As we move ever closer to Christmas Eve and the celebration of the birth of Jesus, I find myself swinging between two extremes: burying my head in the sand about the world and focusing on sweetness and light that is within my circle. Or despairing that the world is so far gone that there is no way that I or we can do anything, so why bother. And then… as always, I had second or third thoughts… Perfection is the enemy of the good. Have you heard that phrase before? It’s the idea that because you can’t fix everything, you might as well not bother to fix anything.
Words from one of my favourite poet/theologians Leonard Cohen, came to mind:
Ring the bell that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There’s a crack, a crack
In everything
That’s how the light gets in.
Last night was the longest night of the year… and today we tip towards more sun, more light… The light always prevails… Hope is worth the risk.
In our scripture readings this morning we have two stories of risking hope: one private and one public. First some historical and political context. In Jewish culture of the first century, betrothal was a binding agreement, akin to marriage but without cohabitation. Breaking a betrothal required a formal divorce. When Mary is found to be pregnant, it presents a significant challenge to the couple’s honour and social standing. Mary’s pregnancy before living with Joseph could have exposed her to accusations of adultery, which was punishable by severe social ostracism or even death under Mosaic Law. Joseph’s decision to divorce her quietly reflects both his adherence to the law and his compassion. His ultimate decision not to, signifies trust, faith, and publicly risking hope. Let’s hear how the story unfolds in Matthew 1: 18-25
18 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be pregnant from the Holy Spirit. 19 Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to divorce her quietly. 20 But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” 22 All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: 23 “Look, the virgin shall become pregnant and give birth to a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” 24 When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife 25 but had no marital relations with her until she had given birth to a son, and he named him Jesus.
Public hope… the hope that stands out and offers an alternative way of being, despite cultural norms and expectations. Joseph obviously thought that hope was worth the risk… this public hope… We don’t know much about Joseph… he’s a shadow figure… but a key one in the story… He risked hope for himself and Mary and a better world… and invites the question, what are we willing to risk hoping for publicly?
A couple of stories from around the world of public hope:
• The incredible pro-democracy demonstrations in South Korea in the past 2 weeks.
• Maori people protesting to protect their foundational Treaty rights in New Zealand.
• The liberation of Syria.
What hope are we willing to risk putting into words in our time and context?
And in Luke’s gospel we have Mary’s radical song, but a song sung in private, sung as far as we know, with only her cousin Elizabeth present. Let’s listen to these words, imagining them sung by a young, pregnant, unwed girl.
46 And Mary[f] sang,
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
48 for he has looked with favor on the lowly state of his servant.
Surely from now on all generations will call me blessed,
49 for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name;
50 indeed, his mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
51 He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
52 He has brought down the powerful from their thrones
and lifted up the lowly;
53 he has filled the hungry with good things
and sent the rich away empty.
54 He has come to the aid of his child Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
55 according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”
Mary sings in private… with just Elizabeth as her audience… remember that Judea was under Roman rule, characterized by economic exploitation and social inequality. Mary singing such a revolutionary song in public, would be dangerous. Lifting up the lowly and scattering the proud would have resonated as a hopeful and subversive vision of justice for the oppressed. Mary’s words reflect the hope of the Jewish people for a Messiah who would overturn oppressive systems. She speaks of a God who exalts the humble and brings down the mighty and fills the hungry with good things and sends the rich away empty. Her song stands as a revolutionary hymn of hope, celebrating God’s faithfulness, justice, and the promise of salvation for all, especially the marginalized.
What are the hopes that feel too risky to say in public? 😉 Now if we said them, we’d be saying them in public. Perhaps give them some thought though… Hope is worth the risk. Can we live that way? Individually and collectively? Hope is not just wishful thinking. Hope, in the faith sense, is working towards an unseen future… with a sense that God is with us… and that new life is possible… that abundant life is possible!
As Advent concludes, we reflect on the risky yet transformative nature of hope through the stories of Joseph and Mary. Joseph’s public act of hope—choosing to stand by Mary despite societal expectations—models courage and trust in God’s plan. Mary’s private song, the Magnificat, proclaims a radical hope for justice, lifting the lowly and filling the hungry. Together, their stories challenge us to embrace hope as more than wishful thinking. Hope calls us to act boldly, trusting in God’s presence and working for a future filled with abundant life, justice, and love, even when the outcome is uncertain.
Thanks be to God for the challenge and the opportunity, amen.
Matthew 1: 18-25
Luke 1: 46-55
December 22, 2024 – SJ
Advent 4
Rev. Catherine MacDonald
Photo by Kind and Curious on Unsplash
St. James United Church Dartmouth 