Matthew 3:13-17
Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw God’s Spirit descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from the heavens said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

Questions about my name have followed me my whole life. “Cogan? Wow, that's a unique name! Where does it come from? Or, what does it mean? Is that a family name? Or my personal favorite, “How'd your parents come up with that?” I’ve become quite fond of this interaction and some of us have already had it! As for the questions, I have no idea the name's origin or nationality, or what it means. It’s not a family name. And if or when you meet my parents you should ask them how they came up with it or why they plagued me with this practical joke for my whole life.

Shakespeare, by way of Juliet, quipped, “What’s in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. Meaning a name is nothing more than what we infer upon it, the emphasis we give it. And while there is certainly truth to that, in our culture we give enormous emphasis to names and even more so titles. Titles impress, they grant authority, respect, sometimes even honor. We work hard to get these titles!

Maybe their letters before or after our names, or a phrase: Dr, Engineer, Mother, Teacher, Director. Often we hide behind these titles or names that we’ve been given or claimed. We place our identity in them, thinking we will find affirmation out in the world through them.

I’ve thought a fair amount about this considering I soon will gain two new titles, pastor and father; both for which I’ve yearned. But even knowing all that you do about me, my name, my soon to be titles, you don’t really know me. You don’t know what kind of pastor or father I will be.

And if you judged me just by name you’d think “Idk… he must be kinda weird”. We assume much, but really we can’t know a lot about a person from names and titles alone. I think the same is true for Jesus and why the story of his baptism is so revealing.

Thus far in Matthew, Jesus is given a few names and titles: Jesus, meaning Yahweh is salvation, the Messiah, meaning the anointed, Emmanuel, King of the Jews. Talk about some impressive names and titles, can you imagine the pressure?! Yet, up until now, Jesus hasn’t done anything. Everything has happened to him: he was birthed, named, visited, taken to Egypt, and brought to Nazareth.

Jesus may have names and titles, and we can (and do) assume much about him because of those, just as the people of Matthew’s community did. But Jesus has yet to act or do anything himself. What kind of Messiah will he be? How will Yahweh’s salvation come from him? In what ways will he be God with us? And how do we, as readers or hearers of this story, know that these names and titles are right and true? I certainly don’t believe all of the things that happen in my dreams… do you?!

It’s as if the author of Matthew knew these questions would arise at this point in the story. And right on time, Jesus came to John at the Jordan. It’s really an odd event if we think about it: why would Jesus, the anointed, need baptism? And if John’s baptism is one for repentance of sins, why would the sinless Jesus need it? These questions are interesting and important and the early church wrestled with them fiercely. However, by focusing solely on such questions we risk missing what this baptism tells us about Jesus.

John, by his question, takes the position as the less important person when Jesus arrived. But Jesus flips the script, adamant that he was to be baptized by John. “for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” The “for us” links John and Jesus together as partners in carrying out God’s saving plan. Jesus chose to work with John, this mere mortal to bring about God’s will.

And then this most miraculous scene unfolds as Jesus came out of the water, he saw the sky open to heavens, the Holy Spirit falling in dove form upon him, and then God spoke not only to Jesus, but to John and the others gathered, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased”. Now we can begin to hear and see more clearly who this Jesus is and the ways in which he works.

God did not speak of names and titles, but of Jesus' identity: child of God, beloved. And perhaps even better, God affirms, nay celebrates his identity saying, “with whom I am well pleased”. Jesus did nothing to earn this: he had done no miracle, no feeding of thousands, no teaching the crowds, no healing the sick. The only thing he did was get baptized, revealing to us the way Jesus works. Not with power or force, but in humble obedience Jesus joined with John so that he would bear the sin of all those baptized.

Think of all the names and titles you bear: some you love and some you don’t. Some you were given and some you claimed. Some you earned and for some you yearn. And yet, these names, these titles… they do not define you whether you want them to or you don’t. They don’t give affirmation as to who you are. Only baptism does that... because in baptism God claims you as God’s own and gives you not a name or a title, but your identity.

Above all you are a beloved child of God… and because of Christ, God looks upon you and says, “with you I am well pleased”. You did nothing to earn that. In fact, there’s nothing you could do. God freely gives it to you and we call that grace. And is there anything more that we could want? than to know who we are and whose we are… to be celebrated by the One who created us… to be loved and redeemed by the humble and obedient Servant who, as the prophet says, brings light to the nations, who opens the eyes of those blind to suffering and oppression, and who will establish justice in the earth.

Not only does God give us our identity but also our mission. Just as Jesus chose to work with John so also In baptism God chooses to work through us; the lowly, weak, sinful humans that we are because that’s who composes the body of Christ.

We, you and I, have mutually chosen to be partners in mission together, of which I am thrilled. Before that, You all chose to be partners in mission and have done incredible work. Yet most important is the fact that Christ chose you as a partner in mission. And together we are tasked with the mission of the humble and obedient servant: to bring light to the nations, to open the eyes of those blind to suffering and oppression, and to establish justice in the earth.

Over the next few weeks and months, I will learn your names and your titles. But more than that, I want to know who you are: how you experience God in your life, what your passions are, and the ways you feel God at work in this community.

And I am confident we will move forward in this mission we share, not because of our names or our titles, but because of our shared identity. I am confident because God has called us in righteousness, taken us by the hand, and kept us. God is doing new things: in your life, in this community, and in the world.

Together, we will discern, act, and give praise to the one whose name is the Lord. Amen.

Matthew 2:13-23

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:

“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.”

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead. Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.”

