While I remain open to angels working in the world, unseen by the naked eye, I have a theory about the rise in the popularity of angels. First the good news.  I believe people are open to the spiritual world in ways unseen. But, there not just open to the spiritual world as it relates to Christian teaching. They are open to the spiritual world through whatever lens is available. Now, the bad news. I think one of the reasons people are drawn to angels, not in every case mind you, is because people don’t want to deal with the God to whom angels point. What I’m saying is this. When I was a child, I had a healthy fear/respect for my father. Mom was cookies, milk, and cuddles. I think we are interested in angels because God is even more mysterious than we can handle. So we settle for angels because God is too difficult.

Jewish teachings about angels are ancient, going back to the Jewish Bible, the Torah. Cherubim with flaming swords guard the gates of Eden after Adam and Eve are banished (Gen. 3). An angel arrives to tell Abraham he and Sarah will have a child (Gen. 18) and then an angel stays Abraham’s hand when he is about to sacrifice that child (Gen. 22). It is an angel who saves Hagar and Ishmael in the desert (Gen. 21), wrestles with Jacob ( Gen. 32), appears to Moses out of the burning bush (Ex. 3), and announces to Samson’s mother to be that she is to have an exceptional child (Judges 13). Lastly, angels appear to be part of God’s entourage in Isaiah 6.  This list is but a sampling of the angelology of the Bible.

In short, angels are God’s entourage. That’s right, LeBron James isn’t the only one who goes to the game with his boys.

The Talmud, an important work for Christians seeking to experience the manner in which Jews wrestle with the meanings of Jewish sacred  passages, teaches that the four main angels all play different roles: Michael is the commander in chief, Israel’s guardian (also called the “merciful one”). Raphael is the angel of healing. Uriel is angel of light. Gabriel is the master of courage.

Jerusalem and Bethlehem are about to become cities of Angels. Good news for some. Bad news for others. Things are about to get interesting.

Christians believe, by celebrating Advent each year, that the God who crafted the cosmos also stepped into human skin—baby skin—and lived among us in the fullness of human experience. One friend recently challenged me to think about our planet, solar system, galaxy, and universe. Earth is the third smallest planet in our solar system. Our galaxy, the Milky Way, has 100 billion stars. More recent studies suggest that the number is actually 200-300 billion. The sun is one of the smallest stars in our galaxy—some stars are a thousand times larger than the sun. Some scientists believe that there are over a hundred billion galaxies as big as the Milky Way. There are more stars in the universe than grains of sand on earth. We are small but we are not insignificant. C.S. Lewis says it so powerfully: “The whole thing narrows and narrows, until at last it comes down to a little point, small as the point of a spear—a Jewish girl and her prayers.”

Despite our attempts to tame the story with Hall-mark sentimentality and cookies, the story still stands as one of the most subversive narratives in human history.

On November 22, 1963, a significant loss consumed the American landscape. On that Friday evening, it’s reported by various writers, that David Lodge, a famous British playwright, was watching a local performance of one of his successful works. The audience burst into laughter as one of the main actors showed up for a job interview, as part of the plot, with a portable radio in hand. During the play, the radio streamed live programming. At some point during the play a serious voice interrupted the regular program and play with a bulletin. “We interrupt this program to inform you that today the American president John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas . . .”

In that one moment, the world shattered, things could never be the same. The artificial world of the theater, in the words of Philip Yancey, was exposed.

And so it is with the birth of Jesus. The announcement is made. Simeon is holding the baby.  Like Simeon, once you peer into the face of the holy baby, you start to sing a new song.

Just to make sure no baby was left behind in the larger scheme, Herod had all boys under the age of two murdered. For many mothers, Christmas was not, from their vantage point, good news at all. It was the worst time of their life. One has to wonder if that stayed with some of the mothers throughout Jesus’ lifetime.

As Matthew is retelling the story, I can see him pause, wipe the tear rolling down his face, finding consolation from the words of Jeremiah:  “A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.” N.T. Wright observes that “before the Prince of Peace can walk, he is a homeless refugee, with a price on his head.”

Despot’s die. They always do. Herod’s time is up. Time to meet the Maker. An angel comes to Joseph in a dream (if you are counting this is the fourth dream in this part of the story) and instructs Joseph to come home. Joseph learns that Herod’s son, Archelaus, is now on the throne. Knowing that the apple usually doesn’t fall far from the tree, even in the first century, Joseph knows Jesus’ future is too big to risk. So he takes him to an insignificant town, he goes to Nazareth. The hope of the entire world, will patiently take root in a backwoods town where the people talk with a twang, looked down upon by Rome and their fellow Jews.

