Matthew
2:1-11
Epiphany: January 5, 2013
The magi are quirky little characters
in Matthew’s gospel. Here we have what
was likely a group of Zoroastrian priests intruding on the story of Jesus’
birth and early years. Only Matthew
tells this story of the magi, and he gives the very first words to them – they
are the first to speak in his gospel.
Only Matthew has a star appear in the sky leading these people to the
Christ child. What are they doing
there?
I can think of a number of
reasons. But the one I want to suggest
today is that they provide us with a model for the faith journey. I think we might learn something from the
magi. I think they might represent how
each of us can come to encounter God in Jesus.
And I think it’s good news.
Let’s start with the fact that these
magi were not doing anything out of the ordinary when they set off to find
Jesus. They were not just priests, they
were astrologers. Figuring out, from a
star in the sky, that a new king had been born countries away seems out of the
realm of possibility to us, but interpreting stars was their job…it was what
they did, what people expected of them.
And at that time it wasn’t incredible for them to know such things just
by looking at the night sky. So their
journey to Jesus began with them doing what they had always done.
Next, we learn that they screwed up
on the way. We often call these people
wise ones. But I’m not so sure they were
so wise. They walked into Jerusalem, the
seat of Herod’s power – Herod, king of the Jews – and started asking around
about where the new king of the Jews
was. Either they knew nothing of Herod’s
ruthless rule, willing to kill anyone claiming his title, or they didn’t
care. I suspect it is the first. They were just sort of clueless bulls in a
china shop.
Their actions set in motion a
deadly game that would continue for all of Jesus’ life until he was, indeed,
killed for claiming to be King of the Jews.
Regardless, the star led them on to
Bethlehem, and when the star stopped over Jesus’ house, they rejoiced, then
they went in. They came right to Jesus’
side to worship him. They brought gifts
– the gifts of their world – and knelt down and worshipped him. In other words, they came in great
humility.
Yet I would contend they never
really fully understood who this child was.
They called him king of the Jews.
For them, kings were simply rightful heirs to the throne. They had no reason to think of Jesus as a
messiah – only Herod calls him that. I
suspect they didn’t quite get it.
But here’s the thing: in the end,
even though they weren’t Jewish and even though they bumbled their way to Bethlehem,
and even though they might not have completely understood who Jesus was, at the
end of the story we’re told, “They left for their own country by a different
road.”
You see, they were changed by their
journey – by their encounter with Jesus.
The statement that they used a different road is actually quite a
powerful one. The Greek word for road can also be translated
“way.” The early Christians were called
people of “The Way.” The astrologers may
not have fully understood what happened, but their lives were wedded to the way
of Jesus from the moment they met him.
What about us? How do we get here? How do we come to meet God – to meet God in
Jesus?
Well, first, we don’t have to be
anything special before showing up here.
We don’t have to be anything other than ourselves. It doesn’t matter what we do for a living, where
we live, wealthy or not, abled or disabled.
We don’t have to be doing anything special for the spirit to move us
here. However that happens:
Maybe you have had some equivalent
of a star guiding you here. Maybe you
are here because you have always been here.
Maybe you are here because you yearn for community. Maybe you are drawn to the stories of the
scriptures. Maybe you come so your kids
will have connection to a church. Maybe
you come because when you are here you experience something transcendent. Maybe you’re here for the music. Maybe you’re only here because you think you
are supposed to be. Whatever has
compelled you here, I believe that is of God.
It doesn’t matter how we got here or why we came.
It also doesn’t matter what we’ve
done along the way – no matter how serious. Regardless of what we’ve done, the journey
continues. We are not forbidden to come
here, even if we have messed up in the worst ways possible. The star still led the magi to Jesus – and
they had just endangered Jesus’ life.
Finally, it doesn’t matter if you
understand everything – if you know for sure Jesus is God, or Jesus is the
Christ, or Jesus is the King of the Jews.
It doesn’t matter if you have it all figured out, either when you come
or when you leave. The encounter is what
matters, not the doctrine.
It doesn’t matter how you got here,
why you came, or what you’ve done along the way. And it doesn’t matter if you understand
everything when you’re here.
