December 1998 Issue

With Hitler beginning to be on the prowl in Europe, Peter Marshall was prophetic in his sermon Victory to the Vanquished preached in New York Avenue Presbyterian Church, Washington, D.C., in 1939. Marshall believed that there was a lesson in verse 20 ("for they are dead which sought the young child's life") that the world had never really learned. In the text, the would-be murderer Herod died himself rather than the young Christ child. Centuries later, Caesar sought the life of the young child -- the Christian church. For a time, it looked as though Caesar would succeed. A near apocalypse occurred for the early Christians, and in the eyes of the world, Caesar was victorious, and the martyrs defeated. The final verdict is of course that the Roman Empire was the one to die. Marshall drew parallels with the Germany of his day. "It will not be long until the same epitaph may be spoken of Germany ..." Marshall also took strong issue with Hitler's anti-Semitism. "Does Hitler believe that by kindling a bonfire and heaping upon it copies of immortal music he can destroy Mendelssohn's Wedding March, or his Spring Song? Can he take away from all who know Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue?"

The balance of Marshall's sermon took up the theme of the eternal steadfastness of the church. "Surely it is about time that the modern world gave up expecting the Church to die because she is behind the times." Marshall extolled the virtues of the church and declared that the church was more in touch with the world that the world knew. The preacher closes with these words: "... Then the Church will go on, and on, and on, for she is eternal. She can never die for her Head has declared that the gates of hell shall not prevail against it ... And, remember, ... they are dead which sought the young child's life."¹

The masterful preacher Don Wardlaw (with Catherine Gonzalez) shared a sermon on the Protestant Hour in 1974 entitled To Egypt For The Time Being. Wardlaw picks up on the emotional letdown of the first Sunday after Christmas. He introduces his listeners to a quote from W.H. Auden: "Well so that is that, now we must dismantle the tree, putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes, some have gotten broken; the holly and mistletoe must be taken down and burnt, and the children got ready for school; there are enough leftovers to do, warmed up for the rest of the week, not that we have much appetite, having drunk such a lot, stayed up late, attempted quite unsuccessfully to love all of our relatives and in general grossly over estimated our powers ..."

After Christmas, Wardlaw explains, we are stuck in "the time being." It is a difficult time of course, back to the routines and same old monotonous chores. We don't like this time being because it is a plateau and not a peak. Things are not the same as they were on the 25th because we are tired. "The time being is the most trying time of all!", declares Wardlaw.

And so it must have been for Joseph and Mary as they journeyed to Egypt for "the time being." Much like their Hebrew ancestors some thirteen hundred years before, the young couple began their life together trekking through the Sinai wilderness. Wardlaw suggests however that we can feel closer to Mary and Joseph on the way to Egypt than we can there in the stable at Bethlehem. Why? Because it is more like where we live, where there are no magical stars, angelic choirs, wise men from the east and wide-eyed shepherds. Like Mary and Joseph, we too find ourselves "alone on the vast expanse of the time being," but, according to Wardlaw, this is the real test of faith. He explains how "any pagan" can have their heart warmed at Christmas, but after Christmas, in "the time being," one shows one's true colors.

Actually, it is when the festivities of Christmas are over, insists Wardlaw, that the true Christ comes! Christ is always attracted to the ordinary. His birth was in the midst of ordinary stuff: a stable, run-of-the-mill shepherds. He called ordinary people: fishermen, tax-collectors and the like. Consequently, Wardlaw claimed that Christmas was in January rather than in December, in the ordinary month of January which is a time being "waiting to be filled with significance" by the real Christ.

Wardlaw bridges the time being of his sermon by closing with more words from W.H. Auden: "In the meantime, there are bills to be paid, machines to keep in repair, irregular verbs to learn, the time being to redeem from insignificance ..."

In 1979, Alvin C. Porteous set forth a statement on liberation theology with a new twist in his book Preaching to Suburban Captives. The book contains several chapters on theological foundations and profiles on suburbia. The final chapters are a series of sermons. One, Jesus: The Refugee, attempts to illuminate a new image of Jesus in the Christmas story. Probably due to our uncomfortableness, we usually manage to leave out of the Christmas story the slaughter of the children and the hurried flight to Egypt. The means that power (Herod) will use because of its insecurity, perhaps too, reminds us of our own attempts to keep our power. We want to forget that Jesus, the savior of the world, began his life as a political refugee. Porteous argued strongly that Jesus is still in the world with his brother and sister refugees (Mt. 25:45). Their homelessness is his home. "And Jesus will continue to be a refugee till the end of time, as long as we shut his brothers and sisters out of our homes and hearts."

