A Place By the Hearth

Matthew 1:18-25

December 16, 2018 • Mount Pleasant UMC

I love getting Christmas cards. Most days, for me, Facebook messaging, e-mail or texting takes the place of putting pen to paper, and about the only time I still use the postal service is to pay a bill—and I do that less and less these days. Most of our bills we pay online. Of course, we do get plenty of junk mail. I told Cathy we should just put a recycling bin out by the mailbox and save us the trouble of carrying all the junk in. But during December, I kind of look forward to going to the mailbox, even though the whole “Informed Delivery” service has already told me who we’re getting cards from today. But I don’t yet know what’s inside! The cards are always the first thing I open, and in many cases, I haven’t heard from some of those people since last year at this time. It might be easy to become cynical about that, but I choose to be thankful that they at least thought of us enough to send a card. It also reminds me how fast the years go by because it seems like we just exchanged cards the other day.

It has been said that the problem with the way we live life today is we’re so busy making a living that we don’t have time to make a life. It’s a bit cliche because it’s true: we make a living by what we get; we make a life by what we give. But sometimes—often, in fact—we’re so busy getting that we don’t have time to give, and that’s not just for employed people. I’ve known retirees, freed from their job, who have less time for others now than they did before, mainly because they’re trying to do everything they think they missed out on when they were working. We make a living by what we get; we make a life by what we give.

That was one of the lessons Ebenezer Scrooge had to learn in the middle part of Charles Dickens’ classic Christmas story, A Christmas Carol. This Advent, we are pairing the Biblical story with this tale that many of us know but have often not thought deeply about. Dickens’ story can be enjoyed on the surface as just a well-told tale, but his writing was deeply informed by a desire to transform the season of Christmas. Certainly, as I said a couple of weeks ago, Dickens was desperate for a “hit,” a bestseller after his most recent book had not sold well, but he also did what more Christians need to learn to do today: he told a good story that shared a message but without beating people over the head with the message. That’s a topic to talk about another time. Dickens caught people’s attention by telling a Christmas ghost story, but the ghosts are not the main character. That would be Ebenezer Scrooge, a miserly old “sinner,” to use Dickens’ words, who, so far in the story, has been visited by two ghosts, two spirits. The first was Jacob Marley, Scrooge’s former business partner who had died seven years before. Marley warned Scrooge about his afterlife fate, and gave him a chance to change: a “chance” that would involve visits from three other spirits. In Marley’s visit, we focused on breaking the chains that bind us, that too often define us.

So then, last week, the first spirit came to visit with Scrooge: the Ghost of Christmas Past. This Spirit took Scrooge on a journey through the joys and the sorrows of his past--his boarding school, the loss of his love, his apprenticeship. In those scenes, we talked about how we often need to rediscover the joy of this season and of the Christian life. And that brings us to the next spirit who haunts Scrooge: the Ghost of Christmas Present. If you’re reading along in the book, you’ll read this week as this ghost takes Scrooge to an unexpected place: the home of Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s employee. Scrooge watches as the Cratchit family prepares for their meager Christmas feast, and he learns for the first time that Bob’s son, Tim, is crippled—only in body, though, for when Bob and Tim come home from church, Bob tells his wife that Tim had hoped people would see him at church. “It might be pleasant to them to remember upon Christmas Day who made lame beggars walk and blind men see,” Tim had said. You can’t help but wonder who is really crippled here. Earlier, in the first part of the story, Scrooge had been confronted by some other wealthy gentlemen, asking for a Christmas contribution for the poor. “Are there no prisons?” he had asked. “And the Union workhouses?” When he was assured that they were still in operation, Scrooge said the poor should go there for help. “Many can’t go there,” one of the gentlemen replied, “and many would rather die.” And Scrooge said, “If they would rather die, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.” Now, suddenly, that surplus population has a face and a name: Tiny Tim.

VIDEO CLIP: “A Place By the Hearth (3)”

That he even asks about Tim shows that Scrooge’s humbug heart is beginning to melt. He’s starting to see how Christmas—and life—is about people, about relationships. It’s about God seeking a relationship with humanity, for that was the essence of the first Christmas over two thousand years ago. Learning that truth isn't easy for Ebenezer Scrooge, any more than it was for Joseph, the gentle foster-father of Jesus.