This Gospel is always a buzz-kill when it shows up so soon after Christmas – and on New Year’s Day this time around, no less. This story of Herod’s “Slaughter of the Innocents,” as it’s known, is a fly in the ointment of our Christmas celebrations. It is a turd in our New Year’s Eve punch bowl. It is rain on our parade, all the way around. And it’s a story we might wish we would have stayed home from on the first day of 2023.

It is Matthew’s Gospel moving straight from the story of Jesus’ birth, told in just a handful of sentences that say nothing about shepherds in fields, mangers in Bethlehem, angels singing “glory to God” or “peace for those whom he favors.” In Matthew’s version of the story, Mary takes no time to ponder or treasure any of that in the glow of candlelight, like we did on Christmas Eve.

In Matthew’s version of the Christmas story, Mary and Joseph are engaged, there’s going to be a baby, his name will be Jesus – “because he’s going to save his people from their sins” – and that’s that. “That’s the tweet,” you might say, according to Matthew.

And then, some wise men show up, raise the ire of King Herod by tipping him off that this “king of the Jews” has been born, and before you know it, the first family is on the move again – on the run, suddenly – refugees to Egypt – so they can spare their son from the mass murder of children – infants and toddlers, two and under – in Joseph’s hometown. Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year!

So, in keeping with the theme…

Did you know that there’s a war going on over in Yemen that’s been raging for the last eight years? And did you know that tens of thousands of children have been orphaned there because of it? From what I can tell, the ugliness in Yemen is barely on our radar in the U.S. I suspect the reason that war doesn’t make the news, like the one in Ukraine does … the reason their president doesn’t get to speak in front of our congress … the reason their plight doesn’t make it into our consciousness is two-fold. First, because they are brown and because Yemen is the poorest country in the Middle East. And second, because smarter people than me call it all a proxy war between Saudi Arabia and Iran. We like the oil we get from Saudi Arabia and don’t want to have to pay too much for it. Anyway, all of that is another story.

Some call what’s happening in Yemen the worst humanitarian crisis in the world and it’s been going on since 2015. And it made me think of Herod’s “Slaughter of the Innocents” because in addition to all those orphans the war has created, 10,000 children have been killed or maimed, and up to two million more have been displaced – just like Jesus – since it all began.

Merry Christmas.

And did you know there were more mass shootings than there were days in 2022? (Almost twice as many mass shootings as there were days, according to one source I saw.) And did you know that this has been a true statistic every year since 2019? But, I digress. It’s Christmas and our theme today is children.

Last year, just in the United States, 3,597 children died by gunfire, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Nearly two-thirds of gun deaths involving children — 2,279 — were homicides, which have increased by more than 73%, just since 2018. Most of these involved Black children, even though they are a numerical minority in our country. Last year, suicides made up almost 30% of gun deaths among kids, to the tune of 1,078. Unlike homicides, it’s white kids – mostly white, teenage boys – who die by suicide using guns, but that’s growing among Black and Hispanic kids, too.

One last thing. The United States is the only country among our peers – which means, supposedly, that we are “advanced” in terms of industry, technology, standard of living, and what not – we are the only country among such leading nations where gun violence is the number one cause of death among kids. In other countries like ours, kids are more likely to die from car accidents and cancer/diseases.

In the US, in 2020, 4,357 kids under the age of 19 were killed with a gun. In Australia, there were 10.

In the US, in 2020, 4,357 children under the age of 19 were killed with a gun. In the UK, there were 8.

In the US, in 2020, 4,357 boys and girls under the age of 19 were killed with a gun. In Japan, there were 5.

Merry Christmas.

But, to bring this back to something more closely related to Mary and Joseph and Jesus, on the run, remember, from Herod in Bethlehem to safety in Egypt, it’s interesting to know that nearly 130,000 migrant children entered our own government's shelter system in 2022, which was an all-time high thanks to a record number of minors who show up unaccompanied – alone – by themselves – without a parent or a protector or a guardian to claim them. That’s 8,000 more than last year – and a statistic that’s more than two months old already. Can you imagine how desperate and dangerous things much be for a child to be sent or taken to or left in a foreign land, without a parent, protector, or guardian to claim them? I know kids who won’t go to summer camp on their own or children who won’t spend the night at a friend’s house.

Merry Christmas.

We are generations away from Herod’s “Slaughter of the Innocents,” but all of this is why Matthew invokes Rachel as part of his version of the Christmas story. She weeps for the children – her own and for others, and for ours, I imagine, too.

See, when Matthew, by way of the prophet Jeremiah, invokes the notion of Rachel, weeping for her children, he was referring to the people of Israel being banished to exile and captivity in Babylon, and having to pass by the grave of Rachel, one of their matriarchs, whose grief cried out from the ground on which they traveled. That was the weeping and loud lamentation they heard at Ramah.

While God promised them hope and deliverance and salvation, in the end, much like the Good News of Christmas means to be for us now, Rachel was the mother who wouldn’t let the people forget about the children – her children, their own children, or any of God’s children for that matter. Rachel’s tears were the rain on their parade.

And I think we’re supposed to listen to Rachel, still, as we hear this hard, holy story about Herod’s slaughter of the innocents and see it happening among us, still, in so many scary, shameful, sinful ways.

Rachel is every mother weeping for her children, even while living with hope for what has come – and for what is coming – in Jesus.

Rachel is every father weeping for his children, even while searching for the joy that has been born – and that will be born again – in Jesus.

Rachel is every parent – and she would/could/should be all of us, together – weeping and wailing and refusing to let our own comfort and joy, our own silent nights, our own peace and prosperity allow us to neglect the reason for Christ’s coming, in the first place…

To bring good news of great joy to ALL people…

To save God’s people from our sins…

To shine light into the darkness in a way that the darkness cannot, has not, will not … ever … overcome it.

Amen. Merry Christmas.

"What's in a Name?"

Weeping Rachel