A look at the gaps in the lectionary.
This week: the gap between Christmas and Epiphany
The text: varies
The Christmas season offers a collection of stories that remain pretty stable from year-to-year. Most famous is the account of the birth we hear on Christmas Eve from Luke 2 and, to a lesser extent, the introduction to John.
We may also hear bits about the birth account from Matthew and the visit by the Wise Men, the flight into Egypt, or Jesus’s pre-teen visit to the Temple.
These stories, told out of sequence, context, or without embodied interest make for strange interludes into the Christmas season for most Christians, I bet. At least they don’t seem to match the pastoral image we have from Charlie Brown and Christmas movies.
Tradition, however, recognizes the depth of the Incarnation and the impact of the story on followers of Christ—that it isn’t only a feel-good story of promised hope, but that this hope resides in a world that isn’t right. For Jesus to be the light of the world, we must recognize the world’s darkness.
This is what the church does by offering a trio of lesser feasts immediately after Christmas Day. We remember Stephen, the first deacon and martyr on December 26, John on December 27, and Holy Innocents on December 28—a triduum of reflection on the world and our call to service in it.
Most important of it all, perhaps, is the vision offered in the gospel of Matthew: of a baby born, visited by spiritualists from the East who seek him out, assuming he will be revered rather than condemned, who blab about his existence to a jealous king who commits genocide to maintain power. And of a father, who is told by an angel to flee to Egypt of all places, the land from which the Hebrew people were rescued and told to never return there. That is were they seek refuge, to live as refugees—where the baby Messiah is protected from the murderous intentions of their people’s king.
There is so much in this story we choose to ignore—refuse to inhabit and learn from—that it remains transgressive now as ever.
We now return to Luke.
Almost from the future, we return to John the Baptist again, whom we read about for two weeks in Advent, who came to prepare the way for the Messiah, who preached of repentance and good news to the poor. This prophet, baptizing in the wilderness, makes his return appearance. And it is here that we will learn of Jesus’s baptism.
This comes after the birth, of course, but it echoes to us from before the birth, when we engaged it, out of sequence, but in our sequence of preparation. His message of what the Messiah will do is a message for all time, yes. And a message that reminds us of our own anticipation, our own waiting for his coming to us.
These other stories inform us, too, however. And I would argue, more significantly. They remind us of the stakes; of the darkness we too easily inhabit, the shadows we have allowed our eyes to adjust to.