Hilton Head Island, SC – December 5, 2021
The Chapel Without Walls
Matthew 2:1-7; Matthew 7:8-12
A Sermon by John M. Miller
Text – For so it was written by the prophet: “And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means the least among the rulers of Judah, for from you shall come a ruler who will govern my people Israel.” – Matthew 2:5b-6 (RSV)
Of the two Gospels which describe the birth of Jesus, Luke’s account is the better known. For some reason its depictions of the shepherds in the fields and the angels and Mary and Joseph and the animals in the stable is far more deeply etched into our consciousness than Matthew’s account of the wise men from the east. Some nativity scenes on church lawns don’t even include the Magi, but there are always animals in every crèche depiction, even though neither Luke nor Matthew say anything about cattle lowing or sheep baaing. Nobody can even be sure what “lowing” means, but apparently Martin Luther knew, for it was he who wrote the text to Away in a manger.
However, I did not choose our Advent scripture readings from Matthew on the basis of the story of the wise men. I chose it because of Matthew’s recollection of a prophetic verse from Micah 5:6: “But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose origin is from old, from ancient days.”
You may have noticed that the writer of Matthew did not quote exactly what the prophet Micah wrote. That is not surprising. Two thousand years ago, every book then in print was hand-copied. Thus there might be small variations in what was printed from one biblical edition to another. The scribes who did this copying might make unintentional changes from the older copies they copied. The amazing thing, at least to me, is not that “Matthew” (whoever he was) didn’t say precisely what Micah said, but that Matthew remembered that particular verse at all. He certainly didn’t have a concordance as I do to look it up. He just wrote it down as best he could recall it, because he may not have had access to a complete “Old Testament,” which Jews back then called “the Tanach,” as they still do today
Matthew didn’t describe Bethlehem as “the city of David” either. Only Luke did that. But we remember that phrase, because we have heard Luke’s birth narrative more frequently than Matthew’s when we were growing up. “And Joseph also went up from Galilee, from the city of Nazareth, to Judea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem” (Luke 2:4).
Two thousand years ago, “the city of David” was little more than an oversized village. Now it is a major city, the largest city in the Palestinian territory of the West Bank. When I organized my first church tour to Israel in 1976, it was easy to get into the West Bank from Jerusalem. As time went on though, it became more and more of a bureaucratic and military nightmare, and the border crossing took much longer. By the last of those tours, in 1999, it was like crossing from West Berlin into East Berlin through Checkpoint Charlie; it was an aggravating, anxious, time-consuming ordeal.
The Christmas carol Hark the herald angels sing has a line which declares, “Hail the heaven-born Prince of peace! Hail the Sun of righteousness!” Very likely there was no one at the time Jesus was born who perceived his birth in that way --- not Mary or Joseph, or the shepherds, or the wise men. From the two narratives, with the exception of the innkeeper, they were the only people who knew Jesus had been born. Because Roman policy tried to insure peace at all costs, Bethlehem in the first century was much more peaceful when Jesus entered this world than it is since the land of Palestine came into existence in 1948. There has been constant tension and occasional bloodshed ever since, and much of the political unrest is centered in Bethlehem.
In the first century, Bethlehem was probably nothing more than a sleepy hamlet, a village a few miles south of Jerusalem. It was noted for one thing, and one thing only. Its main claim to fame is that it was the place where King David had been born. But that had occurred a thousand years earlier, so the locals themselves would not have made much of a fuss over it. But Matthew did. In his mind, Bethlehem was huge. That came about because, in his birth story, the Magi from the east first came to King Herod to find out where the Messiah was to be born. They were big shots where they came from, so they went to the biggest shot in Judah to provide an answer to the question which most befuddled them at the moment. Where was this unique baby born? However, like many political figures, then as now, Herod didn’t pay much attention to religion, except to keep an eye on how it might support or oppose his reign as monarch.
If Matthew is correct in what he writes, the wise men came to Herod and asked him, “Where is he was has been born king of the Jews? We have seen his star in the East, and have come to worship him” (Mt. 2:2). Herod was one of the most paranoid rulers who ever lived. He had numerous people executed, including one of his wives and two of his sons. A nice chap he was not. By comparison, he made Richard Nixon look like a veritable avatar of apathy. So when he heard these Persians or Mesopotamians or Afghans or whoever they were ask, “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews?”, Herod’s ever-active antennae shot up like the listening devices of the CIA in the American Embassy in Beijing. The king said to himself, “I am the king of the Jews, for crying out loud, and who and why are these foreign yahoos inquiring where someone else is born who is somehow being declared ‘the king of the Jews?’”
Herod quickly called an emergency meeting into session of the major moguls of the Jerusalem religious establishment, apparently insisting that they inform him where the Bible said the promised Messiah was to be born. And, according to Matthew – quote – “They told him, ‘In Bethlehem, for so it is written by the prophet, “And you, O Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who will govern my people Israel.’”
There is a problem of interpretation here, though. The prophets rarely wrote anything that was totally unambiguous, and what Micah wrote in his fifth chapter is no exception. Take a look at our responsive reading from Micah 5 and see if it clearly is talking about the Messiah. Matthew thought that’s what Micah was talking about, and in his regal ignorance Herod seemed to be talking about the Messiah, but is that unquestionably what is at stake here? It might be, or it might not be. And anyway, might it be that Micah was talking about King David who was born in Bethlehem two or three hundred years before Micah was even alive? Who knows --- for certain?