Last year during Advent, we focused on Joseph, even though there's a lot we don’t know about him and his life. He comes and goes rather quietly. He shows up, of course, in the nativity stories and once more when Jesus is 12 and they take him to Jerusalem for the Passover. We don’t know for sure how old Joseph was, what kind of family he came from, or how he and Mary had come to be together in the first place. None of that is essential for the story the Gospel writers are telling. I love the way Michael Card talks about Joseph: “We regretfully have no scenes of him with Jesus in the carpenter shop. But since Jesus was also known as a carpenter, He must have learned His trade somewhere, and why not from Joseph? We know for certain that Jesus made it to manhood with a wonderfully strong and simple vision of what father meant. He must have learned it at least in part from Joseph. Before he shrieked, ‘Abba!’ with a man’s tormented voice in the garden of Gethsemane, He must have tenderly called out that same name in an innocent child’s voice to…Joseph” (Immanuel, pg. 43).

Of course, Joseph almost wasn’t Jesus’ stepfather. Matthew tells us when Joseph learns that Mary is pregnant, he makes up his mind to divorce her quietly (1:19). Joseph and Mary were betrothed, which in the ancient world was a lot stronger than today’s “engagement.” It took a divorce to end a betrothal. At the same time, first-century betrothed couples spent very little time together, and Joseph was (in all likelihood) off working in Bethlehem while Mary lived in Nazareth, so he may well have been one of the last to learn of Mary’s pregnancy. Matthew doesn’t tell us if he finds out before or after she spends three months with her cousin Elizabeth (or during that time). For that matter, Matthew, doesn't mention Zechariah and Elizabeth at all. But when Joseph does find out, he knows the child is not his, and it would be wrong and improper for him to claim a child that does not belong to him (Pilch, Cultural World of Jesus Cycle A, pg. 11). By the Law, he could have Mary killed (put to death by stoning), but Matthew says he “did not want to expose her to public disgrace,” so he decides the only thing he can do is to “divorce her quietly” (1:19).

Once he had made up his mind (or thought he had), God intervenes. An angel appears to Joseph in a dream and says, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins” (1:20-21). This child is to be the fulfillment of prophecy; he is the son of God; his is to be “God with us.” The angel intervenes so Joseph will have a chance to do the right thing rather than simply the legal thing (Simonetti, ACCS: Matthew 1-13, pg. 16). It’s important to notice that no where in the Christmas story is anyone compelled to make choices outside of their will. Mary agrees to the pregnancy; now Joseph must do so as well, and to reassure him, the angel says, “Do not be afraid; it will be all right.”

When Joseph wakes up, he makes two choices that shows how he values relationships. First, he chooses Mary. He chooses to honor Mary and provide a home for her. Did he buy the angel’s explanation? Matthew doesn’t say. It doesn’t matter; Joseph is going to be obedient to God, so he does that the angels says. Matthew tells us he “took Mary home as his wife” (1:24). He stood with Mary in less-than-flattering circumstances. He agreed to accept the child she was carrying, to care for her son as his own. He had to have endured embarrassment, questions, ridicule and uncertainty. Did he lose some carpentry jobs because of his choice? We don’t know for sure, but it’s likely. That would have been consistent with the culture of the time. But Joseph chooses love for Mary over the convenient choice of a quiet dismissal. He gives her his good name and his reputation. He chooses Mary.

He also chooses God. He chooses to love God by being obedient to the angel’s word, even down to naming the child Jesus, as the angel had instructed. By human logic, Joseph’s choice makes no sense, and even more so when you consider that his future held a long journey to Bethlehem, a birth in a manger, and a midnight flight to and exile in Egypt to escape the wrath of an evil, insecure king. And that’s just in the first couple of years! Joseph, of course, knew none of that at this point. But it didn’t matter, because he chose to obey God, to place a high priority on maintaining his relationship with God. He didn’t have much in this world; we know that because when they dedicated Jesus at the Temple, he and Mary offered the sacrifice of a poor person (Luke 2:22). But still Joseph put it all on the line, his entire life, to obey God. He chose God.

Isn’t it interesting that the child Joseph raised would grow up and teach that the greatest commandment is this: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself’” (Matt. 22:37-39)? Jesus must have seen those laws lived out at home. He must have learned, at least in part, that one way we love God is by loving our neighbors. He would have seen that in Joseph, that we choose God when we choose others, when we value the relationships God has allowed us to have.

