Wonder [Christmas 2 - Matthew 2:1-12]

 The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Matthew 2:1-12

 

Wonder

St. Mark’s, Hoosick Falls

 

As a child, I knew this story through the song.  We Three Kings is the only hymn from the Epiphany section of Hymnal 1982 that even Pentecostals sing.  And while I could not have pinpointed the Orient on a map or defined a moor, the song made sense to me; I could sense that there was something true about it.  Because it captured the very heart of this story from Matthew’s Gospel.  At the heart of this story is wonder.

 

While these travelers are described as wise, I don’t think it was wisdom that disjoined them from the comforts of home.  In fact, traditional wisdom might discourage one from chasing an untethered star through the pitfalls of strange lands and unknown territories, all while carrying expensive, and very stealable, cargo.  I think they were enticed by wonder.

 

This story is riddled with mystery; and it is admittedly light on answers.  Historically, the gaps have been filled by a multitude of speculations – some fantastical and some rational.  But all beyond the sparse scope of Matthew’s story.  We might wonder how many journeyed to the manger, or from whence the visitors came, or what they hoped to find.  There are so many questions, so many details left to the imagination.  The story makes you wonder.  And that, I think, is the point.

 

I wonder why there were so few people who found the baby Jesus.  Maybe not many people saw the star at its rising; perhaps no one, save these few, were even looking.  Or maybe the wise men were the only ones with eyes to see it.  Either way, not many made the journey – in the great big world just this one group of seekers were curious enough to set off into the vast unknown. 

 

But these few did.  And they came from a distance.  From the East – which is hardly specific.  The world is a ball; pretty much anything can be East if one is willing to walk that far.  All we really know is that it wasn’t a few blocks east because, at the end of the story, they leave for their country, which means a different country, not the one in which Jesus was born, by another road. 

 

And they come all that way just to meet a baby – a baby to whom they are not even related.  It would be more understandable if these travelers were visiting the grandchild of one of the wise men; but they are not.  The baby is a stranger to them – but a stranger they are convinced is in line for the throne.  Only it is not a great throne; they do not come to welcome the first-born son of the Roman Emperor.  And it is not a beneficial throne; this is not happening in their homeland; they are not buttering up their own future ruler.  They arrive to meet the newborn king of the Jews, an occupied people, a small tribe on the global stage.  And I wonder why.  Why would these foreign visitors care to meet a Judean baby saddled with the rumors of royal trajectory?  That baby would never remember them.  And babies who will be king look just like babies who will not be king.  And so there was nothing to gain and nothing to see.

 

And if a king is what they wanted, there was a king close by.  The wise men find him too – by accident.  At some point the wandering star must have missed an exit, because the wise men end up in Jerusalem.  As the crow flies there is only about 6 miles between Bethlehem and Jerusalem; I’m not sure the distance as the camel gallops or the human strolls, but it is not a significant journey in the grand context of their travels.  It is, however, not where the baby was to be found.

 

It was where the king, Herod, was to be found.  And the current king was not thrilled with the news of his replacement – not because he was under the impression that he would live forever.  But probably because he was planning to keep the throne in the family.  The wise men were asking for directions out of town; they were not searching the palace.  And that was not the news Herod wanted to hear.

 

Herod is now on edge.  And so, of course, all of Jerusalem is afraid.  They have good reason; the news makes Herod research and rage – the rage being the dominant and more destructive reaction to the wise men.  The wonderous story of the wise men is followed in Matthew’s Gospel by the horrific tale of the slaughter of the innocents.  If they would have known of the murder to follow, I’m sure the wise men would have avoided the palace all together.  And the chief priests and the religious scholars would have never told Herod about the old prophecy.  But, driven by hatred, Herod tricked them all.  He did not want to worship; he wanted a target.  Like the wise men, and so many people throughout history, the religious scholars were left in shock by the terrible lengths to which powerful people will go to remain in power.

 

A dream would reveal the king’s true intentions, but that would happen later in the story.  The wise men leave Herod feeling hopeful and useful, but still in transit.  Not finding the baby in the most obvious location, the visitors continue their search.  The star recalculated the route and led them, this time, to a most unexpected scene.  The king of the Jews was not born in a palace; he was born into poverty – to simple people in a simple village.

 

But the simplicity did not fool the visitors.  And perhaps that is why we call them wise: they could see God in the midst of the mundane.  And there, in the place, with the star suspended above them, the visitors knelt and offered the Christ child their very best.

 

The Wise Men, and their journey, have captivated spiritual imaginations for centuries, inspiring song and poetry.  They have acquired names and faces over the years.  They have been cast in porcelain countless times.  Those tiny figurines spend the twelve days of the Christmas season being moved slowly across living rooms and churches by tiny fingers, growing ever closer to their destination.  And then, on the day they finally arrive, they are returned to the place from whence they came, a closet or an attic, maybe wrapped in old newspaper, until the star reappears next Christmas and they again begin their journey.    

 

Most of their time is spent on the long and dangerous journey.  And very little having arrived.  And I think that is why this strange and wonderful story makes so much sense to us.   

 

Matthew hits the highlights.  The Gospel talks of palaces and jealous kings and a tiny savior.  But those were just transient moments in the context of a much larger journey – a journey in which the wise men spend more time gazing at sandy expanses then they do on the face of Christ. 

 

And that is exactly what life is like.  There are, along the way, special moments, events that define our lives: baptisms, graduations, marriage, the birth of a child.  But if you add them together, stack them up, you realize that they are just fleeting moments in the context of a much larger journey – a journey on which much more time will be spent sleeping and driving and staring at your phone.  Most of your journey will be mundane.

 

Which makes those beautiful moments all the more precious.  Occasionally, a star will rise before you – pop up, you know, like stars do.  And, it will lead, perhaps in starts and stops, to a glimpse of something transformative, something that forever redefines your journey, something that makes it all worth it, something we might call an Epiphany.  And though the glimpse will prove elusive, no more than a passing moment in the long span of life, it will burrow into your heart and live there forever.  And you will then find you check the skies with a bit more regularity, knowing that God has sprinkled this world with enough wonder to make the journey worth it.