The Births of Two Babies
Angels and Anguish in Luke and Job
Jesus and Job are born in our readings for today. Kind of.
Jesus is indeed born. You know the story well - we’re less than two months removed from reading it at Christmas. As you read it today, though, perhaps it can take on different meaning with new insights. Most often, the birth of a baby is a time for joy and expectation. Especially centuries ago, before modern medicine, when child-bearing was even more of a threat to the mother and baby’s life than it is today, when a child was carried full-term and born safely, it was an amazing thing. (Still is, actually.)
So Jesus’ birth, even before the centrality of his being the Savior of the world, reads as a time of celebration.
On the flip side, Job wishes he was never born. And for this full chapter, he laments both his conception and the day of his birth nine months later. There are some tough words here. They reemphasize just how deep and painful Job’s situation is. The loss of family and wealth is one thing, but his sickness is a whole other thing. Perhaps you’ve been in places of unhealth in which you’ve longed for something much, much different.
One birth brings rejoicing. One birth is regretted. Both are in our scripture. Perhaps that is enough for today.
Luke 2:1-20
In those days Caesar Augustus declared that everyone throughout the empire should be enrolled in the tax lists. This first enrollment occurred when Quirinius governed Syria. Everyone went to their own cities to be enrolled. Since Joseph belonged to David’s house and family line, he went up from the city of Nazareth in Galilee to David’s city, called Bethlehem, in Judea. He went to be enrolled together with Mary, who was promised to him in marriage and who was pregnant. While they were there, the time came for Mary to have her baby. She gave birth to her firstborn child, a son, wrapped him snugly, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the guestroom.
Nearby shepherds were living in the fields, guarding their sheep at night. The Lord’s angel stood before them, the Lord’s glory shone around them, and they were terrified.
The angel said, “Don’t be afraid! Look! I bring good news to you—wonderful, joyous news for all people. Your savior is born today in David’s city. He is Christ the Lord. This is a sign for you: you will find a newborn baby wrapped snugly and lying in a manger.” Suddenly a great assembly of the heavenly forces was with the angel praising God. They said, “Glory to God in heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.”
When the angels returned to heaven, the shepherds said to each other, “Let’s go right now to Bethlehem and see what’s happened. Let’s confirm what the Lord has revealed to us.” They went quickly and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in the manger. When they saw this, they reported what they had been told about this child. Everyone who heard it was amazed at what the shepherds told them. Mary committed these things to memory and considered them carefully. The shepherds returned home, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen. Everything happened just as they had been told.
Job 3
Afterward, Job spoke up and cursed the day he was born.
Job said:
Perish the day I was born, the night someone said,
“A boy has been conceived.”
That day—let it be darkness; may God above ignore it,
and light not shine on it.
May deepest darkness claim it and a cloud linger over it;
may all that darkens the day terrify it.
May gloom seize that night; may it not be counted in the days of a year;
may it not appear in the months.
May that night be childless; may no happy singing come in it.
May those who curse the day curse it,
those with enough skill to awaken Leviathan.
May its evening stars stay dark; may it wait in vain for light;
may it not see dawn’s gleam,
because it didn’t close the doors of my mother’s womb,
didn’t hide trouble from my eyes.
Why didn’t I die at birth, come forth from the womb and die?
Why did knees receive me and breasts let me nurse?
For now I would be lying down quietly;
I’d sleep; rest would be mine with kings and earth’s advisors,
who rebuild ruins for themselves, or with princes who have gold,
who fill their houses with silver.
Or why wasn’t I like a buried miscarried infant,
like babies who never see light?
There the wicked rage no more; there the weak rest.
Prisoners are entirely at ease; they don’t hear a boss’s voice.
Both small and great are there; a servant is free from his masters.
Why is light given to the hard worker, life to those bitter of soul,
those waiting in vain for death, who search for it more than for treasure,
who rejoice excitedly, who are thrilled when they find a grave?
Why is light given to the person whose way is hidden,
whom God has fenced in?
My groans become my bread; my roars pour out like water.
Because I was afraid of something awful, and it arrived;
what I dreaded came to me.
I had no ease, quiet, or rest, and trembling came.
Prayer
God,
Thank you for life. What occurs in the space of life is a beautiful thing. As I sit here watching a blizzard swirl outside my window, I just can’t get over these silly birds flying through the air, thrown this way or that before they get to their branch of a destination. How do they do it? How do they survive? A human, without the development of technology that we have of clothing and shelter, wouldn’t survive an hour in this.
I want to receive this an an encouragement and challenge today. Lord, during this season of Lent, help me to draw nearer to what you provide. Help me to trust well beyond the things I’ve stored up for myself. In some ways, life is pressing that lesson on me right now. But even beyond circumstances, I just want to trust in you and the steady simplicity of your Kingdom and Creation.
By your Spirit & in Christ,
Amen.