“Something precious in the wide expanse”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Matthew 1:1-17 and Isaiah 2:1-5

November 27, 2022

I feel like we should begin by applauding Cassidy for reading all those names. Whew. This text from Matthew isn’t one most of us have had to read aloud….or even that most of us have probably taken much time to read silently. It’s what we might call a “throwaway text.” You’re reading along, you see all those names, your brain turns to mush and you just kind of skim through until you get to some more action. 

The Bible is full of genealogies. Apparently there are 18 of them in the First Testament and in the Second Testament we have 2 separate genealogies of Christ. The one Cassidy so graciously read for us today and another in the Gospel of Luke. If we resist the urge to skip over these texts, it’s actually pretty interesting to dig into them. For starters, the two lists in Matthew and Luke are very different. Just as the account of Christ’s birth is different in each gospel, so are the lists of Jesus’s ancestors. The list in Luke goes all the way back to Adam and the overall feel we get from it is how Jesus came to shine a light for the whole world.

Matthew’s list puts more of an emphasis on Jesus’s Jewish identity, tracing his lineage back to Abraham and highlighting Jesus’s royal status as the great, hoped-for King of the Jews. 

One fun fact about both lists is this: Jesus’s most immediate ancestor is Joseph. He is described as the son of Joseph, husband of Mary. Which is a lovely way the Bible affirms that family is not only about DNA but also about the ways we claim one another as kin. The same texts that tell us Joseph was Jesus’s adoptive father also make it clear that Joseph was Jesus’s REAL father. Love makes a family. 

If you know anything about these genealogies at all, it’s probably this: Matthew’s list includes several brave and spicy women. Though most genealogies in Jesus’s time and culture would have been traced through the patriarchs, Matthew can’t resist reminding us that Jesus is descended not just from powerful kings but some pretty incredible matriarchs, as well. 

We have Tamar, who resisted the confines of the patriarchy by using her unfaithful father-in-law’s weaknesses against him and getting what was rightfully hers. And Rahab, who existed on the margins of her society and bravely took in foreigners, helping the Israelites in their military campaign in Jericho. There’s Ruth, who faithfully clung to her mother-in-law Naomi and stayed loyal to her when she could have just as easily struck out on her own. And finally, Bathsheba, who - like Tamar - was the victim of a misogynistic culture and had the deck stacked against her - and yet she persevered through grief and loss, eventually becoming the queen mother. 

All of these women are complex characters. When I was a child, I was taught that they were unsavory; promiscuous and not ladylike enough to serve as role models. But when we resist the temptation to see this as a throwaway text - and the temptation to see these matriarchs as throwaway ancestors - we find powerful stories of people who exude resilience, survival, tenacity, and strength. 

If you’d like to learn more about the rich stories of Jesus’s matriarchs, you’re highly encouraged to join us for our adult Sunday School class this Advent season, or at least get a copy of the book we’re reading together. There’s more info about that in this week’s bulletin announcements. 

Matthew’s lifting up of the matriarchs in Jesus’s lineage connected with a book I recently finished: Our Missing Hearts by Celeste Ng. In this dystopian novel, an preteen boy named Bird Gardner is missing his mother. She disappeared several years ago and he doesn’t know where she went or why. But he knows he’s not supposed to ask. He and his father don’t speak of her anymore. 

Bird lives in a world where xenophobia has led to an Orwellian kind of oversight into citizens’ lives. Questioning the government isn’t allowed. Protesting isn’t allowed. Anti-Asian hate crimes are rampant. Safety is an illusion. 

Over the course of the novel, Bird eventually reunites with his mother, Margaret, and discovers why she went missing. He learns that for the past several years she’s been quietly traveling around the country, collecting stories. Stories from families whose children have been stolen by the government - taken away from their families under the guise of protecting the children from anti-American sentiments in their homes. 

I don’t want to give away too much of the book, but Margaret would fit right in with these matriarchs in Jesus’s lineage. She’s strong and wise and cunning. And she’s had to make incredibly difficult decisions because she’s living in a world that is designed to keep people like her quiet. But she perseveres and uses her voice to creatively speak words of hope and healing in a world that desperately needs it. And she does this by lifting up stories of people who exude resilience, survival, tenacity, and strength. 

Margaret refuses to see the disappeared children who have so carefully been hidden away as throwaway stories. At great risk to her own safety, she lovingly seeks out these stories, shining a light on their lives and amplifying their stories for all to hear. Her life, like the lives of Jesus’s foremothers, is one of resistance. And hope. 

Dr. Christine Hong, who is one of the contributors to the Advent devotionals from A Sanctified Art, writes about the power of remembering and honoring our own ancestors as an act of hope. She writes: 

In the Korean tradition, male babies are named by the oldest patriarch on the father’s side of a family. My paternal grandfather died before I was born, so it was my maternal grandfather who built my name. Even before I was born, he declared he would build a meaningful name for me (even though I was not a boy). I would receive a name with intention from the oldest living generation to the newest. He gave me the name Jin, which when paired with my surname, becomes Hong Jin, meaning “something precious in the wide expanse.” When I was born, he was not sure when he would get to meet his granddaughter with the vast ocean separating South Korea from California. In those days, it was not so easy or affordable to fly internationally. The name represented the connection he felt to me and my parents, despite what felt like an insurmountable distance between us. What is the Spirit of God if not the hope against hope in our lives? [2]

“What is the Spirit of God if not the hope against hope in our lives?” As this season of Advent begins, we are invited into this age-old story of hope, resistance, faithfulness. It’s a story full of complex ancestors, risky love, and powerful perseverance. It’s a vast story with room for all of our questions, messiness, and uncertainties. 

What first appeared to be a throwaway text is actually a great reminder of the awe-inspiring tapestry in which we make our home. Each of us is a unique thread with our own particular story. There are no throwaway threads - no throwaway stories or throwaway people. Each of us matters within the whole. 

Each thread is what Dr. Hong speaks of, “Something precious in the wide expanse.” Hong Jin. Margaret. Abraham. Isaac. Jacob. Judah. Tamar. Perez. Rahab. Boaz. Ruth. Jesse. David. Bathsheba. Joseph. Mary. Jesus. You. Me. 

From generation to generation. “Something precious in the wide expanse.” 

Thanks be to God. 

NOTES:

[1] Advent devotional, From Generation to Generation from A Sanctified Art, LLC.