Matthew 2:1-12
January 8, 2012
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus
was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem,
asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed
his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard
this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all
the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the
Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has
been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by
no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who
is to shepherd my people Israel.’” Then Herod secretly called for the wise men
and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent
them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when
you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.”
When they had heard the king, they set
out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising,
until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the
star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they
saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage.
Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold,
frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to
Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
I
think that the story of the magi is one of the most interesting in the Bible because
it’s so mysterious. And it’s so
different from almost every other story of the Bible. Everything about this small story is cloaked
in mystery, a mystery that’s still hard for modern Christian scholars to
decipher.
First,
what makes it odd is that it isn’t an “in-house” story. What I mean is that most of the stories of
the Bible are about Jews and/or Christians told from a Christian
perspective. Only very rarely do
outsiders get much prominent mention, and almost never with a sense of respect. These three mysterious magi are given a great
amount of respect, despite the fact that they were part of a religion that the
Jews would have been dismissive of and detested.
These
three “wise men” weren’t really wise men, nor were they “three kings,” which is
what we sing in the hymn, “We Three Kings.”
They were “magi,” which is a word connected to “magic.” They were priests in the Zoroastrian
religion, which was a religion that gave us astrology. They studied the stars, believing that the
stars dictated world events and human behavior, and that the study of them
could lead people to either understand their fate, or change it. The Jews considered followers of this faith
to basically be pagan and somewhat evil.
So for them to be prominent in the Gospel of Matthew is odd.
What
really strikes me about the magi is that they recognized things that others
missed, and they were presented that way by Matthew. They had studied the stars, and had seen
something significant happening in the world.
They saw significance in something that others would have just seen as
“interesting,” or not noticed at all, which is the “star” rising.
This
famed “star” is also a mystery. We’ve
grown up learning that the star was this great shining star that floated over
Jesus’ home. Well, that’s probably not
true. Scientists have studied whether a
great supernova or comet appeared at Jesus’ birth, and most have pretty much
determined that nothing of the kind happened.
What’s more, other than in the Bible, there is no other historical
witness to this great star. Even in the
Bible it tells us that neither Herod, the temple priests, nor the people in
Judea saw the star. Why would they be
the only ones to see it rising? Why
didn’t others of the time see it? Other
than mention of it in Matthew’s gospel, no other people of history report
seeing a great star.
Scientists have studied whether a great supernova or
comet appeared at Jesus’ birth, and most have pretty much determined that
nothing of the kind happened. What’s
more, other than in the Bible, there is no other historical witness to this
great star. So, why would Matthew talk about the star if it never existed?
Again,
you have to go back to who the magi were.
The magi were astrologers, and as astrologers they noticed astral
configurations that most others missed.
The star they saw was only great to them. In all probability, the star they saw rising
out of the East was a configuration of Jupiter, Saturn, and a star called
Regulus, or the king star. It would have
come together in the constellation of Leo, which was considered to be a royal
constellation. This configuration,
coming together in the early evening, would have been very bright, and Regulus
would have seemed to travel westward out of the configuration. Scientists who have studied the stars using
computers have noted that this configuration occured back in 4 B.C., which is
the year most scholars believe Jesus was born.
This great star was great only to the magi because they saw astrological
significance in it that others missed.
In fact, most people would never have even noticed the early evening
configuration at all, except as an oddity.
I
believe that this ability to see what others miss is one of the most rare
spiritual qualities in people. Most
people see only what they and others expect to see. I see this all the time among Christians. We develop our own theologies, our own
beliefs, our own cherished philosophies, and they help us see what we expect,
but they also blind us to what else may be there. Our beliefs are both doorways and traps. They open us to aspects of God, ourselves,
and life that without them we miss. But
once we develop strong enough belief systems, they close us off to all other
possibilities. Herod, the Romans, and
the Jews were not open to the significance of the star configuration because
they dismissed the faith of the magis. I
have to admit that I do, too, but the magi were open to the possibility that
something great was happening in the world, even outside of their own Persian
kingdoms.
All
of us are guilty of closing off because of our belief systems. We can hold onto our beliefs so tightly that
it rigidly shuts us off to what God is doing.
Let me give you some analogies.
There
was a man who suffered from terrible headaches.
Being a typical man, though, he refused to go to the doctor. Finally, his wife had had enough and forced
him to go. The doctor began his
questioning: “Do you smoke?” The man replied, “I would never touch that
evil weed! It is the devil’s plant” “Do you drink?” Again the man replied, “Booze is the devil’s
drink. Beer and wine shall never touch
these lips of mine!” “Do you
dance?” He replied, “Dancing is the
devil’s playground. It lets the devil
into our bodies.” “Do you watch
movies?” “Nothing they make nowadays is
worthwhile. It’s all about sex and
violence. The devil uses Hollywood to
pollute our souls.”