I don’t know a whole lot about God. In fact, the older I get the less sure I am about a lot of things and the more sure I am about a few things. I’m sure that pondering the mystery of God visiting planet earth through Nazareth in these particular ways says more about God than all the books that all the theologians have ever written.

The showdown in Matthew between Jesus and Herod won’t be Jesus’ last clash with the powers. The cross looms over the baby’s crib.“The only thing that Herod and Jesus agree upon is that bloodshed fixes everything,” (Bill Hybels). One would spill the blood of innocent babies, family members, spouses, sons, and fellow countrymen. The other was only willing to allow one person to die: himself.

James Francis wrote: “I am far within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, all the navies that were ever built; all the parliaments that ever sat and all the kings that ever reigned, put together, have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as has that one solitary life.”

Remember this showdown story and the profound message of the Magi. Bring the best gifts you can. Get to Jesus by whatever route you must take. But get here. Get to the coronation fast as you can.

After Jesus had already been born, pagan magicians came to one of the most powerful men in the world, Herod the Great (King Herod) and ask “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him,” (Mt. 2:2).

To come to Herod’s palace inquiring as to the whereabouts of the king while in the current king’s presence was either an act of sheer stupidity or remarkable courage. Herod was the meanest man on the block.

1. Herod was the extension of Caesar among the Jewish people in Israel.
2. He died about the same time Jesus was born (perhaps even the same year).
3. Herod was one of the wealthiest men on the planet. He built seven palaces during his lifetime. All of them  larger than the palaces of Caesar in Rome.
4. Herod was the “Pantheon of bigness” (Eugene Peterson)—everything he did was over the top and extravagant.
   • Before he died he had an actual mountain built, from scratch, so that his body would rest in a palace that overlooked Jerusalem. Some believe that when Jesus tells his disciples that small faith can move “this mountain” he is directly referring to Herodium. Herodium is visible from the Mount of Olives.
   • Some scholars believe that Herod tried to rebuild the Temple to demonstrate his superiority over Solomon.
   • Caesarea was Herod’s tribute to Caesar—it boasted the largest harbor in the world (520 acres wide).
   • Herod built stadiums that rival any major college football stadium today. Herod was building NASCAR venues before NASCAR.
5. Herod ruled by instilling fear through violence.
   • He once had the most talented citizens of Jericho assembled into a large stadium with instructions to soldiers that upon his death he wanted all of the innocent slaughtered so that all Israel would mourn Herod’s death.
   • He gave instructions, before embarking upon a long journey, that should he die he desired that his wife be killed lest she ever be with another man.
   • He killed one mother-in-law (ten wives might sound that bad, but ten mothers-in-law), an uncle, and three sons.
   • Caesar Augustus famously remarked, “I’d rather be Herod’s pig than his son.”

Pagan magicians walk into King Herod’s presence and ask, “Where’s the king, we think he’s already among us.” That Herod did not execute them on the spot is a testament to how much more concerned Herod is with the threat that Jesus poses to his rule. A threat most contemporary Christians have never spent a minute mulling over.

“All Jerusalem” is disturbed because Jerusalem is full of mini-Herods; the powerbrokers and    chief players. Herod calls together all of the experts he can summon for a conference call. “I need to know, I must know where the anointed one {“Christ”} was to be born.” The experts give the correct answer, “Bethlehem,” and do the religious thing—they support their answer with a text!

Herod brings back the magicians in secret, presumably because he’s afraid, and attempts to strike an alliance with these outsiders. The irony is thick. The pagan magicians want to worship Jesus. The orthodox Jews and Herod want him eliminated. Herod gives the magicians a game-plan. “Find the baby, let me know, for I too desire to worship.”

I’d love to have been privy to the conversation among the Magi as they left Herod’s palace. Do you think for one minute they were fooled by Herod’s sudden piety? If these men could interpret the stars, I think they could see through a power-hungry despot.

The Magi went on their way, searching for the anointed one. They say the star. Perhaps it was Haley’s comet. Perhaps it was a supernova. Perhaps it was Jupiter and Saturn (two important planets in Roman and Jewish astronomy). In the ancient world, one could not separate creation from humanity. “A remarkable event with the planets meant something remarkable on earth,” (N.T. Wright paraphrase).

