A God they did not know [Christmas 2B]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Matthew 2:1-12
A God they did not know
This is a difficult Sunday for me
to preach. Because, while I wrote a
sermon and I am going to preach it, all I want to do is stand up here and read
T.S. Eliot's poem, Journey of the Magi, and
sit down. Because I love that poem and I
think it captures the bruised heart of this story of these wise men with such
beautiful depth. And maybe you have
never heard it and I think you should.
And if you have heard it before, why not hear it again? It is the seasonally appropriate time to once
again consider Eliot's poignant meditation.
But alas, rather than Eliot you get
me. And that will have to do because I
am here and he is not...living. I am the
one who preaches from this pulpit.
Perhaps one of the reasons you are here today is to hear me talk about
this passage from the Gospel according to Matthew. Maybe through this sermon, these eloquent
words and profound insights, or whatever, the Holy Spirit might just bring you
closer to Jesus.
And if not the sermon, maybe the
Gospel lesson, or the other Scripture readings, or the Holy Eucharist, I mean,
of course the Holy Eucharist. Or maybe
the hymns, the music, or the prayers, or the announcements – well probably not
the announcements. But whatever the
reasons, you came here because something here, at church, during Sunday
worship, promises to bring you closer to Jesus.
This is where we expect to find God. Christians know where Jesus is; he
is in church. And so we come here to
experience Jesus.
The Magi, the wise men, however,
did not look for Jesus in a Church, or a synagogue. They looked up at the sky. They did not listen for a sermon or rely on
well-ordered liturgy, they followed a star.
They did not know where to go or even for what they were looking. They just started traveling.
They weren't even Jewish. They came to Herod, the one with the title
“King of the Jews” and asked, “Where is the child who has been born king of the
Jews.” And they weren't even
Jewish. Many scholars think they were
Zoroastrian priests, who specialized in the science of stars. It is a strange scene to imagine, actually:
Persian priests, after a long journey, stopping at the home of the local
sovereign to ask for directions. But not
just any directions – basically what they say to Herod is: “We came into town
to worship the child who will eventually take your throne. Can you help us find him?” And though, being from out of town, they
might not know of Herod's tyrannical reputation, how he was quick to eliminate
all rivals, even his own family members, I think it is safe to assume any
person called “wise” would know to make up a story that sounded less
treason-y. Or even ask someone other
then the King about the new “king of the Jews.”
Maybe they should have asked the
chief priests and the scribes of the people where to find the Messiah. That is what Herod does. And they know; they know the answer to that
question. They tell him that the Messiah
will come from Bethlehem. It was right
there where it is supposed to be – in the Bible. They were religious scholars; they studied;
they knew the prophecies. They know
where to go and for what they are looking.
However, unlike the wise men, they just stay put.
Herod, unlike the religious
authorities, is a man of action. He
searches for Jesus. The self-appointed
King of the Jews looking for the divinely-appointed King of the Jews. But not to pay homage, not to worship him,
not to bring gifts. His journey is meant
to end in murder. And just to be sure
that his infant rival is eliminated, he kills any and every little child who
might fit the description.
Everyone in this story is looking
for the Messiah. The priests and the
scribes were looking in books. The king
was looking to kill. And then there are
these foreigners, these outsiders, these Wise Ones who appear shockingly
unaware, unaware of the religious and political implications of their search,
unaware that not everyone will be greet the Messiah with joy.
It is all backwards. The ones who were looking in the right places
missed it. The ones who were star
gazing, got it. Lutheran bishop Craig
Satterlee says, “[T]hese Wise Ones from the East were scientists and practiced
other religions, and God used their faith and knowledge to bring them to the
Christ. More ironic, God used scientists who practiced other religions to let
King Herod and the chief priests and scribes of the people in on the news that
their Messiah had been born. God seems
to do whatever it takes to reach... and embrace all people. God announces the
birth of the Messiah to shepherds through angels on Christmas, to Magi via a
star on Epiphany, and to the political and religious authorities of God’s own
people through visitors from the East.”
He continues, “God’s radical grace
is wondrously frightening. I experience a bit of a shudder as I think of the
implications of portraying the Magi as scientists who practiced another
religion, because to do so pushes me to expand my understanding of...the ways
God reaches out to people to announce good news in and through Christ....”
“The Magi did not come looking for
the Christ through preaching, liturgy, sacrament, a welcoming congregation, or
a vital social ministry.... They came seeking the Christ after studying the
night skies. As someone who holds on to
favorite, cherished ways that God works to proclaim the gospel and bring people
to faith, it’s always wondrously frightening to realize anew that God’s own
work of embracing all people is more 'mystery' than 'formula,' because God’s
ways are always bigger than my understanding.”[1]
It wasn't the chief priests; it
wasn't the scribes of the people; it wasn't the most powerful man in the
region; only the wise men find their way to Jesus. After the long, dangerous journey, I wonder
if their final destination was anything like what they expected. Their first stop was in a throne room but
they found who they were looking for in a feeding trough. And even though he did not look the part,
they knew he was the One – an infant born in humble circumstances into a humble
family. This is where their star stopped. This is where their joy became
overwhelming. And while the scribes kept
studying and the king kept hunting, these Zoroastrian priests from Persia
worshiped the infant king of the Jews.
And there in Bethlehem, under starry skies, some wearied pilgrims were
embraced, accepted, loved by a God they did not know. As Eliot would write, “We returned to our
places, these kingdoms, but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
with an alien people clutching their gods.”[2] After that night they would return to their
own country, but they had found Jesus or maybe it was that Jesus found them,
and they would never be the same.
Comments
Post a Comment