The preacher closes with a moving legend. It seems that as Mary, Joseph and Jesus were on their way to Egypt they grew weary as the evening came and sought shelter in a cave. When the infant Jesus was safely inside, a little spider, somehow recognizing the babe's significance, longed to do something for the child. Since it was cold outside, the spider decided to spin her web across the entrance of the cave, to form a curtain of sorts. Soon after the spider had spun the gift, one of Herod's death squads came to the cave looking for children who might be in hiding. As they approached the cave, they saw the spider's web which was now covered with hoarfrost, glowing brilliantly in the moonlight. The soldiers concluded that no one was in the cave since anyone entering the cave would have knocked down the web. Leaving the holy family in peace, the soldiers passed on. "And that, so they say, is why to this day we put tinsel on our Christmas trees; for the glittering tinsel streamers stand for the spider's web, white with hoarfrost, which kept the little refugee Christ-child safe in the cave on his way to Egypt." The preacher suggests that we too might want to "weave a web of protection" for some of Jesus' fellow refugees.²

David H.C. Read on the National Radio Pulpit in 1982 preached a sobering sermon, Herod Is Still Around, on this text. Advent, suggests Read, is filled with interesting characters: the uncompromising John the Baptist, the graceful Mary, the holy child, but also the looming figure of Herod, the symbol of darkness. Demonstrating his knowledge of church history and liturgy, Read explains how Herod played a large role in Medieval Christmas hymnody and pageantry. In those times, there were contemporary Herods all around which enabled the people not to lose sight of this vicious killer of children.

Read points out that beginning about one-hundred years ago Herod was not included in the carols and songs of Christmas. Little was made of the terror of Herod's Christmas; the emphasis was on peace, joy and good will. "O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie." Of course, this was not exactly the case if one sees Christmas through Herod's eyes. "The world in solemn stillness lay to see the angels sing." Hardly! Herod was plotting death. In fact, through a dream, an angel advised Joseph to flee with his family to Egypt.

Herod is still around, cautions Read. There is a "lingering evil" in the world that time has not cured. The human race has not evolved out of Herod mentalities. Child abuse and infanticide take place today. Nuclear weapons are a kind of Herod in the fear and potential disaster they possess. The eloquent preacher insists that we need to sense the presence of Herod (evil) to understand fully the meaning of Christmas. Jesus was not born into an environment of all song and joy; there was evil lurking in the shadows. The Gospel story is plain with this fact, but we close our eyes to this terrible truth. The Gospel tells it like it is and is "neither blindly optimistic or bleakly pessimistic." It is the "word of grace spoken in full view of original sin."

John W. Vannorsdall on the Protestant Hour in 1978 shared a quite different (from the above) understanding of the text. In his sermon, Flight to Egypt, he also shares his misgivings about the common celebrations around the New Year (kissing at midnight and bold resolutions that are quickly forgotten). On the contrary, he suggests the New Year begin in "retreat" because it is part of the Gospel story (the flight to Egypt). The Herod of all time is out to get us. We are only human; we can only do so much. The better we are at things, the more that will be asked of us. We might need to retreat from the Herods that want us. "An occasional flight into Egypt could well be a Christian's resolution on New Year's Day." It is a hostile world. Herod's soldiers are everywhere; demands are always upon us.

Maybe, we too will be warned in a dream to flee to Egypt. (Vannorsdall suggests that some might be warned through his sermon.) The preacher asks, "What does one do in Egypt?" He proceeds to supply the answer: In retreat, one can take stock of one's life. We need to reflect on our lives while in Egypt. Where are our energies being spent? How goes it in our lives? Second, while in Egypt, we can assess what it might mean to change if we deem that necessary. What could be most life-giving in our lives? Who needs our care and attention? How does God want me to live? In retreat, suggests Vannorsdall, we can be in touch with God's answers for our life questions.

This preacher expresses personal gratitude for the paradigm of the flight into Egypt, and the model Jesus gave of slipping away from the crowds for refreshment so that he could face the hostile world without bitterness. "Make your onward and upward resolutions if you like, but as for me, I resolve more often to engage in creative hiding and renewal until some of these calamities be overpast and then to return refreshed and by God's grace strengthened to follow Christ."

David Howell