The Magi find the young boy. After a long journey, how good they must have felt. The lavished the boy with gifts, they bowed down and paid homage to the one they called king. Having been warned in a dream, they intentionally dismiss Herod’s order and return to their home land via a different route.

The first humans to greet God in the flesh are not Caesars, Kings, or Herods—but magicians.

I’m preparing for a four-week series at Otter Creek called Collision. In this series, we are exploring the way in which Jesus’ birth ushers in a collision between the realm of God (traditionally known as heaven) and the realm of humanity (earth).

In preparing for this first teaching (”Crazy John”) I’ve been doing research into the beliefs surrounding the rulers of the Roman Empire (the super-power of the day which brought about ‘peace’ through war, heavy taxation, and the brutal practice of crucifixion).

Two phrases jump out at me.

1. Son of god/son of a god. Caesar Augusts (Octavian) was often referred to as “son of the Divinized Caesar”—a result of Julius Caesar being considered a “god”.  Coins from this time period bear witness to this truth and served as propaganda/reinforcement.

2. Savior of the World. Here’s an excerpt from the city council of Ephesus in Asia Mnior per Julius Caesar Germanicus from 38 C.E./A.D. (known as emperor Caligula): “ The council and the people (of the Ephesians and other Greek) cities, which dwell in Asia and the nations (acknowledge) Gaius Julius, the son of Gaius Caesar, as High Priest and Absolute Ruler, . . . The God visible who is born of (the Gods) Ares and Aphrodite, the shared Savior of human life.”

Early Christians made audacious claims about Jesus. That he was, somehow, the son of the true God and that he was the savior of the world. It all begins in the birth accounts (Matthew 1-2; Luke 1ff; Revelation 12)–meant to be more than pious hallmark card sentiment layered upon a Christmas tree full of clothes, books, and i-phones. The baby born in the backwoods of of a minority group in the midst of a huge empire–it’s a story you have to choose to believe. And once you do, that’s just the beginning. Because this story dares you to fuse this crazy tale with the world we currently find ourselves.

—
Advent reminds us that when God came among us in Jesus, he did not come as a ghost, hologram, vision, or media stunt. He came to us through a teenage girl not properly married. God came to us, not in the pomp and circumstance of royalty, but in the humility of a working class commoner. Jesus was born to a father who worked tirelessly with his hands and a mother who, most would say, wasn’t fit for the task of raising a child, let alone the child upon whom millions would rest their hopes for salvation.

Yet, in contemporary religious America, Mary is a polarizing figure. For Catholics, she is the essence of what it means to be a disciple. Against all odds, and against her reputation (we have names for children born out of wedlock as well as women who have children out of wedlock) she opens her hands to a God who refuses to force himself on people, and says, “Yes. I am the Lord’s servant, may it be to me as you have said.”

In other circles of Christianity, however, Protestants snicker and scoff at such notions. “They worship Mary. Those people are strange. Why do they spend so much time talking about Mary and not about Jesus?” Part of that observation is fair, but part misses out on what’s really happening in the Jesus Story.

Church tradition teaches us that Mary is the “god-bearer” . . . the theotokos. Mary is literally the one who agrees to bring God into his own world, though it will cost her everything: her fiancé’s trust, her parent’s adoration, and public standing. The story comes to a grand crescendo and for a brief moment pauses, waiting to see what Mary’s answer will be. “You can decide to be a daredevil, a test pilot, a gambler. You can set your book down and listen to a strange creature’s strange idea. You can decide to take part in a plan you did not choose, doing things you do not know how to do for reasons you do not entirely understand. You can take part in a thrilling and dangerous scheme with no script and no guarantees. You can agree to smuggle God into the world inside your own body” (Barbara Brown Taylor in Gospel Medicine, 153). This is the meaning of theotokos. Mary is courageous enough to smuggle (tokos) God (theo) into our world.

Even in our modern, technology-driven world, risk-takers are needed. Moms who take great risks for their children. Moms who risk societal shame for the sake of their children’s spirituality. Moms willing to go to great lengths to make sure their children know that it is God— not Caesar, the U.N., the President—who rules our world and invites us into relationship with him.

When mothers commit to this story, the outcomes are unpredictable. Mary could not have known how her son would alter the course of human history. She could not have possibly been able to gage the effect that her spirituality would have on Jesus— the single greatest influencer of spirituality, politics, and man’s search for meaning and for God himself.

