In the name of God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
When
you look to Scripture to find examples for your daily discipleship, who do turn
to? Ruth, Peter, Abraham, Paul – these are all popular choices, and for good
reasons. Often overlooked, the magi in the Epiphany story give us another great
example of what faith in action looks like.
A
few notes on language first before beginning though. If you’re wondering why we
call this feast “Epiphany,” it’s because “epiphany” means to “display” or
“show.” Prior to this event, Jesus had only been known by Jewish people – Mary,
Joseph, shepherds, people in Jerusalem and Bethlehem. The prophet Isaiah wrote
about the servant of God, saying “It is too light a thing that you should be my
servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel;
I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the
end of the earth.” This servant is seen as a prefigurement of Jesus. The
Messiah’s purpose isn’t to just restore Israel, but to bring salvation to the
ends of the earth. Epiphany is when that promise is first fulfilled – as
travelers from the east come and see the salvation of God which has been made
known in Jesus.
One
other note on language, and that is on what we call these travelers. You’ve
probably heard them called kings, maybe sages, perhaps wise men, or magi. I
prefer the term “magi,” as that’s the closest to the Greek of the New
Testament, but also seems to capture their role. It’s unlikely they were kings
or heads of state. But they were likely some sort of astrologers or magicians.
And we really don’t know how many of them there were. Some assume that there
were three because three gifts are mentioned, but we really don’t know, and I
don’t think it much matters.
What
matters about the magi is the way in which they show us what a life of faith
looks like. The first thing that we might say about them is they are attentive.
They ask of Herod “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For
we observed his star at its rising.” Just look up at the night sky – there are
lots of stars up there. You’ll even occasionally see a shooting star. But how
often do we stop and pay attention to the stars?
These
magi are grounded and they pay attention to nature. In talking to people, it
seems that those who notice the small things in nature are most spiritually
in-tune. I’ve known a few people who notice a bird in a tree amidst the
busyness of a city street, who notice a particular flower while on a hike, who
notice small details in a work of art – and these people are often people of
tremendous spiritual depth. Our senses overwhelm us with data, especially in
our modern culture of background music, vibrating smartphones, and televisions
in nearly every corner.
Certainly
these magi weren’t the only people to see this star. But they stopped to notice
it. And more than just noticing, they allowed it to speak to them. The star
drew them in. There was something mysterious about it, it beckoned them to go
deeper. They allowed themselves to be intrigued, to be diverted from the daily
grind, to be courageous enough to go on an adventure.
I
wonder, what draws you in? On a Friday night, what brings you here? Mark and I
are paid to be here (that doesn’t meant that we don’t want to be here), but for
the rest of you, there was a choice. You could have gone out to dinner, you
could have had a relaxing night at home, you could have gone to see a movie.
But when you heard that we were having an Epiphany service, something drew you
in. Spend some time thinking and praying about that – what draws you here
tonight? This is the first example we have of faith from these magi – that they
allow themselves to be drawn in by the light.
As
we next see in this story, being caught up in something isn’t always a good
thing. As a counter-example to the magi, we have Herod. He hears that there is
a king of Jews of whom the heavens are signaling his birth. His response isn’t
one of praise, but of fear. You see, one of Herod’s titles was “King of the
Jews,” and it wasn’t a title that he was prepared to share. From historical
writings, we surmise that Herod was an incredibly narcissistic, maniacal,
paranoid tyrant. He was violent and brutal – killing his own wife and two of
his sons because he suspected them of wanting to overthrow him. He likely
wouldn’t have thought twice about killing a Jewish peasant who threatened him.
So he was very much drawn in and caught up by this star, but not in a way that
we ought to emulate.
Rather,
our example are the magi. They are attracted to the star because of its radiant
brightness and warmth. As Isaiah wrote, “Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has
risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the
peoples; but the Lord
will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you.” The thing is, if you
live in darkness, light can be scary. Light, when your eyes are used to
darkness, can be disorienting, even painful. It’s a question of how we deal
with things that are bigger than us, more beautiful than us, purer than us. Do
we try to silence them, fearing that they might make us seem inferior? Do we
domesticate them in order to control them? Or do we let them change us?
