Beyond Right (Advent 4A)

Beyond Right
Isaiah 7:10-16; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25; Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18
Fourth Sunday of Advent (Year A)
Homily delivered at Trinity Parish Ashland (Oregon)
22 December 2019: 8:00 a.m. Said, 10:00 a.m. Sung Eucharist

The Rev. Fr. Anthony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.

God, give us hearts to feel and love,

Take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

Today, the final Sunday of Advent, is Mary Sunday.  But we hear actually very little about her in today’s Gospel.  That is because the cycle of Gospel readings for this year is from St. Matthew, and in general, Saint Matthew does not focus on women as closely as does Saint Luke.  The principal figure in Matthew’s infancy story is not Mary, but Joseph.  There is no annunciation by the angel Gabriel to the Blessed Virgin here, as in Luke, but only an unexpected pregnancy and a dream explaining it to Joseph, her soon-to-be husband, to whom under the laws of her society she owes sexual fidelity, even before the marriage is performed.   Matthew patterns Joseph after the Genesis patriarch by the same name, the one with a coat of many colors who has dreams and prophetic interpretations, who saves his family by taking them into Egypt. 

 

There is an important detail in this story: “because he was a just man, Joseph did not want to publicly denounce Mary, so he decided to divorce her quietly.”  This assumes that Joseph could exercise the rights accorded to males in that society and, to protect his honor, punish the woman who has so shamed him.  He can do this by publicly accusing her of adultery and divorcing her, since engagement here imposed the same rules as marriage, and perhaps even see her stoned to death. 

But Joseph just can’t conceive of such a harsh way of treating Mary.   He decides a quiet divorce is the kindest way.   Of course, abandoning Mary and her child would mean probable starvation for both or a life of prostitution for Mary, but at least he would not have to know about it.   And for choosing this “merciful, kind way,” Joseph is called “just,” or “upright.” 

Usually, when we say someone is “just,” we define this in contrast to “unjust,” or wicked:   not respecting the minimum rules that defend us all from abuse.   We are “unjust” in this sense when we look out for number one, not play by anyone’s rules, and are nasty, dishonest, brutish, self-seeking, and do all in our power to get away with it.  The religious and legal traditions of most cultures, Joseph’s included, label such unfettered selfishness and shameless pursuit of one’s own pleasure at the expense of others as wicked, as deplorable. 

We often think that the opposite of “wickedness” in this sense is “righteousness” or “being upright,” that is, following those minimum standards of decency and “righteous” behavior. A corollary is encouraging such decency in others, by enforcing the rules and punishing the wicked. 

But this is where it gets tricky:  sometimes our own rules of decency can be used to abuse others.  Our values and sense of rights, our laws, may be skewed and wrong in light of greater concerns:  we can sense this from the distance of our own culture when we think of the basic logic of the rights Joseph enjoys here.  It is based in the oppression of women, in males holding females as chattel property in marriage.  This is an important thing to remember in our own age:  law and morality, so conceived, can themselves be wrong.  People defending exploitation, cruelty and brutality on the basis of “we’re just exercising our legal rights” or “we are just trying to enforce the law” are still trying to defend the indefensible.

Honorable, law-abiding citizens are far better than lawless, selfish, and unrestrained narcissists in pursuit of greed, pleasure, and raw power.   But we can also use law and the rules to beat up on others unfairly.  Compassion for others is the best way to check such a twisting of, such a corruption of, the right.  Generally, this means not standing on our honor and insisting on our rights and dignities. 

But there is something to be said for standing on one’s rights.  I once posted an article saying that seeking inner serenity and balance meant leaving rage at injustice alone.  A dear friend and colleague from the foreign service made this comment:  “It’s a thin line.  Are we like sheep? If we don't speak up, does our silence give approval to the bad behavior now and on future victims?” A Chinese scholar once told me about why he thought there is so little respect for human rights in China: “We get the governments we deserve—we Chinese are so focused on getting along, cultivating acceptance, and gracefully eating bitterness that over the centuries we have enabled tyrant after tyrant.  You Americans stand up for your rights, and your leaders generally respect them.”  

Of course, you can maintain your serenity, not lose your temper, and still be consistent and strong in standing against wrong.   This is what Jesus calls us to do. 

This is because there is a path beyond insisting on our rights, beyond right itself. 

Joseph has a dream, and an angel tells him that Mary has not betrayed him, and rather, that the child to be born is holy.  Joseph must not abandon Mary or the baby.  He is to support and sustain Mary, foster the child, and even give it the heroic, patriotic name Joshua. 

On occasion, God intervenes and talks to us, whether in dreams, or scripture, or contemplative moments, or in the advice of friends.  And sometimes God tells us to go beyond right, beyond good, beyond nice, and truly sacrifice ourselves to make God’s love become flesh in our lives and the lives of others.  Sometimes this means civil disobedience; sometimes simply in forgoing our rights.  

This principle lies behind several sayings in the Sermon on the Mount.  Jesus says that a commandment forbidding a bad thing does not mean you get a free pass on related things that have gone unmentioned.  “You have heard the Law say, do not commit adultery, but I tell you do not even look lustfully on another.  The Law says do not murder, but I say, do not lose your temper in anger or call people demeaning things.” 

Jesus teaches us to forego our rights in a peaceful but robust engagement with evil: “If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him your left.”  If a haughty overlord gives a brutal but dismissive blow with the back of the right hand to someone lower in the pecking order, Jesus says “Don’t strike back.  Instead, stand up tall and turn, forcing them to use their open palm on your left cheek as they would a social equal.”  

He also says “If a creditor sues you for your outer garment, give him your inner garment as well. Let your nakedness shame them and their system of exploitative oppression.”  Jesus also says, “If the Roman military compels you to carry baggage for them for a mile, insist on going with them a second mile.”   The one mile limit had been set up to prevent unmanageable popular disgruntlement and the uprisings it inspired. “Make those Romans break their own rules in order to show just truly how bad things are.”   Don’t stand on your own rights.  Give them up, and actively use the sacrifice to help bring the Reign of God near. 

Joseph’s path is less resistance-oriented than this, but all the more self-sacrificing.  He listens to the dream and then spends the rest of his life supporting and nurturing the woman and child whose abandonment had been his legal right.

Even in his infancy, even in the womb, Jesus calls us to abandon self, serve those who have no claim on us, and make God’s love present.  May we listen to that dream.  May we follow Joseph’s example and follow this call.  May we go beyond just and unjust, and beyond right. 

In the name of God, Amen.