Somehow, in the midst of everything,
we got here, and somehow, regardless of our past, …we can meet Jesus and be
changed by him.
Today, like we do every first
Sunday of the month, we will take communion.
The table is one of our versions of the house in Bethlehem. Jesus is no longer a toddler to us, but we do
say that in communion Christ is present at this table. The Messiah is here. We come and we meet him – in worship, in
communion, in music, in the Word. And we
can be changed by that.
When the magi arrived at the house,
they were joyful, they brought who they were and offered it to God, and they
were humble. This is not a bad way to
approach the table. Joyful that we are
welcome no matter what, vulnerable as we come just as we are…no masks, no
pretenses, no effort to conform to what we think we should do, just coming with
what he have and who we are. And
finally, it doesn’t hurt to be humble. I
don’t think we need to get down on both knees and bow before God as we would a
king – though that might not hurt. But
allowing ourselves to be open to the power and movement of God sometimes takes
setting aside our egos, our assumptions, our expectations, and allowing for
something new to capture and change us.
Too often it seems that our
churches are set up so that people believe you have to be Christian before you
come. We’re established, obviously Christian,
steeped in the traditions of Christianity.
I think sometimes people look at that and wonder if they can come even
if they are not Christian. Worse, people
think, if they don’t come as Christians, they have to leave that way. They think church is where conversion
happens.
The astrologers were astrologers
when they came, and astrologers when they left.
They were no more Jewish than when they arrived. They received a dream to move them on their
way, which is what they knew – they knew how to interpret dreams. God used who they were – and they weren’t
Jewish when they came, they weren’t Jewish when they left, but they did choose
a new way because of their encounter in that house.
It doesn’t matter how you got here. It doesn’t matter what you might have done
along the way. Communion is here for
all. The possibility of connecting our
lives with the way of Jesus is here for us all.
You don’t have to be Christian to show up, you don’t have to be
Christian when you come to the table, and you don’t have to be Christian when
you leave. It’s not about being
converted, it’s about being changed. You
don’t have to believe the right things – have the right doctrine. You just have to trust the encounter and let
that shape who you are.
Today, as we come humbly to this
table, let’s rejoice in that good news.
We can come just as we are – our neighbors can come just as they are –
our enemies can come just as they are.
And if we do – if we come to this table…if we come to a sanctuary…if we
find some way to encounter God here…we might be changed when we leave. We will return to our lives, but as changed
people. We will see things a little
differently. We will do things a little
differently. We will love people a
little more.
Francis Spufford wrote a book in
which, among other things, he talks about the universality of humans messing
up. He calls us the international league
of the guilty. He says admitting to our
own mistakes, our own selfishness, our own shadows is the first step in meeting
God. And then he goes on to write about
church – what church means to him.
“Fortunately,” he writes, “the
international league of the guilty has littered the landscape with specialized
buildings where attention comes easier.
I walk in. I glance around. And I see the objects that different ages
carried in here because they thought they were precious…not in order to
declare, those past people, that this was a place where only a precious and
tasteful selection from human behavior was welcome, but the opposite, to
celebrate with the best things they had the way the place acknowledged
absolutely all of human behavior. …To
any conceivable act you might have committed, the building is set up only to
say, ah, so you have, so you did; yes.
Would you like to sit down?”
The magi brought the best things
they had to acknowledge the beauty of the place they came to and the welcome
they would receive. We come here and it
is full of precious things people placed here:
The cross; the stained glass; the table; the font. All are testaments to people who came to this
place and found something so powerful they were changed by it.
We continue to bring our offerings
of banners, paraments, money, time and energy.
And each time it is because we have found something here. It’s not because we have figured it all
out. It’s most definitely not because we’re
perfect. It’s because in this place,
that accepts all of the international league of the guilty, is somewhere we
have found a taste of God.
I’m so glad that the journey never
ends. We get to come time and time again
to this place – to this table. We don’t
have to arrive at a belief, we just come to see if we can find the one we have
heard about so often. The one born a
king. The one born to be followed. The one born to show us how to love, live,
heal, and die. We come: it doesn’t
matter from where, or why, or what happened on the way. We come to meet the Christ and be sent home
changed people. Amen.