Matthew thinks he knows, which is why he quotes that verse. Matthew is the “proof-texter” par excellence! He knows what he believes before he writes the first word in his Gospel, which is what any other person would also do who wanted to write a Gospel. But unlike the other three Gospel writers, Matthew was careful to write his story of the life of Jesus in such a way that it corroborated many verses from the Hebrew scriptures that Matthew knew backwards and forwards. His purpose was to get his readers to believe and affirm what he had already believed and affirmed. That’s also what every Gospel writer would do.
But listen, Christian people: Do prophetic biblical passages validate other biblical passages in the same way that mathematical principles solve mathematical problems? Is biblical theology like chemistry: you take this element and add it to that element, and you get something else entirely different? Hydrogen plus oxygen produces water. Is the Bible a puzzle which is completed when all the right pieces are fitted into the right places?
For some Christians, that is exactly the way faith works. This verse validates that verse. This passage in this chapter authenticates that passage in that chapter.
For other Christians, however, their faith is neither solidified nor verified by that method. They read what they read, and trust what they trust, but it doesn’t come together so neatly or perfectly for them. And the question is: Which kind of Christian are you? When you come to another Advent and Christmas, what are you looking for? What will move you to new heights of trust or to deeper foundations of faith?
There is no single correct path for everyone. There is no “Aha!” moment that suits everyone’s needs. Certain prophetic utterances move certain kinds of people to rapturous insights, but for other kinds of people, those very same verses are merely small signposts, little markers on the circuitous and --- for them --- ever-uncertain path of Christian faith and growth.
The contemporary reality is this: The city of David for David or for Micah or for Jesus was not at all like the current city of David. Bethlehem used to be home to a hundred thousand people. It has lost more than a quarter of its population since 1967. A majority of its residents back then were Christian Arabs. Most of those who have left the city are Christians, and now Bethlehem has a majority of Muslim Arabs. That is like virtually every other city, town, and village in what used to be called the West Bank, but now is called by the people in the West Bank “the occupied territories.” The population of Israel and Palestine is still growing, but the Christian percentage of the population is fairly rapidly declining. The biblical Bethlehem of our minds is a far cry from the reality of the contemporary city of David, which has become something of a collection of shuttered shops and abandoned apartments. It gives “shabby” a whole new meaning.
Furthermore, there are far fewer pilgrims who come to Bethlehem every Christmas now. Israeli policies unintentionally and indirectly have greatly deterred tourism, which for years was Israel’s main source of income. There is little peace in the beleaguered city where the heaven-born Prince of peace was born. Real life may be quite different from what our minds conjure up at Christmas.
Since I am urging you to think about things you may never have thought about before, let me tell you about such a thought I had thirty years ago or so on my fifth or sixth visit to Nazareth. Our guide, Walter Zanger, took us to a recently excavated archeological site which was claimed to be, or at least it was said that it might be, the home of Joseph and Mary from twenty centuries ago. It was very close to the massive Church of the Annunciation, the largest church in the Middle East, built over the place where it is believed that Gabriel told Mary and Joseph what was going to happen nine months from his appearance to them.
Walter suggested, in that offhanded way he had of saying things he knew might lessen severe consternation in the hearts of his conscripted captives, that Jesus might have been born in that place, if it actually was the home of Mary and Joseph. That theretofore un-thought thought hit me like a ton of bricks. Jesus born in Nazareth? Jesus was born in Bethlehem, for heaven’s sake! Everybody knows that!
The surprising thing to me is that no one else in the group seemed as bowled over by that apparently innocuous statement as I was. Since then I have read much more than I had read up to that time, and thought much more than I had thought up to then, and I have come to a realization: As I have said before, in my heart I continue to imagine that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, but in my head I am prepared to believe that in fact he may have been born in Nazareth. Either place is now OK, and neither place is also OK, although for whatever it is worth, I am sufficiently certain it was the one town or the other. In any case, fairly frequently Jesus is called “Jesus of Nazareth” in the Gospels, but never once does any Gospel refer to him as “Jesus of Bethlehem.”
Historical facts do not and cannot ultimately verify beyond doubt the framework upon which Christianity is based. Only belief or faith or trust can do that. But actual places or things, like Bethlehem, Nazareth, a cross, a book, a passing comment by an admired and respected friend or colleague, can construct yet more girders or floors or ceilings in the structure of faith.
Were there wise men? I don’t know. Were there shepherds and angels? I don’t know. Was Jesus born in a stable? For twenty centuries that has been a reasonable deduction, because Luke tells us the baby was placed in a manger, because there was no room in the inn. He never directly tells us the manger was in a barn, but that’s the best concept we can come up with. We can’t know it was a stable, nor even that they had stables back then as we know stables now, if we know them at all, which most of us don’t.
If you allow your mind to roam freely, Advent and Christmas can be a glorious time. Let it be, dear hearts; let it be. Advent is an excellent time to liberate our minds to ponder matters that either never have crossed our minds or that we refused to allow to enter our consciousness. But, as the marvelous slogan proclaims, “A mind is a terrible thing to waste.”