Epiphany is January 6; but it is celebrated in many churches on the first Sunday in January. And every year on this day, the lectionary presents us with the story of the wise men.
In each year of its three year cycle, the lectionary focuses on one of the gospels; most of our gospel readings for the coming year will be from the book of Mark. But the wise men don’t appear in Mark’s gospel. Their story is found only in Matthew.
If we were going to be doing a lot of readings from Matthew this year, I would probably use today’s sermon to talk about the contrast between two kings—the contrast between two kingdoms. This juxtaposition is set up in Matthew by the visit of the wise men, who go to Jerusalem—which, as the scripture points out, is where Herod, the “king of Judea”, is—and they begin asking about the whereabouts of the King of the Jews. In Matthew’s gospel, the conflict between the two kingdoms is established right from the get-go.
But since this isn’t the year in which the lectionary focuses on Matthew, I won’t go there. Instead, I will lead us in pondering how the wise men, despite common stereotypes, did stop and ask for directions. See? It is possible. Men can stop and ask for directions.
Then again, it is possible that they weren’t just men. The Greek refers to them as magi, a word that could possibly be used to apply to females as well as males. And while we’re going about the business of clearing things up, I should point out that nowhere in Matthew’s gospel does it say that there were three of them. It says that three gifts were brought, but it doesn’t say how many people came bringing those gifts. And nowhere does it say that they were from the orient; it merely says that they came from the east, which, more than likely, refers to Babylon or Persia.
Even so, we started this morning’s worship service singing, “We Three Kings of Orient Are…” Why? Well, because it sounds a lot better than singing, “We, an unknown number of wise men or women who are not kings, from Babylon and Persia are…” Don’t you think?
Oh, and another thing: If we were to be spending a lot more time in Matthew this year, I would feel obligated to point out to you that there is no manger in Matthew. The star leads the magi to a house. Apparently Matthew didn’t hear that part of the story. Somehow, Matthew missed the memo about the manger.
But, since most of the gospel readings for the coming year will be coming from Mark’s gospel—which doesn’t even mention Jesus’ birth at all—I won’t bother you with such details today. It would take too long to sort all that out. And I won’t even dwell on the gifts that the magi brought, the gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Perhaps it is enough to simply say that everything in scripture isn’t always as it seems.
But I do want to draw your attention to one part of this story, and that is how the magi reacted when they saw the baby. They did not react the way I would have expected magi to react. These magi were smart, learned men (and possibly women). They were scholars. They were scientists, sages, philosophers. They were indeed considered wise by many.
Such people typically show some restraint when it comes to expressing their emotions. Being from the east, they were non-Jews, so I certainly wouldn’t expect them to get too excited over the birth of the king of the Jews. They were not your typical messiah-seekers. In fact, it is somewhat surprising that they were even seeking the messiah at all.
Their demeanor, it seems to me, would be that of a member of the Jedi Council, or of the Wizengamot. Thoughtful, reflective, every word and every action the result of deep thought and wisdom. Clearly, they would be individuals that would be in control of their emotions and their reactions to events, no matter how tumultuous or fantastic those events may be.
A personality like that is one that many consider ideal. Whether consciously or unconsciously, it seems to be a personality type that sets the tone for much of what passes as Christian worship today. Let all things be done with some measure of formality, and order, without too much emotion. Let us have a worship and a faith that is reasonable, not irrational.
As a religious leader, I know that this is often the tone that I set for others. I’m not necessarily saying that it’s good or bad, just that that’s the way it is, although I do feel that, as an American Protestant clergy, it is, to some extent, expected of me.
And when we see the arrival of the magi portrayed in art and in drama, we usually see them arriving with some solemn formality, graciously laying their gifts before the infant messiah slowly, in silence, or perhaps with a few words spoken quietly expressing their honor to the baby and his parents. I’m not the only one who has this image, am I?
So it is somewhat surprising to me to discover that, when the magi saw where the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. Overwhelmed! And they hadn’t even seen the baby yet, just the house.
Well, maybe the New Revised Standard Version exaggerated a bit. “Overwhelmed with joy.” To find out, I looked it up in the New International Version, and discovered that it says that they were “overjoyed.” Overjoyed; overwhelmed with joy; not too different.
Next I took out my great grandmother’s Revised Standard Version. It says that the magi “rejoiced exceedingly with great joy,” which, to me, seems a bit redundant. It reminded me of my high school calculus teacher who once said that anything redundant is worth saying twice. It’s also like an old pest control commercial that advertised its ability to “kill bugs dead, forever.”
They rejoiced exceedingly, with great joy.
