Downhill Journeys

“And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no place in the guest room.”

Wednesday was my fortieth birthday. I began that infamous downhill journey on the very day Christians are reminded of our mortality. As an Anglican priest, it felt strangely fitting. And yet, even I begin to recoil at the collision of Ash Wednesday with celebratory events. The Church herself has traditionally avoided baptisms and weddings during Lent.

So, why read this Lukan birth narrative on the first Sunday of the season when the lectionary psalm, Psalm 51, reminds us that we were brought forth in wickedness and that our mothers conceived us in sin?

First, we importantly acknowledge that Jesus’s origins have no part with sin or wickedness. His entry into this world involved great feats of utter faithfulness—beautiful, godly obedience—most strikingly in Mary and also clearly present in Joseph’s story.

But even more than this, we must recognize that God’s goodness is always surprising, not arising from the palaces of power named in this passage. It appears in the hinterlands, to parents whose circumstances invite suspicion, and whose means were meager. This story stretches our imaginations to recognize the radical activity of God—revealed best in hidden places, like the punchline to a perfect joke.

This is a biblical pattern. God’s people, and even outsiders, constantly encounter blessing in unlikely places. In Jonah, a fish-vomited prophet announces doom to Nineveh, and the hearers cover themselves in ashes, repent, and come to know a God of mercy they could have met no other way.

We, like Jonah, often resist the joke rather than risk the radical belief. We abhor lowliness. Perhaps the leviathan’s belly wasn’t low enough for Jonah. Scandalously, the Bethlehem stable, low as it is, will not be low enough for Jesus!

Christmas hymns which celebrate Jesus’s birth cannot be discarded, but ultimately Christians are an Easter people, and Alleluia is our song. Let us therefore continue this Lenten journey and risk the belief that nothing not born in the ash will last.

Seek out surprises, especially on your life’s downhill journeys to the lowly places. For truly that is where Emmanuel dwells.

Lord, remind us today that you are often at work in surprising places. Give us eyes to see you and the courage to join you in your work. Amen.

FR. MATTHEW AUGHTRY
Acting Director of the Anglican Episcopal House of Studies
Truett Seminary