A Fourth Church Sermon by Adam H. Fronczek

December 19, 2010 | 4:00 p.m.

An Unbelievable Promise

Adam H. Fronczek
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 80:1–7, 17–19
Matthew 1:18–25

A couple of years ago, a close friend of mine, having gone home to western Illinois for the holidays, came back and told me about her parents’ new minister and how he had ruined Christmas. Instead of preaching about the wonder of the birth of Jesus or the faith of Mary and Joseph or inspiring stories of Christmas generosity in our own time, the young man went on and on for twenty minutes in a sermon about all of the people in the world who would not get to enjoy Christmas. From men and women in uniform to the hungry and cold people of our cities, from political prisoners in faraway lands to suburbanites suffering from depression and anxiety, the young preacher made sure that his congregation would remember every reason to be miserable on Christmas. At our morning services today, my boss reminded us of Ebenezer Scrooge and his humbug approach to Christmas. It’s one thing for Scrooge to take that attitude; it’s quite another to get it from your minister.

I tell this story to illustrate a point, and that point, of course, is not that we should ignore the bad things at Christmastime. I tell it because, unfortunately, this is not the first time I have heard about such a sermon, and I think an all-too-common mistake made by preachers is that we assume we need to tell you about bad things going on in the world because if we don’t, you might not notice. And that, I think, is pretty insulting. You know that life is hard for many people and even for yourselves.

People are well aware that not everything about Christmas is perfect; the Norman Rockwell or Currier-and-Ives images of the holiday have long ago become metaphors for what it means to be naïve this time of year. One of my favorite narratives that turns the holiday season upside down is a short story called the SantaLand Diaries by satirist David Sedaris, in which he tells the story of being hired to play one of Santa’s elves in SantaLand at Macy’s. The story is full of anecdotes I can’t quite share in a church service, but suffice it to say that it provides a powerful tension between the story of Santa Claus that Macy’s might want you to see and the hard and thankless work going on behind the scenes. It shows us that both good and bad parts of human nature are found in this season just like in any other.

My intention in this sermon is not to remind you of all the bad parts of Christmas. My plan is to try to acknowledge what every one of us knows: that there are things about all of our Christmases that are not perfect. And my plan is to tell you that precisely because of life’s imperfections, the gift of Jesus Christ is real and relevant and is an incredible promise for today and for next week and for every day of the year.

In order to get there, I want to look with you at the Christmas story as it comes to us in Matthew and merely point out to you that it is not a perfect story; it’s a real story. It’s a story about real, imperfect people like you and me, and the more we can understand that, the more powerful the promise of Jesus becomes, because the promise is not for perfect people; it’s for real people, like us.

Today’s Scripture tells the story of Mary and Joseph. They are a young couple, recently engaged. Given the time and social situation, we can safely assume that the marriage was in some respect arranged, but we also know that Joseph is a righteous man—he’s one of the good guys—and the text gives us no reason to believe that he is not fond of Mary, excited about the prospect of starting a family and fathering an heir, and generally feeling good about the engagement. There’s a twist in the plot: Joseph finds out that Mary is pregnant, and he knows the child is not his. Anyone who has ever suspected infidelity can imagine what he must have felt. The text goes so far as to tell us that he considers breaking the engagement. He was still a good enough guy to want to break it off quietly and not very publicly, which would have been even more ruinous for the young Mary. As for Mary, I’m afraid Matthew doesn’t tell us her side of the story—you have to read Luke’s Gospel for that account—but we can at the very least imagine the fear of a young woman who is unexpectedly pregnant and who now may be deserted by her fiancée, a circumstance that would have been even more threatening in the ancient world than it is today.

Why do I choose to tell the first part of the story in this way? I do so because it has to do with the way I started this sermon. Our culture is full of two competing narratives about Christmas: one sets it out as a picture-perfect season from the cozy manger in Bethlehem to the Christmas lights on Michigan Avenue, while another picture tells of Christmas as a humbug, then and now. How do we hold the two stories together?

My hunch is that for many of us, it has to do with trying to sweep as many bad parts of our lives under the rug, fully expecting that the mess will still be there in the new year. Think about it. Do you know anyone who heads home for the holidays saying to themselves and everyone else, “You know, I really haven’t been getting along with my mother this year, but I hope we can at least get through Christmas together?” Have you ever said something like that to yourself? Along with that kind of mentality comes an idea that if our lives at Christmas have any semblance of the conflict, stress, or anxiety that occupies us the rest of the year, Christmas will somehow be ruined.

The danger of this idea is that when we sweep the difficulties of life under the rug, we risk missing the most important part of the Christmas promise. And that’s why I told the story of Mary and Joseph the way I did. Because at the beginning of the original Christmas story there is a major scandal, an incredible moment of uncertainty, an extremely difficult family situation—and that’s the way the Christmas story starts. Clearly we do not need to be perfect people with perfect holiday plans in order for Christmas to make sense.

Let me tell you the second part of the story: Joseph has a dream. In an important respect, it’s like a lot of dreams that you or I might have: there’s not much detail; it’s a little hazy. But Joseph remembers three things: he should not leave Mary, he should name the child Jesus, and Jesus will save people from their sins. Out of this dream, Joseph becomes convinced that he should go against his original inclinations and take Mary as his wife.

It may seem like a great mystery of the story that Joseph stays with Mary, but it’s my hunch that Joseph accepts what God says to him about Jesus because he is in a position to accept it. God offers Joseph and Mary the gift of Jesus in the midst of an imperfect time in their very own lives: God offers them someone who will forgive their sins, their uncertainties, and their doubts. God makes an unbelievable promise to Joseph, but Joseph believes it because he needs to.

We all know that there are things in the world that are not perfect this Christmas season. Some of you may be in worship this afternoon sitting next to someone with whom your relationship is not perfect. Maybe you’ll see such a person in the next week. Maybe at this time of year you will see someone whom you know you owe an apology. Maybe you’ll see someone you think you don’t owe an apology, but if you offer one anyway and extend the hand of friendship and forgiveness, maybe the relationship will change for the better.

The story of Christmas gives us an unbelievable promise. Right where you are, whatever you are facing, whatever is wrong with your life, in whatever way you are not ready for Christmas, Jesus will come all the same. He comes to meet us as we are, to welcome us into his family, to forgive us of our sins, and to walk beside us into the next chapter of our lives, however uncertain it may be.

In a dream, Joseph hears a voice: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and you shall name him Emmanuel, which means, “God is with us.”

When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife, but had no marital relations with her until she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus. (Matthew 1:23–25).