I’ve often wondered about the relationship of Jesus’ development to his own parents. We know that Joseph moves to the backstage in Luke and Matthew’s account. Some church historians believe that Joseph died not long after Jesus became an adult. Mary, however, is in the story from beginning to end. One of her other sons, James, would become a pillar of the Jerusalem church, writing a letter we now have in our New Testament.

If you look twice at Mary’s story, you don’t see a statue planted on someone’s front yard or tucked away in a church sanctuary. Here’s what you see: A young mother, a mere teenager, hovering over her first born. Her other children would come quite normally (thank God!) but her firstborn is different. Angels, visions, visitors all point out that this boy is God’s agent of liberation. If you look close enough you can hear Mary singing over her sleeping child. Joseph is in bed, and she slips into Jesus’ room to remind him who he is, where he comes from. She begins to sing the same song God placed in her heart a few years prior. “My soul magnifies the Lord . . . His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty,” (Lk. 1).

When we say “yes” to God, he always answers with a resounding and eternal “Yes!” God’s yes to Mary is good news. God takes the messy, mixed, complicated, deep, and true spirituality of Mary and blesses the entire world.

Yet, in contemporary religious America, Mary is a polarizing figure. For Catholics, she is the essence of what it means to be a disciple. Against all odds, and against her reputation (we have names for children born out of wedlock as well as women who have children out of wedlock) she opens her hands to a God who refuses to force himself on people, and says, “Yes. I am the Lord’s servant, may it be to me as you have said.”

In other circles of Christianity, however, Protestants snicker and scoff at such notions. “They worship Mary. Those people are strange. Why do they spend so much time talking about Mary and not about Jesus?” Part of that observation is fair, but part misses out on what’s really happening in the Jesus Story.

Church tradition teaches us that Mary is the “god-bearer” . . . the theotokos. Mary is literally the one who agrees to bring God into his own world, though it will cost her everything: her fiancé’s trust, her parent’s adoration, and public standing. The story comes to a grand crescendo and for a brief moment pauses, waiting to see what Mary’s answer will be. “You can decide to be a daredevil, a test pilot, a gambler. You can set your book down and listen to a strange creature’s strange idea. You can decide to take part in a plan you did not choose, doing things you do not know how to do for reasons you do not entirely understand. You can take part in a thrilling and dangerous scheme with no script and no guarantees. You can agree to smuggle God into the world inside your own body” (Barbara Brown Taylor in Gospel Medicine, 153). This is the meaning of theotokos. Mary is courageous enough to smuggle (tokos) God (theo) into our world.

Even in our modern, technology-driven world, risk-takers are needed. Moms who take great risks for their children. Moms who risk societal shame for the sake of their children’s spirituality. Moms willing to go to great lengths to make sure their children know that it is God— not Caesar, the U.N., the President—who rules our world and invites us into relationship with him.

When mothers commit to this story, the outcomes are unpredictable. Mary could not have known how her son would alter the course of human history. She could not have possibly been able to gage the effect that her spirituality would have on Jesus— the single greatest influencer of spirituality, politics, and man’s search for meaning and for God himself.

I’ve often wondered about the relationship of Jesus’ development to his own parents. We know that Joseph moves to the backstage in Luke and Matthew’s account. Some church historians believe that Joseph died not long after Jesus became an adult. Mary, however, is in the story from beginning to end. One of her other sons, James, would become a pillar of the Jerusalem church, writing a letter we now have in our New Testament.

If you look twice at Mary’s story, you don’t see a statue planted on someone’s front yard or tucked away in a church sanctuary. Here’s what you see: A young mother, a mere teenager, hovering over her first born. Her other children would come quite normally (thank God!) but her firstborn is different. Angels, visions, visitors all point out that this boy is God’s agent of liberation. If you look close enough you can hear Mary singing over her sleeping child. Joseph is in bed, and she slips into Jesus’ room to remind him who he is, where he comes from. She begins to sing the same song God placed in her heart a few years prior. “My soul magnifies the Lord . . . His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. ⁵¹He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. ⁵²He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; ⁵³he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty,” (Lk. 1).

When we say “yes” to God, he always answers with a resounding and eternal “Yes!” God’s yes to Mary is good news. God takes the messy, mixed, complicated, deep, and true spirituality of Mary and blesses the entire world.