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Advent
Exploring the text
Matthew is a good Gospel for Advent. It contrasts strongly with Mark, which is profoundly unhelpful in Advent. Barely has Markâs Gospel begun before John the Baptist and Jesus burst onto the scene and begin the story in earnest. Matthewâs Gospel is very different and builds up the picture much more slowly and patiently, reminding its readers not only of the importance of waiting but of how long Godâs people had waited for this moment.
The genealogy
It is hardly surprising that the compilers of the Lectionary opted not to include Matthewâs genealogy in the readings â even the most talented reader would struggle to make it interesting when read out in church. Nevertheless, the genealogy of Matthew is very important during Advent since it focuses our attention on waiting. The point that Matthew wishes to emphasize in these opening verses is how far back Jesusâ roots went. In the face of his detractors, who claimed that he was changing Judaism, bringing new ideas and, maybe, failing to understand what Judaism really was, Matthew took care to show that Jesusâ origins stretched as far back as the father of Judaism himself.
The purpose of biblical genealogies is always theological rather than historical. In an age without electoral rolls, census data and historical records offices, it was impossible either to prove or disprove genealogical claims of this kind. Even to raise the question of their historicity is to miss the point. This is emphasized by the fact that the genealogy is traced via Joseph who, Matthew makes clear, is not Jesusâ biological father. * Apparently this caused no problems at all in Matthewâs mind, even though it raises many questions for us today, and probably gives us a clue about the symbolic power of legal paternity in the ancient world. Once accepted in Josephâs family, Jesusâ line was that of Joseph, whether his genes were biologically of that line or not. In the genealogy Matthew is making some vitally important theological points, all intended to demonstrate that Jesus was embedded deep within the story of Godâs salvation.
A couple of noteworthy features of the genealogy re-emphasize this point. The first is that Matthew locates Jesus in the story of the key moments of Godâs salvation in history. The genealogy enables Matthew to mention not only Abraham but David, Hezekiah and Josiah, all kings who sought to bring Godâs people back to themselves and to proper worship of God.
A second feature of the genealogy is that it is themed in three lots of 14 generations (a double perfect number), demonstrating that Jesusâ birth occurred at an opportune time. Both the story into which he was born and the time at which his birth took place pointed to Jesus being the âOneâ so long awaited. If we look at the three lots of 14 this becomes even clearer. The first 14 end with David; the second with the exile; the third with the birth of the Messiah. Matthew is pointing out that God had intervened to save his people after 14 generations, first with David and then through the exile. Now the time was ripe for him to do so again.
We cannot leave the genealogy without pausing for a moment to notice its oddest feature. Woven within it are five women: Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, Bathsheba and Mary. It is extremely unusual to find women included in genealogies where the family tree is traced exclusively down the male line. Inevitably there has been substantial discussion among scholars as to why the five should be included here. There is no agreed answer but the most favoured solution is that all five are slightly dubious (some more so than others). Tamar disguised herself as a âharlotâ and conceived her twins by her father-in-law; Rahab was a âharlotâ and saved Godâs people in Jericho; Ruth, a foreigner from the much hated Moab, seduced Boaz on the threshing floor; Bathsheba, mother of Solomon, committed adultery with King David; and Mary conceived Jesus outside wedlock (albeit by the action of the Holy Spirit). The presence of Maryâs four predecessors suggests that Matthew is subtly defending Jesusâ reputation against criticism that his irregular conception rules him out of being able to save Godâs people. Matthew demonstrates that Godâs story of salvation has always contained irregularities, women whose actions might be considered by some to be reprehensible but which, in fact, allowed Godâs salvation to come about. Jesusâ birth might be irregular but this does not detract from the salvation he has brought.
John the Baptist
John the Baptist symbolizes in Matthew this long period of waiting for the one who would come to save Godâs people. He has a much bigger role in Matthew than in any of the other Gospels, where he is mentioned largely in passing. In Matthew, however, we begin to glimpse the significance of this prophetic, troubling character. On one level, Johnâs portrayal is very similar to that we find in the other Gospels. He is an Elijah-type figure, living in the wilderness, dressed, as Elijah was in 2 Kings 1.8, in camel hair with a belt around his waist. He is clearly the precursor of Christ and is linked, as he is in all the Gospels, with âthe voice crying in the wildernessâ (Isaiah 40).
The significance of the use of this passage from Isaiah is that the voice in the wilderness was preparing for Godâs return to his people. In the exile, God had abandoned the Temple, and his people with it, because of their actions and their betrayal of the covenant relationship. In Isaiah 40, the prophet recognizes that God will return but that the people must be prepared for it. John the Baptistâs location in the wilderness by the Jordan not only symbolized Godâs return across the desert to his people but also the very first entry into the land with Joshua. Going out to the wilderness represented not just the leaving of everyday life but a very specific summoning outwards to the spot where it all first began and would begin again. Jesusâ own baptism there was the symbol that this great event, the moment when Godâs people could truly return from exile in the company of their saviour, had begun.
John the Baptist is often presented as the precursor of Jesus â as he is in Mark and Luke â but in Matthew he becomes more than this. One of the striking features of Matthewâs account of John the Baptist is that John proclaims, âRepent, for the kingdom of heaven has come nearâ (Matthew 3.2), exactly the same thing that Jesus proclaims in Matthew 4.17. John is not simply the precursor of Jesus like the other prophets but is the inaugurator of a new age, proclaiming what Jesus is also to proclaim. Nevertheless, John has an ambiguous relationship with this new age. He inaugurated the new age but, as Jesus makes clear in Matthew 11.11 (âthe least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than heâ), he was not part of it. He stood on the threshold, proclaimed the message of Jesus, but never became a part of this new kingdom.
