Holy Cowardice; a sermon for the First Sunday of Christmas

Matthew 2:13-23

13 When the magi had departed, an angel from the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up. Take the child and his mother and escape to Egypt. Stay there until I tell you, for Herod will soon search for the child in order to kill him.” 14 Joseph got up and, during the night, took the child and his mother to Egypt. 15 He stayed there until Herod died. This fulfilled what the Lord had spoken through the prophet: I have called my son out of Egypt.

16 When Herod knew the magi had fooled him, he grew very angry. He sent soldiers to kill all the children in Bethlehem and in all the surrounding territory who were two years old and younger, according to the time that he had learned from the magi. 17 This fulfilled the word spoken through Jeremiah the prophet:

18 A voice was heard in Ramah,
    weeping and much grieving.
        Rachel weeping for her children,
            and she did not want to be comforted,
                because they were no more.

19 After King Herod died, an angel from the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt. 20 “Get up,” the angel said, “and take the child and his mother and go to the land of Israel. Those who were trying to kill the child are dead.” 21 Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 22 But when he heard that Archelaus ruled over Judea in place of his father Herod, Joseph was afraid to go there. Having been warned in a dream, he went to the area of Galilee. 23 He settled in a city called Nazareth so that what was spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled: He will be called a Nazarene.

Let the words of my mouth
    and the meditations of my heart
    be pleasing to you,
    Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

So we’re approaching this story backward. When last we met, Jesus was born and the Magi hadn’t appeared. Now they’re leaving and we’re learning of Herod’s plot.

Next week, we’ll bring the Magi into the scene.

Backward. We do that sometimes.

By the way, do you remember into what scene the Magi are wandering? It’s probably not the one you put on your mantle or your coffee table this season. Matthew tells us that the Magi come to a house, not a stable.

And there’s some vagueness about how old Jesus is when the Magi appear. Listen to Herod’s actions:

He sent soldiers to kill all the children in Bethlehem and in all the surrounding territory who were two years old and younger, according to the time that he had learned from the magi.

I, frankly, don’t know exactly what would cause some vagueness in the age of the child the Magi are seeking. Maybe they told Herod that they were seeking a nursing child, or an infant. I’m willing to bet that the way we define those terms today is different from the way the terms were defined in ancient Judea.

Or maybe Joseph and Mary don’t actually remember when this happens, either. We don’t know how much later they’re relating this story to the early Christian community, but it’s certainly after Jesus’s resurrection. Do they remember, decades later, exactly when it was that Herod sent out his mercenaries? Imagine the terror, the wailing of young mothers, fearful enough in those days of losing a child to natural death, now facing soldiers in their homes, stealing and murdering their infants in cold blood.

Parents mourn when children are lost in the womb. Mothers mourn when they are compelled to make the decision to terminate a pregnancy. It is never a decision made lightly, and we are callous fools when we trick ourselves to believe otherwise.

But when we have had time to learn the child, adapt to infant patterns, watch the child grow…

This, friends, is the stuff of nightmares. This is the stuff, specifically, of my very worst nightmares.

Maybe it is unfair that God warns Joseph about Herod’s plan. Maybe it is a callous God who warns one person but not another. What kind of God does that?

Or maybe God does warn the people of Bethlehem. Maybe they hear and do hide their children. But Matthew suggests that, at least for some, that doesn’t happen.

A voice was heard in Ramah,
    weeping and much grieving.
        Rachel weeping for her children,
            and she did not want to be comforted,
                because they were no more.

Perhaps ours is a God who warns all people, but some of us are unable to hear. I hope so. I confess as much, but I always leave room in my faith for mistake, for learning. At all times, I reserve the right to be wrong.

I hope God warns all of Bethlehem, but I know that God warns Joseph, and he flees.

Now, flight is one of two reactions to danger, to fear. The other reaction is fight.

One exemplifies courage. The other exemplifies cowardice.

Is cowardice a holy trait?

Is fear a God-given gift?

Is there a time when God calls us to be afraid?

When a rabbit is faced with a wolf, he doesn’t stand his ground. He uses those magnificent huge rear paws to blast out of that place. He uses his agility to find cover that the wolf can’t reach.

God gives the rabbit fear in the same breath in which God gives the wolf hunger.

Fear is natural. Fear is created for creatures to keep them safe.

And perhaps, sometimes, out of fear is born wisdom.

I can say this with relative certainty: wisdom is almost never born of hunger. Wisdom is certainly never born of violence.

In violence, we make rash decisions we often regret later, even if we spend years or lifetimes trying to rationalize our violence.

In hunger, we make starved, ill-nourished decisions that seem to benefit us in the short term, but hurt or destroy us as time goes on.

If our reaction to danger is to make a decision that we will regret, where is God in that decision?

If our reaction to danger is to flee, to react by running to safety to re-evaluate our situation, then we have a chance to learn and better protect ourselves.

We have a chance at wisdom.

Thank God that Jesus has given us a middle way, something between flight and fight, a way to stand against violence and oppression without becoming the oppressor but without spending generations cowering in fear. Thank God that Jesus has given us a way that King and Ghandi recognized and have modelled in grace and truth in our world today.

But that middle way sometimes takes forethought and planning that we don’t have time for in every situation.

Joseph has to flee immediately.

Get up, the angel tells him. Take the child and flee. Stay hidden til I tell you otherwise.

I think that, in essence, Joseph’s decision is holy because it allows room for God to speak, for wisdom to be imparted. But I think, more immediately, that Joseph’s decision to flee is holy because it’s what God says to do.

And what God says to do in the moment is more pressing and perhaps more important than what we may read in pages and pages of history covering decades and centuries of blood shed in the name of God the conqueror.

What God says to us, right here, right now, is exactly the Word that we need to hear, because God’s Word is alive and speaking today, not just the written witness of the ages but the living, breathing, inspiring voice whispered in our hearts and shouted by the poor and the oppressed of every age and place.

Sometimes that Word is a Word of courage. But sometimes that Word is a Word of cowardice, one commanding us to take flight from an immediate threat.

And when we escape, God will make space for a miracle. When we flee, God will still send Emmanuel to be with us today.

And eventually, the threat will leave. We may climb down from the attic, come out from our closet, come back home to remake our lives. But first, we must flee.

Sometimes, what God is calling us to is exactly holy cowardice.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.