The
renowned Biblical scholar Walter Brueggemann has written a poem called
“Epiphany” in which he writes “On Epiphany day, we are still the people
walking. We are still people in the dark, and the darkness looms large around
us, beset as we are by fear, anxiety, brutality, violence, loss – a dozen
alienations that we cannot manage.” And it’s true, we live in a world that is
no stranger to darkness. We can talk about racism, cancer, the horrors of
Aleppo, or the vitriol of partisan politics – we know darkness.
But
Brueggemann goes on to write “We are - we could be - people of your light. So
we pray for the light of your glorious presence… We submit our day to you and
to your rule, with deep joy and high hope.” That’s the question for us in
figuring out if we’re more like Herod or the magi? What happens when light pierces
the darkness? Do we fight it, or submit to it? We’re not much on submission.
We’re more of a “have it your way” society.
I
particularly like that he ends the poem with a note of deep joy and high
hope. Hope is one of the most subversive and courageous things that we can do.
Hope is having humility and trusting in God’s goodness and mercy, even if it is
beyond our comprehension. Hope is a wisdom that knows, and embraces, that
present realities do not necessarily dictate future outcomes. Hope is having
the theological imagination to see the world that God is calling forth. This is
what separates the magi from Herod – hope. For the magi, there is a great
unknown in the light from that star. They have no idea what implications this
child will have for the world, but they have hope for the transformative power
of the radiant light that they have seen. Herod though is hopeless. For him,
that star is a sign of uncertainty, and so he seeks to put it out. This is the
second lesson for our faith; it is an invitation to live with the throttle of
our theological imaginations wide open.
The
magi then bring gifts to the Christ-child. But there are actually four gifts
mentioned in Scripture, thought its common to overlook the first one. We often
remember that they bring gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But as Matthew records,
“On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt
down and paid him homage.” The first gift that the magi offer is homage. In
Greek, it is proskuneo, and you might
hear that root word that is related to our word “kinetic.” This word most
literally means “to bow down.” It is what you did when you approached a king or
a deity, you bowed down. Our translation renders it as “pay homage,” and it
could also mean “worship” or “adore.” What is interesting is the phrase that
comes just before they adore him. Matthew notes that “they were overwhelmed
with joy.” The original text puts it as “they were very much exceedingly
joyful.” When was the last time you were overwhelmed with joy?
When
all of your children and grandchildren were gathered for the holidays, when you
got good news from the doctor, when your child was born, when you received
Eucharist? When you experience this sort of joy, there isn’t anything to do
with it. You can’t explain it, you can’t capture it, you can’t prolong it.
Perhaps you shed tears, but you savor that joy, you rest in it. This is what we
mean in the church when we speak of “adoration.” It’s about being overwhelmed
by the love, mercy, and grace of God.
This
joy though does change us. Notice the magi. The joy physically changes them.
They can no longer stand straight, but put their faces to the ground. Joy
always has a physical dimension. It makes us cry, it takes our breath away, it
makes us weak in the knees. But notice that joy also has a mental aspect to it.
As the Gospel text concludes, it says “They left for their own country by
another road.” This encounter with joy necessitated that they reordered their
lives. The magi couldn’t leave the same way that they came because joy changed
them. Once you encounter the joy of Jesus, you are changed. If you have known
the joy of faith, spend some time in prayer with discerning how this joy will
change you.
The
magi are examples of faith for us. They show us of the importance of allowing
ourselves to be drawn in by God’s appearances in a busy world. They invite us
to be attracted, not fearful, of God’s radiant hope. And they remind us of the
importance of responding to pure joy with adoration that brings us to our knees
and makes us chart a new course.
One
of my favorite ways to understand the birth of Jesus is through two lines of WH
Auden’s “Christmas Oratorio.” When the shepherds encounter the Christ-child
they say “Here and now our endless journey beings.” Once you come to Jesus, it
is the start of the endless journey of coming to more fully and deeply know the
love out of which we were created and are destined for. And when the Christ-child
is manifested to the magi in the poem, they say “Here and now our endless journey
ends.” When you find Jesus, your search for that which is holy, and true, and
worthy is finished. And so it is. In Jesus we find both the start and end of
our journey of faith. May God grant you peace, wisdom, and grace on your
endless journey. Amen.
