Matthew 1:18-25
Now the birth of Jesus, the Messiah, took place in this way. When his mother, Mary, was engaged to Joseph, but before they were living together, she was found to be with child by the Holy Spirit. Being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, he planned to dismiss her quietly. But just when he resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, Son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife. The child conceived in her womb is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”
All of this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the prophet: “Look, the virgin will conceive and bear a Son and he will be called ‘Emmanuel’ which means ‘God is with us.’”
So Joseph did as he was commanded. He took Mary to be his wife, but he had no marital relations with her until after she had borne a son; and he named him Jesus.
We all know names are a thing. I’ve gone by several over the years, depending upon my age, my station in life, and who it is that’s addressing me.
My parents have called me by my initials – M.R. – short for Mark Randall – for as long as I can remember. I realize “M.R.” isn’t a thing at all, really. BJ, TJ, AJ, CJ, sure. JD is a good one. But “M.R.” is strange. It’s not shorter than Mark. It saves no time. And it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, either.
In High School, I was “Little Havel,” because I have an older brother. In college, I was “Long Hair,” or just plain “Havel,” because 95% of my circle of friends were known exclusively by our last names. My wife calls me “Schmoops” or “Schmoop-Dog,” courtesy of a random Seinfeld episode from years ago. To most of you I’m “Pastor Mark,” or just plain “Pastor,” which I find endearing in a way that surprises me, still.
And my latest, favorite – which some of you may have read about in our daily, digital devotion this Advent – is courtesy of Clive Blackmon who calls me “Pastor Goofy.” I love it because he’s 2. And because his parents swear it has nothing to do with however in the world they talk about me at the Blackmon house, or when I’m not around.
Anyway, I suspect some of you are wondering – like Joseph must have, had he known about what had been “spoken by the prophet” – what was he supposed to name this baby, “Jesus” or “Emmanuel?”
“Jesus,” like the angel said, because he’s going to save his people from their sins?
Or should it be “Emmanuel,” like the prophet predicted, because ‘God is with us?’
So, real quick … a little Bible study.
It helps to know that “Jesus” is the linguistic, vernacular evolution of Yeshua … Joshua … the Old Testament hero … the successor to Moses … the guy who ultimately led the Israelites into the Promised Land. Joshua was Moses’ side-kick and protégé; the mighty military warrior; the brave and faithful leader of God’s chosen ones. And very early on in his story, from the Book of Joshua, he is promised – over and over and over again – that God would be a faithful presence, for him and with him, as he led God’s people to safety and security into that Promised Land.
Joshua 1:5 – “No one shall be able to stand against you all the days of your life. As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will not fail you or forsake you.”
Joshua 1:9 – “I hereby command you: Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”
Joshua 1:17 – “Just as we obeyed Moses in all things, so we will obey you. Only may the Lord your God be with you, as he was with Moses!”
So, God’s promised presence with Joshua was an encouragement for him and a measure of validation for his calling as a leader of God’s people. So Matthew conflates and connects that prophecy from Isaiah about Immanuel – “God with us” – with the naming of Yeshua … Joshua … Jesus, which means something like “Yahweh helps” or “Yahweh saves,” because the story of Joshua is covered up with this notion and promise that God accomplishes that help – God does the work of salvation – by way of God’s ever-faithful presence for and with God’s people.
And the thing is, “Jesus” – as a name – wasn’t really all that special. It was a pretty common name actually, as you might imagine, once you know Joshua’s story. Lots of parents, apparently, had named their little boys after Joshua – this hero of their people.
So, what we’re supposed to notice as much as anything – what’s really special about this story of Jesus’ naming – is that Joseph named him at all. We know about the drama and back story of Mary becoming pregnant in the first place – while she and Joseph were planning to be married, but before they had sealed the deal. We know that Joseph would have, could have, should have – by some standards – punished and abandoned Mary for what was sure to bring judgment, shame, and skepticism upon them both.
So, Joseph’s act of naming this child was a bold, defiant, faithful, loving, brave act of adopting Jesus into his life, into his family – and into the family and line of David. It’s no mistake that Matthew reports the angel as having addressed Joseph so formally and completely: “Joseph, Son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife…” Names are a thing, after all, remember.
Now, I’ve talked often about how much credit I like to give Mary for Jesus’ worldview … about his concern for the poor … about his call to do justice … about his passion for railing against the rich, the mighty, the oppressors of the world and the powers that be. I love, in these days of Christmas, to imagine Mary teaching and singing the words of her Magnificat as a quiet, holy, strange, rebellious lullaby to her little boy – while she carried him in her belly; in the manger on the night of his birth; and every time he wouldn’t sleep or needed to nurse; and all throughout his childhood, too.
I imagine she sang something like that song she first sung upon learning of her pregnancy; that song about God’s mercy being for those who fear him; about a God who scatters the proud in the thoughts of their hearts; about a God who brings down the powerful from their thrones; who lifts up the lowly; who fills the hungry with good things and who sends the rich away empty.
It’s no wonder Jesus grew up with a clear picture of what it looked like to do justice, to love his neighbor, to care for the poor, to forgive his enemies, to walk humbly with God, to flip some tables every once in a while, and all the rest.
But this morning, we get a glimpse of – and a reminder that – Jesus learned some of that from Joseph, too. And it begins with this seemingly simple act of naming. Because naming a child was the father’s responsibility in Jesus’ day, and by doing that, Joseph was claiming Jesus as his. And it was no small thing – it was a bold, defiant, humble, loving, faithful act to welcome this Jesus into his family – the family and House of David.
Joseph could have “dismissed her quietly,” remember. Or he could have had Mary cast out or killed, even, for claiming to be pregnant with the Holy Spirit’s baby; because who would believe that?! But what Joseph shows us – and what Jesus surely realized in time – was that his Dad chose righteousness and faithfulness and loving-kindness and grace over the law and over public opinion and over and above his own self-interest, his own self-preservation, his own pride, ego, and well-being.
And to put it plainly, we need more Josephs in the world, these days. We need men – like Joseph and his little boy – who listen to and who believe women. We need men who stand up for and protect women and girls – like Joseph and his son did – when men in power would sooner doubt, disgrace, and demean them. We need men – like Joseph and Jesus – who don’t just go along to get along. We need men – like Joseph and Jesus – who break the rules – and maybe even the laws, on occasion – when they are unjust, unfair, and unkind. We need men – like Joseph and Jesus – who look for ways to sacrifice, to be generous, to be unapologetically vulnerable to God’s claim on their lives and to trust the difference they can make in the world, when they do.
And we can – and we are called to do this – men, women, and everyone in between – no matter the names by which we are known in the world. We can – and we are called to do this – because of the name we share as baptized children of God, bound by love for one another and bound by love for the sake of the world, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.