George Mason learned that one Christmas. Like Scrooge, he lived alone, and his life was centered on his work. Late one Christmas Eve, Mason went into the vault in his office but forgot to prop the door open. While he was in there, the door swung shut. He knew no one would be able to hear him. Even the cleaning lady was gone. The next day was Christmas; no one was in the office then, either. Mason was uncomfortable, hungry and thirsty. He tried to sleep so the time would pass quickly, and he silently wondered if anyone even missed him. The day after Christmas, someone arrived early to unlock the vault, and George Mason staggered out unnoticed, went to the water cooler, then took a taxi to his apartment. He got cleaned up and returned to the office; no one suspected a thing. Back in his office, he wrote out a little card and taped it high up in the vault to remind himself of the experience. The card said this: “To love people, to be indispensable, somewhere: that is the purpose of life. That is the secret of happiness” (Pastor’s Manual, pg. B80).

The challenge of Christmas is not that we give too much. The problem with Christmas for most of us is that we don’t give enough. I’m not talking about stuff money can buy, the bargains we pursue on Black Friday or Green Monday. We don’t give enough of the right gifts to those who need them most when we forget that Christmas is about relationships rather than stuff. Scrooge says to the spirit, “I didn’t know Cratchit had a crippled son.” And the Spirit says, “Why didn’t you ask?” Scrooge and Cratchit sat just a few feet away from each other every day, and yet Scrooge knew nothing about his employee or his family. The contrast in Dickens’ story is evident. Scrooge has abundant wealth, yet he sits alone in a drafty room with a bowl of gruel on Christmas Eve. The Cratchits have nothing by worldly standards, and yet they are happy just to be together on Christmas Day with an ordinary goose. They show God’s love by loving one another, just as Joseph did. They show us how to value relationships at Christmas and every day.

The manger reminds us that God came down to us, to be one of us, to show us the way back to him. Because of the manger, we can be friends with God, we can learn to love one another, enemies can be turned to friends, and swords can be beaten into plowshares. When we value the relationships God has given us, we most shine forth the Christmas spirit. So think about your own situation, your own family. That is the one set of relationships all of us have. None of our families are perfect, no matter how much we might try to pretend we are. There are folks in all of our families who are—shall we say—challenging. Without trying too hard, we can each probably think of situations that are difficult, seemingly impossible. Mary’s pregnancy brought a difficult situation to her family and to Joseph, and though Matthew doesn’t tell us the details, there had to come a moment of reconciliation between them. After the angel visited him, there had to be a time when they came to some sort of understanding. Had Joseph told her what he planned to do? Had they discussed the child, the pregnancy, the angel? What had he said to her father, or her mother, who would have arranged the marriage in the first place? There had to come a time where Joseph said to Mary, “I will still choose to have you as my wife, even in these circumstances.” And that word “still” was very important, because that is the heartbeat of God. Read through the Old Testament and see how many times God takes his people back, even when they seem set on disobeying him repeatedly. God says to his people, “I will will take you as my people.” Jesus came to bring that same reconciliation between God and humanity, and it seems logical that, in many ways, we see it first in the Christmas story as the relationship between Joseph and Mary is repaired.

Are there broken places in your family in need of reconciliation? I encourage you, between now and when you see your extended family for Christmas, to get a picture of your family, put it on your mirror or fridge, and pray over it. Ask God if there is some way you can reach out to the ones whom you have hurt or who have hurt you. It doesn’t matter if they respond positively or not; don’t let their “Bah! Humbug!” take away the joy of the season. Or if you are among the blessed and there is no difficulty (currently) in your family, you may want to sit down and write a letter or a card of appreciation to someone who has blessed you, maybe someone you haven’t thought of in a while. Every person we come in contact with leaves a bit of themselves with us. God “moves people in and out of each other’s lives, and each leaves his mark on the other. You find you are made up of bits and pieces of everyone who ever touched your life—you are more because of it, and you would be less if they had not touched you” (qtd. in Pastor’s Manual B79). Even friends and family who are long gone continue to impact us, and I think we understand that better the more Christmases we celebrate. In 1851 (8 years after the publication of A Christmas Carol), Charles Dickens wrote an essay entitled, “What Christmas Is As We Grow Older.” He said, “As we grow older, let us be more thankful that the circle of our Christmas associations and of the lessons that they bring expands! Let us welcome every one of them, and summon them to take their places by the Christmas hearth” (pg. 5). There at the Christmas hearth of our hearts, we can begin to seek reconciliation with some and offer encouragement to others.

