Preacher: The Very Rev’d Frank Nelson, Dean

“The God of Israel is a God of shimmering surprises, of outlandish innovation and renewal.” So begins one commentator’s words on Micah 5: 2. (Texts for Preaching, Year C: Cousar, Gaventa, McCann & Newsome)

I struggled to read on, captivated by the idea of ‘a God of shimmering surprises, of outlandish innovation and renewal’. Whatever does it mean? I have heard and read Micah 5: 2 and the verses following a thousand times. Everyone knows it is a prophecy about the birth of Jesus. It is read at carol services and Christmas midnight masses. It has been read in this Cathedral by countless people of all ages. A God of shimmering surprises, of outlandish innovation and renewal.

What does the text say? “But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from ancient days.” (Micah 5: 2) Let’s start at the beginning of the chapter, a verse earlier. “Now you are walled around with a wall; siege is against us; with a rod they strike the ruler of Israel upon the cheek.” That sounds like a city under threat, a ruler, or king, on the losing side. Where and who could it be? Check back a little further and discover it is Jerusalem – we should not be surprised. But which king – and which particular siege? What, if anything, do we know about Micah?

Micah of Moreshesh was not an important person from an important place. Moreshesh was like Elizabeth to the City of Adelaide (with the greatest respect and apologies to those from Elizabeth); Micah was a nobody, definitely not one who went to the right school, or ever wore a suit – one of the common people. As so often happens, it is the common people who can see beyond the clever talk to what is really happening. Despite the relatively peaceful and prosperous half-century in the 8^th century BC, the writing was on the wall for the northern Kingdom of Israel, and Jerusalem, capital of the southern Kingdom of Judah, came perilously close to being captured and destroyed by the Assyrians under Sennacharib in 701 BC. You may remember the opening lines of Lord Byron’s poem:

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

Micah puts the misfortunes of Israel and Judah, and particularly Jerusalem, down to the corruption and pretension of the rulers of the holy city. On that occasion Jerusalem was spared as, according to the biblical account, 185,000 Assyrians were struck down suddenly and mysteriously. You can read the story in 2 Kings 18 & 19.

As an aside Byron’s poem was caricatured by the English satirical magazine Punch when, in 1878, the first Australian cricket team to tour England beat a strong English team, which included the legendary batsman W G Grace at Lord’s.

The Australians came down like a wolf on the fold,

The Marylebone cracks for a trifle were bowled;
Our Grace before dinner was very soon done,

And Grace after dinner did not get a run

Little more than a hundred years later Jerusalem was not so fortunate. Poor political alliances saw Jerusalem attacked not once, but twice by the armies of the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar. On the second occasion the king of Jerusalem, Zedekiah, had to witness his sons being killed before having his eyes put out and being carted off into captivity. (2 Kings 25: 6 – 7). Several hundred years later Jerusalem was again humiliated by the powerful Seleucid armies; and at the time of Jesus’s birth, Jerusalem was under Roman rule. The debate continues among scholars as to which particular disaster is referred to in Micah 5: 1, but in some ways it doesn’t matter. Micah understood the fate of his capital city to be down to the corruption and pretension of the rulers of the holy city.

It is in this context of impending or actual disaster that the prophet speaks the opening line of today’s first reading.

“But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from ancient days.” (Micah 5: 2)

This is the shimmering surprise of God, coming with outlandish innovation and renewal. When there appeared to be no hope there is a prophecy of a new king, one with deep roots in history. Few would fail to remember that the great King David came from Bethlehem, himself the unexpected youngest son. Micah rekindles the memory (perhaps with a little airbrushing) of the glorious days under David – a united kingdom, free from the civil wars that had for so long plagued the people of Israel, a time of peace and prosperity.

Was this simply a dream, a beautiful dream of longing and wishful thinking, that was inserted into the writings of Micah, perhaps some time after the Exile in Babylon? We don’t know. We do know that Micah became, and continues, to be mined by Christians as they searched for God’s word in the Old Testament. Not only do we have today’s familiar passage from Micah 5, but many will know the words of Micah 6: 8. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.” And of course those beautiful words often used on ANZAC Day and similar occasions, from Micah 4. “In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established … they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks … they shall all sit under their own vines and under their own fig trees, and no one shall make them afraid…” (Micah 4: 1 – 4 and following)

The promise of Micah never did get fulfilled. His was indeed nothing more than a glorious pipe dream, an inspirational one, one that gave hope to desperate people, but a pipe dream nonetheless. Until, that is, a young woman gave birth to a son in Bethlehem and came, not into a literal besieged city, but into the besieged city of the human heart. Jesus, son of Mary the one called Blessed, strode into the hearts of men and women, preceded by John the Baptist and his call for repentance. Jesus, whose mother sang an equally inspiring song following her visit to her cousin Elizabeth and all that happened in today’s Gospel reading. (Luke 1: 39 – 45) We still sing that song, we sang (said) it this morning. We sing it every Sunday night – the Magnificat, the Song of Mary. It is a song that tells of the majesty of God, and God’s particular concern for justice, fairness and the raising up of the oppressed and down-trodden. It is a song of God’s fulfilment of God’s promises. It is the first of four great songs found only in Luke’s Gospel and still sung regularly in our churches and cathedrals.

Surely only a God of shimmering surprises could come up with the outlandish idea of taking a young girl, unknown but for the visit of an angel, and offer renewal through the radical step of sending God’s son – to be born in a stable, call together a group of most unlikely bed-fellows to accompany him on an unplanned and seemingly pointless journey, and then end up on a cross. It is this God, this child, this mother, that the world prepares to remember and celebrate on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.

One of the best-known carols finds its origin in Micah 5: 2. “O little town of Bethlehem” invites us to ponder again the mystery of Christmas as silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given.

“O come to us, abide with us, our Lord Emmanuel.”