“He thought on these things”
In terms of the infancy narratives in Christmastide, should we be so wedded to such a linear way of thinking, we have yet to get to Bethlehem! Apart from Joseph and Mary and her first-born son, the only other visitors to Bethlehem in the readings for this past week have been those whom Herod sent forth who “slew all the children that were in Bethlehem,” a gruesome, yet significant and important Christmas story, and one that is largely overlooked and ignored in our contemporary celebrations of Christmas. It is, perhaps, somewhat remembered by way of the carol, Puer Nobis Nascitur, “Unto us a Child is Born”, in the verse “Herod then with fear was filled:/ ‘A prince’, he said, ‘in Jewry!’/ All the little boys he killed /At Bethlem in his fury.” Not exactly the most familiar and comfortable of carols yet profoundly concise about this aspect of the Christmas mystery.
No, in the narrative sequence of the Christmastide Gospel readings, it will actually only be tomorrow on The Octave Day of Christmas that the Shepherds, the representatives of our common humanity, will actually “now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass.” Even the Christmas angels, it seems, were only in the countryside round about Jerusalem, the one announcing to the Shepherds about the sign of “good tidings of great joy” in the birth of a Saviour in the city of David, “who is Christ the Lord”, only to be joined by “a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, good will toward men.”All rich and wonderful words and saying, events and thoughts, which illumine for us something of the mystery of Bethlehem, the mystery of Christ’s nativity. All about its meaning and significance, and less about a linear account. All about the radical and disturbing meaning of the Incarnation and its deep joy for us in the redemption of our humanity which it reveals and makes known.
But only through the compelling way in which we are drawn into the mystery – through its significance and meaning first and then in terms of the narrative sequence. Today we have Matthew’s account of the infancy narrative and yet, even with Matthew we do not get to Bethlehem. We – meaning aspects of our humanity who witness to the birth in some way or another – don’t get to Bethlehem until the coming of the Magi/Kings. And they are, to be sure, both the proverbial “Come-From-Aways” as well as the “Johnny-Come-Latelies”. But with Matthew’s account today, we confront what appears to be a scandal. It is not too much to say that his account presents us with more than one scandal, humanly speaking. With Matthew we see a certain intellectual wrestling with extraordinary matters all of which belong to the theological mystery of the Incarnation.
The scandal is Mary’s pregnancy. Luke glosses over it in a modern manner for Mary is said to be Joseph’s “espoused wife, being great with child,” somewhat concealing any clarity about their being actually married. Not perhaps a concern for our age which has reduced marriage, if it can be said to mean anything, to a social construct of indeterminate elements, but inescapably a birth outside of wedlock. Yet with Luke that is glossed over. Not so with Matthew. He makes it very clear that “before they came together she was found with child”. But he immediately indicates that this is something more than the result of some other man. “She was found of child of the Holy Ghost.” A theological justification and reason, to be sure, but how exactly is that known, let alone known to others? We in hindsight can only make sense of it by way of reference to prophecy and to the Annunciation. It is not clear that Joseph has any way of accessing either.
We are provided with a marvellous insight into the character of Joseph, described first as “a just man”, though most translations add “her husband” to the literal “her man” who was “not willing to make her a public example” – i.e. the object of scandal in terms of the suggestion of adultery with all of the hideous possibilities of the penalty of being stoned to death. He “was minded to put her away privily”. That doesn’t mean kill her off. Some translations use the word ‘divorce’ even though they aren’t actually married. There is all the sense of dealing with some pretty difficult and scandalous matters. Fodder at least for the press! More scandal for the church.
We are given the picture of Joseph pondering this dilemma. In that context of thinking about these things, the very mystery which we are given to ponder, too, “the angel of the Lord appeared unto him in a dream”. He is provided with another form of knowing, another way of thinking about this matter. Matthew gives us the words of the Lord’s angel and then provides a parenthetical commentary on its meaning by way of reference to Isaiah’s prophecy. All of this is a long way from any kind of linear narrative. It is altogether about its significance.
So we have scraped through the first apparent scandal, resolved theologically and angelically, it seems, only to confront another difficulty. The Greek of Matthew translated into English speaks of “a Virgin” being with child, referring to the Greek Septuagint translation of Isaiah which we have as the first of the Christmas Day anthems: “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” All good but a lot turns on that word ‘virgin’. Much ink, in my view, way too much ink, has been spent on the Hebrew word, ‘almah’, which can be translated as a young woman of child-bearing age, whether married or unmarried and without the presumption of virginity, for which the Hebrew has another word, though both terms are translated into Greek with the word, ‘parthenos’, meaning virgin.
At issue is the idea of the virgin birth. It seems so utterly unnatural. That is, of course, the whole theological point and the counter to all forms of naturalism or Scientism. The context of Isaiah’s prophecy is about something extraordinary that belongs to the ways of God with man and not simply human ways. Matthew’s parenthesis is undeniably a theological commentary and one which is only too well aware of what is at issue. That is inescapably part of his narrative, a theological narrative, we have to say, but one which is partly driven by the Greek translation from the Septuagint. The words of the angel lead Joseph to do as he was bidden and when “she had brought forth her first-born son … he called his name JESUS,” the name has been passed down in capitals, which is a kind of strong affirmation.
Isaiah’s prophecy itself suggests that the “virgin… shall call his name Immanuel”. In Matthew’s account, he is told by the angel that he shall call the child “JESUS”, again the name has been passed down in the translation tradition in capitals. But in Matthew’s parenthetical reflection, he translates the Septuagint Greek “thou shall call” with “they shall call his name Emmanuel”. Not a big deal, perhaps, but it signals something of the way in which the whole of humanity is drawn into the mystery of Emmanuel, the mystery of God with us in a special and extraordinary way, the way that opens us out to the idea of God and of God with us; in short, the mystery of Christmas itself.
That, of course, is the whole point of our Christmastide meditations. We reflect upon the mystery; we immerse ourselves in the profound reflections of these Scriptural stories. They challenge us first and foremost about the idea of God and then in turn about the real worth and dignity of our humanity. They challenge us about all our commonplace notions of morality and respectability. They show us something about God’s dealings with our humanity which is never reductive but always redemptive. We are lifted up in God’s coming down, lifted up to a deeper understanding of our world and ourselves by being opened out to the radical truth of God.
This is the wonder of our Christmastide readings. They demand of us a kind of thoughtfulness, like Joseph “thinking on these things.”
“He thought on these things”
Fr. David Curry
The Sunday After Christmas Day, 2017