Many scholars believe that this was the case not because John was unimportant, but because he was so very important. Josephus, the Jewish historian, reports with approval in Antiquities 18.116â19 that John the Baptist âwas a good man and had exhorted the Jews to lead righteous livesâ. This, along with the evidence in Acts (and Johnâs Gospel) that the followers of John the Baptist remained together long after his death, suggests that it was vital to Matthew to present John as important (because he was) but very much not a part of the new era of Christ. John then becomes someone who stands on the threshold between the old and the new; prophetic in style but proclaiming the message of the kingdom just as Jesus did.
The end of the age
As we are beginning to see, Matthewâs Gospel presents Jesus as the beginning of a new age. The genealogy in chapter 1 presents the history of Godâs people in three lots of 14 generations, the implication being that now was the opportune moment for a new era to begin. John the Baptist stands perfectly balanced on the cusp of this new era, symbolizing the prophets of old but speaking the words of Jesus and inaugurating the new era. In Advent we reflect on this new age, inaugurated by John and lived out in Jesus, but we also look forward to yet another new age: the new age that Jesus and his disciples talked about in Matthew 24.
The theme of the coming of the new age often leads to a sense of discomfort during Advent. This is partially because those who love this theme too much spend hours speculating on whether or not the precise signs of the end portrayed in Matthew can be found in contemporary events. This is hardly a new phenomenon: in times of great stress throughout the whole of Christian history, people have speculated about whether or not contemporary events are a sign of the end. To do so, however, is to misunderstand what Jesus says in Matthew 24. The point of the passage is not the signs of the end but the waiting for the Son of Man to return. The signs of the end are given so that you will know that it is worth enduring through them as you wait for the much greater moment when the Son of Man will come. Matthew 24 is, like many similar passages, a bizarre message of hope. Laying out the disasters that will come is designed to encourage us all to endure, to look beyond them and to keep our eyes fixed in hope on the one who will come â to borrow words from the book of Revelation, to wipe all tears from our eyes.
Matthewâs Gospel reminds us all that we are to become figures like John the Baptist, drawing people out from where they are to a place in which they, and we, can truly prepare for the coming of Godâs kingdom on earth.
Imagining the text
A distinctive feature of the birth narrative in Matthew 1 and 2 is the way in which Joseph is foregrounded in the story of Jesusâ nativity and early childhood. Joseph is not a bystander, separated from the action, but through his relationship with Jesus and his mother Mary is given a key role in welcoming and safeguarding Godâs purposes of salvation for the whole world. The Advent poem below, and the two that follow in Christmas and Epiphany â the seasons celebrating the incarnation and revelation of God in Jesus Christ â reflect on the role of Joseph as it is told in Matthewâs Gospel, and on what insights the character and actions of Joseph offer into the nature of Godâs calling and the kinds of human response which his discipleship shows.
Another distinctive feature of Matthew is the genealogy which opens the Gospel. Unlike conventional Jewish genealogies, this family tree contains women as well as men, and four of the women named are extraordinary; they are foreigners (non-Jews) and in one sense, sinners. Tamar, who seduced her father-in-law Judah (Genesis 38); Rahab, a prostitute (Joshua 2.1â21; 6.17â25); Bathsheba, who committed adultery with King David (2 Samuel 11); and Ruth the Moabite, who enticed Boaz (Ruth 3). The inclusion of these women in the genealogy of Godâs Messiah celebrates the purpose of God to bless all the nations of the earth through a Messiah descended from Abraham, and suggests that Maryâs son, conceived and born outside wedlock, is another, final expression of Godâs grace. In this history of salvation Joseph is named as the âhusband of Maryâ, emphasizing that he is not the father of Jesus the Saviour. But this is no disgrace; it is the culmination of Godâs promise to Abraham, that in Jesus all the world will be blessed.
In this poem Joseph the carpenter thinks about the ways in which different kinds of wood are used in his craft â exotic cedar wood from Lebanon in the Temple, and in his own joinery any timber on which he can lay his hands; both are beautiful and practical. For him this is an analogy for the way God practises the skilled work of salvation â using not only the best material, but also whatever will do the job.
The beauty of country furniture
Though I leave my tools at home,
in the Temple I remain a carpenter.
Prayer is measuring its built dimensions with ecstatic eyes â
the height, length, breadth of hallowed space â
my fingers tracing sacred joinery, the screens
of finest skill.
Most of all it is the wood that heavens me,
solid, aromatic, dark,
cedar shipped from Lebanon,
exquisite, dear, bought with royal Persian gold
to make the carved and chiselled place
where God draws near.
Back in the provinces, making stools and family dressers,
it is the same skills with local timber,
cut from whatâs to hand in field and coppice â
the oak and pine â which make a home holy
for the sacred outsider: Tamar, Rahab, Bathsheba, Ruth,
even my good wife, Mary.
Reflecting on the text
Who are you?
During Advent we are invited to consider John the Baptist and his relationship to Jesus. John the Baptist appears in the tradition of the great prophets, preaching repentance and reform to the people of Israel. John the Baptist is presented as the figure who bridges the time before Christ and prepares the way for Christâs own ministry. John, the bridge person, asks us what we are looking for in this bridge time. John baptizes for repentance and for forgiveness of sins, preparing the way for Godâs salvation.
I have always been intrigued by family genealogies, encouraged, at least in part, by the BBC series Who Do You Think You Are? The programme takes famous people into hidden parts of their family history, often revealing unexplored dimensions of their past. New discoveries, shameful secrets, connections and unanswered questions all play their part in the deeper revelation of a person that viewers t...