Odds are you know the story. The angel. The young woman. Her betrothed. The miraculous baby. Another angel and then many more. The shepherds. We hear the story every year. We sing the songs. I admit that sometimes, if I am not careful, the entire Christmas season can go right past me.

And yet...

Do not be afraid; for see I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the City of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth in lying in a manger....Glory to God in highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom He favors!"

The gospel text is kind of awkward and uncomfortable this week. Joseph is thinking about leaving Mary. The idea of marrying her and raising a child that is not his own is more than he think he can handle. Understandably he doesn't buy her story about being impregnated by the Holy Spirit. Matthew tries to give him a bit of a pass. He's going to separate from her quietly. But people are still going to know. Sure, he's not dragging her into the town square to be stoned to death, but he is still planning on leaving her.

Maybe he's hurt. Maybe he's heartbroken. Maybe he's a coward. I don't really know. Each time I read this passage, I feel differently about Joseph. I feel sympathy for him. I want him to man up. All I know is that God rescues him from the eyes of history via a dream. Joseph stays with Mary and sits across from her in a million manger scenes two thousand years later. Did Mary know he was going to leave? Did that road nearly taken haunt him? It's a thorny passage with which to grapple on Christmas' doorstep.

"Are you the one?"

That question in itself was a bit awkward. John the Baptist and Jesus had history. They were cousins. John had baptized Jesus. In Matthew's account, there was even an exchange where the baptizer balked at immersing his relative from Nazareth. If anyone was to be baptizing the other, John reasoned, it should be Jesus. And then there was the language John used in the wilderness. He baptized with water, but the one coming after him would baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. John clearly saw himself as a prelude.

"So are you the one? How do we know?"

The answer seems crystal clear. But it only seems obvious after the fact. What exactly was the Messiah supposed to do? Jesus was special, but was he the special one? Is this what John had been waiting for or should he continue to preach of that one still to arrive? After the fact, people read that question as a declaration of doubt. Yet it was a good question. It was awkward, but it was a question that needed to be asked.

In Sunday school this morning, I made an offhand comment that these pictures would be like a baby riding a Tyrannosaurus Rex. That picture makes me smile. So let me humbly and simply continue in that vein.

The mongoose shall hang out with the cobra, cats and dogs shall live together, the angry raccoon shall look out for the Baby Groot, the Koopa Troopa and the plumber shall race together, the Pawneean and Eagletonian shall unite, the cyborg shall cancel the robot uprising, the shark shall decide that fish are friends and not food, and a baby shall ride a T-Rex.

Isaiah 2:1-5 reads like hope. All nations gather to walk in God's ways of love and justice. Weapons are turned into tools for farming and cultivating the earth. War is no longer taught. The image is beautiful. This is what Advent is about: looking forward to when God will make all things right.

Rewind just a few verses and one sees that Isaiah's vision is born in a time where the opposite is true. The prophet (problematically) calls the city a whore. He states that, once a home of justice and righteousness, it is now a community filled murderers. Everyone is looking to make that extra buck. The orphans are abandoned. The widows are ignored. Everything is broken.