I turned next to a commentary, to see what the modern scholars had to say. I wanted to know what those who knew ancient Greek far better than I thought about this. Turns out that the redundancy is there in the original language. They really did “rejoice exceedingly with great joy.” Modern translations, written, of course, by modern scholars, have actually toned that down a bit, and many have got rid of the strange-sounding redundancy. But apparently the magi really were so overcome, that Matthew had to say it twice in order to get his point across. They really did “rejoice exceedingly, with great joy.”
Or, as the Message Bible puts it, “they could hardly contain themselves.” And they hadn’t even seen the baby yet—just the house.
Can you imagine the members of the Jedi Council behaving in such a way?
Then they entered the house, and saw the child with Mary his mother. And, according to the New Revised Standard Version, they knelt down, and paid him homage. Yes, I can picture them kneeling down, in a noble sort of way. The New International Version says they bowed down, and worshiped him. OK, I can go with that.
But the Revised Standard Version says that they fell down. There was nothing noble about that. One doesn’t fall graciously. One falls because one has lost one’s strength in the knees.
And the Message Bible puts it this way: “overcome, they kneeled and worshiped him.”
Overcome. Overwhelmed. Unable to contain themselves.
Well, I thought about these magi, behaving in such an unbecoming manner. And then, my thoughts began to shift. I thought about what they had come to see, the baby, God’s gift to the world. The more I thought about it, the more I began to realize that, maybe, their reaction was the only appropriate reaction to such an amazing event. My thoughts began to shift from wondering why the magi behaved this way, and shifted to wondering why Christians today don’t behave this way.
We have the most amazing gift, a gift that is as real and present to us today as it was to those magi: the gift of Jesus Christ. And from Jesus we have received the vision of a new kingdom, a new way of living, a way that sets us free from the expectations and demands of our often misguided culture, and which reorients us to a life that is beyond our imagination; a life of abundance and fulfillment and great joy.
Because of Jesus, I know that I don’t have to achieve a certain status in society in order to find fulfillment and satisfaction. I don’t have to wear the finest clothes or own a decently large home. I don’t have to have a certain income or be friends with important people. I don’t have to have my name on a building, or have lots of people that work under me. I don’t have to talk a certain way or have movie-star looks.
Because of Jesus, I know that none of that will bring me the happiness and the security for which I crave. That happiness and that security, come from knowing that I am loved. I am loved by God, who created me in God’s own image. And I am important not because I have a top position in my company, but because God has called me to do important work. God has called me to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly. God has called me to help build up the community of humanity by feeding the hungry and clothing the naked. God has called me to minister to the poor and the oppressed.
Whenever I do these things, I am reminded of how blessed I am, and indeed, I am never more aware of my blessings as I am when I am doing the will of God.
Jesus shows the way to this life of blessing.
And if I think about it long enough, I find that I am overjoyed, and that, for some reason that I can’t explain, I’ve been suppressing this joy, hiding it from others. Why? I don’t know. Perhaps I’m afraid that if I let it out, it would overwhelm me, that I would hardly be able to contain myself, just like those magi of old. And people around me would see my excitement, and wonder where it came from, and I’d have to tell them, “it comes from Jesus.”
And they’d ask me where they could learn about this Jesus, and I’d say, “Come with me to Bixby Knolls Christian Church. It’s a community of people who are full of the love of Christ. Accepting that gift of love, they are learning to love one another and all people, regardless of race or class or social status. It’s a place where we may not always see eye to eye, but we do always walk hand in hand, a place where we pray for one another and the world around us, and where we come together to see what we can do to help make God’s world a better place.
“It’s a place where people are overcome with great joy because of the love of God, and where, week after week, they offer up to God their gifts of gratitude—just as the magi offered up their gifts—gifts for the work of God’s kingdom. They find that joy comes from giving, from sharing. We hear that a lot in society, and mostly it’s just talk, but those who are active in the church have discovered that it really is true.
“Come see for yourself!”
And they’d come, and they’d discover—much to their surprise, I’m sure—that everything I said is true. And they would ask to be baptized, and join the church, and would so want to incorporate the Jesus way of living into their own lives, to live a whole new life, and to help build God’s kingdom on earth.
And they’d invite others to come, and soon, the place would be packed. You’d have to get here early to get a good pew. We wouldn’t have enough parking spaces, and folks who didn’t arrive early would have to park a block away. There would be young people everywhere, making noise, and those who had been coming here for thirty years would suddenly find that there were a lot of unfamiliar faces, and a lot of names to learn.
It would be kind of … overwhelming. I wonder if we’d be ready for all that.
Perhaps we should ignore Matthew’s overly exuberant magi. Perhaps we’d be safer sticking with the three noble kings we’ve come to know.
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