Matthew 2: 2 - 12 After Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the time of King Herod, Magi[a] from the east came to Jerusalem and asked, “Where is the one who has been born king of the Jews? We saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him.” When King Herod heard this he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. When he had called together all the people’s chief priests and teachers of the law, he asked them where the Messiah was to be born. “In Bethlehem in Judea,” they replied, “for this is what the prophet has written:
“‘But you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for out of you will come a ruler
who will shepherd my people Israel.’”
Then Herod called the Magi secretly and found out from them the exact time the star had appeared. He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search carefully for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him.” After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route.
Epiphanies Still Come
Matthew’s recounting of the visit of the magi – often called kings or “wise men”- inspires wonder… and questions. Who were those strange visitors from the East?
One of my favorite theologians, Mark Allen Powell, explores this scripture text and makes a couple of observations: There are two very different kings in the story. King Herod who claimed power and might and Jesus, who had come into the world as a poor, vulnerable baby.
The Magi, Powell asserts, aren’t kings. The Magi were travelers, seekers. They may have been Zoroastrian priests or astronomers or astrologers. Clearly, they knew about the stars, but they weren’t independently wise. Instead, they were dependent upon others for information. They went to the king for directions (clearly not a wise thing to do). The “wise men” were King Herod’s advisers, the chief priests and teachers of the law. They knew their tradition: the Messiah, the King, would be born in Bethlehem. They - the chief priests and lawyers-- had knowledge. They could point the Magi in the right direction. But they didn’t have eyes to see.
The Magi didn’t see at first either. But once they left the lights of Jerusalem, the star again led them, this time right to the Christ child. Suddenly the Magi understood. It was an “epiphany.” An Epiphany is a sudden revelation, an “ah ha” moment, a manifestation of the divine.
In response, the Magi knelt. They paid homage. They gave their gifts. And, when they saw Jesus - they were filled with joy.
The light has come into the world. But not everyone has eyes to see it. Often, in the Gospel stories, like the story of the visit of the Magi, star gazing foreigners, God’s light is revealed to the stranger, the outsider, the unexpected. The “wise” and learned advisers to King Herod couldn’t see it. King Herod – despite his power – or maybe because of it – was filled with anxiety and fear instead of joy.
Epiphanies – aha moments -- still come. These are moments in which the light of God’s love, the light of Christ is revealed to us….
A few years ago, my family and I were travelers, seeking the light. Specifically, we were seeking a spot to watch the solar eclipse. We were a little late in our planning, so as I called hotel after hotel, we discovered that there was … “no room at the inn”. Some cities and towns were so afraid of being overrun with solar eclipse fans that they had put out warnings that cars would be ticketed and towed if they stopped. Others were afraid of gas shortages. But finally, we found a little town that said, “Welcome! Come!” Of course, all the nearby campgrounds and hotels were full and the closest hotel room was several hours away. But we made an over-priced reservation and got up in the dark early hours of the morning to drive to the little town. Our car joined a few others as we traveled with our headlights breaking the darkness like pilgrims carrying candles down a deep, dark canyon road.
We parked on the dried-up grass near the town’s park and set out our travel chairs. Soon others joined us. An older couple with a little boy, clearly the grandson, parked next to us. He was overly excited and full of questions. The grandfather patiently and quietly answered every one.
And people kept coming. They would drive in – in all sorts of vehicles and unload chairs or put down their tailgate. But then… I noticed, after people got set up, they began greeting one another, “Hey, where are you from?” Have you ever seen an eclipse before? No one asked about another’s job or status – whether they were conservative or liberal. Suddenly we were all part of one community. As the sky began to turn into a 365 degree sunset and the air began to cool, people stopped talking and just looked up. And as the eclipse happened… there was a moment of silence and then… JOY! Cheers! Amazement as the corona danced around the edge of the moon.
The light has come into the world. We were in amazement… and all we had to do, to see it, was to look up. It was an Epiphany.
It is all too easy on these dark cold days of winter, to look down instead of up and to be filled with anxiety, fear, and sadness – instead of joy and amazement. Our country is divided over many issues and new worries keep arising. Over the last few days, as I’ve been listening to the news, I’ve been worried about what would happen in the Middle East. When would the saber rattling and the revenge killings stop? Will we be at war?
It’s easy to get anxious. But maybe we can take a lesson from the Magi. It wasn’t a time of peace then either. It was dangerous to travel, to be a foreigner. And yet… they came – not to conquer another people or advance their own agenda. But, instead, they brought gifts to share. They took a risk and simply followed the star, not knowing where it would lead.
Again, Epiphanies – aha moments--- still come. The light of God’s love, the light of Christ continues to be revealed to us. Jesus comes in ways that He has promised to come and be with us: In water and the Word, and in bread and wine. But that is not all. The light of Christ is revealed to us in the wonder of the world around us… and in the knowledge that God often uses the least likely people to do God’s work, to be God’s voice, and to walk in God’s light…
So now the question is this: Remembering that God uses the least likely people, what would you bring to the manger? Maybe you will pray for a child through our cherish all children program; maybe you will shovel the walk for your neighbor or maybe you will bake cookies and visit a shut-in or maybe you will make a financial donation – and put your financial resources to work helping someone. All of these gifts are welcomed by the Christ Child. But maybe… today you worry that you have nothing to offer… and so today you put in the basket your self – your broken heart, your worries and your cares. Christ welcomes your gift too. Whatever it is today, Christ blesses and then mends and molds each gift to provide light and love to the world.
Let me leave you with the poetry of a writer, Katie Cook:
Let us go in peace now;
We have brought our gifts to the manger—
and for some of us
it was merely our broken selves—
but now, like the shepherds,
we must go back to our fields;
like the magi,
we must go home another way.
Let us go in peace now;
May this Holy Child guide our steps
into the new year