By the time Matthew 2 draws to a close, Joseph has had four separate dreams directly from God to guide him in a new direction. He’s not the Joseph we know whose story is characterized by meaningful dreams, is he? The Bible’s original Joseph, whose story gets going in Genesis 37, both receives dreams from God and is blessed to interpret the dreams of others. These dreams take Joseph’s story eventually into Egypt, from which his family’s descendants would later have to be rescued in the Exodus. Interestingly enough, Matthew 2 shows us the new Joseph’s dreams taking him, with Mary and Jesus, into and later out of Egypt as well. These echoes are not an accident; Matthew wants us to make these connections.
The echoes don’t end there. In Matthew 2, Herod behaves a lot like Pharaoh. He nervously clings to his power when he hears a new king has been born, the same fear Pharaoh articulates when we sees that the Israelites are growing to a population over which the Egyptians will soon lose control. This is what power does: it gets nervous at the first sign of its own fragility. This is the politics of the world. When we say “politics,” we mean – how do those with power rule those without power? The politics of Herod are the politics of Pharaoh are the politics of most governments – to maintain power and exercise violence against anyone who threatens it. And so, just like Pharaoh before him (Exodus 1), Herod commands the murder of all baby boys in and around Bethlehem in the hopes that this new king will be one of them.
A new Exodus is taking place. God’s people are under the rule of one Pharaoh or another, but the rescue operation is well under way. Matthew quotes from Hosea 11: “Out of Egypt I called my son.” That’s what the story of God’s people always is – finding ourselves in the clutches of power that would enslave, but God’s resolve to rescue wins out.
And then Matthew quotes from Jeremiah 31: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.” (Matthew 2:18) Simply put, lament is essential to this story. We cannot avoid its bitterness. It’s forcing us to mourn the evil that mobilizes against the powerless on account of Jesus, the real king of the world, being in the world. Yes, this story means courage for people like Joseph who are afraid. This story means joy and newness for people like the magi whose past life is characterized by idolatry. But this story also means that Jesus being in the world is drawing horrific evil out of its hiding places.
This is God’s politics – to comfort those who suffer the most. God’s politics are the opposite of Herod’s in every way. Power in God’s hands looks like a newborn baby. It looks like a family of refugees trying to escape a psychotically violent government. Power in God’s hands looks like a cross. In his most famous sermon, Jesus will go on to say, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Avoiding grief, avoiding the ugliest parts of our world, is not good and blessed life. Just the opposite. To mourn for ourselves and with those who suffer the most is the good and blessed life, because it is the life that will be found by the compassionate presence of God.
And that’s what this baby is going to make of us, people who mourn for and with the suffering of the powerless and who resist Herod the way Jesus does – not with righteous violence but by loving our enemies.
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