But there’s another group of people that’s often denied a place at any Christmas hearth, and that is, to use Biblical language, the “stranger.” Scrooge urged decreasing the surplus population, but do you realize Mary and Joseph would have been among that “surplus”? So would Tiny Tim. So would a little boy named Jesse that Cathy and I met in the Austin community of Chicago nearly thirty years ago now. Jesse had nothing going for him except a winning smile. He lived in the wrong part of town, had a difficult (at best) family situation, and was far behind in school. But Jesse came to Circle Urban Ministries and there he was loved and welcomed and told that he mattered—messages not often heard in that part of Chicago, a place where drug deals regularly went on and went bad just a block away. Cathy worked with Jesse throughout the summer on his schoolwork, but most of all she just loved him. By the end of the summer, Jesse had accepted the love that Christ offered to him, and was well on his way toward improving his situation. But it started because the wonderful people at Circle loved him, even though he had nothing to give back to them. They didn’t just love him so that he would become a member of the church. They didn’t just love him so that he would buy a product. They loved him, like Joseph loved Mary, because God loved him first. I still wonder what became of Jesse.

As we’ll see in the Dickens story, one evidence of Scrooge’s transformation is his willingness to do something for people who could not pay him back. He will share Christmas joy with the Cratchits, and he will help them in their time of need. Who could be your Cratchit family—someone you can love without expecting anything in return? It doesn’t have to be much. Perhaps a plate of cookies, or a pie, or simply some time spent together. There are always opportunities in our larger community. Many of you made a difference a week ago when you rang bells for the Salvation Army. Most of the money put in that red kettle will stay here and help people in Vigo County. I don’t know exact figures, but every time I talk with Sue Linden at the Salvation Army or stop by there, I can see the results of that simple time of bell ringing. People are getting the help they need, and you all are a part of that. Last Sunday, our Tweens took time and went Christmas caroling in several nursing homes; one of our members told them that many groups had been through there, but our kids were the best. It just takes a few moments, a little bit of your time, to share Christmas love with someone who can’t get out, who is often lonely, whether in a nursing home or shut-in at home. We are constantly looking for people who will visit with those folks and sharing Christmas (and rest-of-the-year) joy. For those who say they don’t have much to give—the most important thing we can give to another person is the gift of time, especially one who feels forgotten, and we all have that. Jess also shared this morning about a beyond-Christmas opportunity to share the love of God with a group of people who are often overlooked and forgotten. Friends, God has clearly called us to this special needs ministry and is using it in powerful ways. I hope you’re catching the vision for that. I have heard many stories recently of people who have special needs family members being turned away from churches because the church does not know how to handle certain circumstances. I thank God that Mount Pleasant is not one of those churches, and in February we have another extraordinary opportunity to value those relationships when we again host the Night to Shine. I can tell you that being a buddy is uncomfortable, and stretching, and challenging—and incredibly rewarding. I challenge you this morning, as an act of Christmas giving, to sign up now and plan to be here on February 8. It will change your life and the life of the ones whom you serve.

You see, the point is this: God set an example for us when he sent Jesus. He gave of himself for those who could not repay. When we value relationships, during Christmas and all through the year, we are following in the footsteps, not just of Jesus’ stepfather, but of our loving heavenly Father. The temptation to isolate and create a world of one is great. I read recently that Facebook has even come up with an algorithm that allows you exclude certain words from what you see. So if you don’t want to see anything about “Santa,” you can instruct Facebook to leave out all posts with that word in it. And slowly, surely, we create a world in which we only see, hear and read things and people we agree with. And do you know what happens as we do that? We withdraw from others, they withdraw from us and we’re left alone. We end up like Scrooge. Loneliness comes as we, in the words of poet Greg Asimakoupolous, “indulge the unholy trinity of me, myself, and I.” It takes work to value relationships. It’s hard. It takes risk. But the result is worth it. Presence (not presents) is the most important gift we can give at any time, but especially at Christmas.

So how about it? Where do you need to begin strengthening the relationships God has given you? Where do you need to reach out to bless those around you? Whom do you need to invite to take their place at your Christmas hearth? Let’s pray.