The
doctor thought for a while and said, “I think I know what’s causing your
headaches. Your halo is on too
tight!”
Let
me share another. There was a church
that didn’t take an offering the way we tend to. They made their money for the year on the big
worship days: Christmas, Easter, and
Pentecost. Knowing that this is when
people show up, they had a policy that to come to worship on those days, people
had to by a “pew license,” which reserved a pew for them. The policy was rigid: no one into the sanctuary without a ticket
showing that she or he has purchased a license.
During
Pentecost worship one year, a young boy came to the door during the service,
saying to the usher, “I need to go in and talk to my father.” The usher asked him if he had a ticket, the
boy said no. The usher said, “I’m sorry,
but then you can’t go in. We have a very
rigid policy for worship.” The boy
looked at him and pleaded: “But it’s an
urgent matter. I have to talk with him.” The
usher said, “I’m sorry, but no ticket no entry.”
Finally,
the boy begged: “Puh-lease! It’s really important!” The usher relented: “Okay, but only for a minute. And DON’T let me catch you praying!”
One
more. There was a priest in a parish
who, every year right before Christmas, received gifts from the children after
the children’s program. He would sit in
his chair, and each child would bring a present to him. And he would correctly guess the contents
because he typically knew what the parents did and what they would be giving
him through their children.
The
first boy, Jonathan, came up to him with a package. The priest took it, shook it, and knowing
that his parents owned a clothing store, said, “This is a beautiful sweater,
isn’t it?” Jonathan, his eyes wide in
amazement, said, “Yes, Father. How did
you know?” The priest said, “Ahhh,…
Father knows everything.”
The
next child, Sarah, came up and gave him her package. Knowing that her parents owned a hardware
store, he took it, shook it, and said, “Ah, you’ve given me some tools.” “How did you know, Father?” she said. He replied, “Ahhh,… Father knows
everything.”
Then
Georgie gave the priest his gift. It was
an oddly shaped package leaking something.
The priest, knowing that Georgie’s parents owned a liquor store, said,
“Oh, you’ve given me a fine bottle of scotch.”
“No, Father,” he replied.
“No? Hmmm,… what is it?” He touched the wet spot with his fingers and
tasted it. “Of course, this is a nice
bottle of gin.” “No, Father,” the boy
again replied. Confused, the priest
tasted it again, and sitting back with a grin said, “I know, it’s a nice bottle
of tequila.” “No, Father, it
isn’t.” The priest, now confused, and a
bit embarrassed, said, “Then what is it?”
The boy replied, “It’s a puppy.”
All
of us Christians have our belief blinders. They open our eyes to certain
realities, but then close us off to what else God may be doing. David Steindl-Rast once said that we hold our
beliefs firmly but gently so that we can become open to God’s surprise. Our beliefs are like an egg. Hold onto them too tightly and they crack,
making a mess. Hold onto them too
loosely they fall and break, making a mess.
We hold our beliefs firmly enough to let them guide us, but not so
firmly that they become useless. To be a
Christian means have a firm belief system that opens us to God, but at the same
time not turning these beliefs into false idols that actually prevent us from
seeing God and what God is doing.
I
see this same kind of belief blinders with non-Christians, too. We are living in a culture that has an
ever-growing anti-Christian bias. So
many today are declaring themselves to be agnostic or atheistic, and in the
process have decided that Christianity specifically, and religion in general,
have nothing to say to them. They’ve
developed such strong binders that they can’t see the value of what we believe,
and especially of what we do. They’ve
closed off. And in the process, they
lump all of us into a box, labeling most of us as fools and hypocrites.
I
experienced this about a year ago. I was
invited by a friend to lunch with one of his friends, who he thought I might
enjoy talking to me because of her and my counseling background. He didn’t realize she was an agnostic/atheist,
and it didn’t occur to him that she might have a problem with me being a pastor. At first, she was very stand-offish. As we talked about a wide range of topics—culture,
politics, interests—she warmed up to me, and finally said, “Are you sure you’re
a Christian?” I laughed and said, “Yeah,…
why?” She replied, “Because when I was
invited to lunch with a pastor, I figured I’d be having lunch with some Jerry
Fallwell kind of person. I didn’t know
that Christians thought like you.” Her
beliefs had given her blinders.
The
magi are a model for us. We need our beliefs, whatever they are, to point us to
God, but we also need to cultivate the ability to look outside of our beliefs
to see what God is doing all around us. That’s what the magi did.
Is it what you do?
Amen.
