The Magi
The Magi
Matthew 2:1-12
Who are these people? The Greek text says they are magi, from the East. Matthew tells us that the first people who recognize Jesus as the King were not Jews or nearby neighbors. No, these visitors were from far, far away—complete strangers. Matthew implies, “They are so not us!” And yet, they understood.
How did they do this? They were paying attention. Something caught their eye. They were curious. They decided that they had to go find out for themselves. Of all things, they ended up following a star all the way to a land that they thought they would never visit.
The whole time that Matthew is introducing us to these outsiders, he’s poking his Jewish audience: “How about you? Are you curious, too? What if Jesus was the Messiah, the Christ, and we all just missed it. Are you willing to follow this Gospel like these outsiders who followed this star? Are you willing to be led to a place—a belief— you can’t yet even imagine?”
This is the first epiphany of Epiphany Sunday—our first surprising insight: we have to pay attention. If something was going on, would we notice it? How many interesting things do you think that we altogether miss? It could be the sandhill cranes flying overhead. It could be our friend who is trying to get our attention but we are preoccupied. It could be the appearance of someone long forgotten in our thoughts. When we are lost in our own stuff, we are unavailable. Not even God can get our attention?
I remember one day when I was sitting outside with friends in Minnesota. It was a beautiful day and the company was great. We were chatting away when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Literally, there was a fireball cutting across the sky. Was it a plane crashing? Was it some sort of U.F.O.? Did anyone else see it? “Well, I don’t want to seem crazy. Maybe I shouldn’t say anything.” Then, one of my friends spoke up, “Holy cow! What the heck was that?” We found out later that it was a meteor, so bright that it burned across the daytime sky. How many fireballs had I previously missed? What else had I missed because I was busy?
I was so relieved that someone else saw it. I think this must have been what gave these travelers from the East the courage to make their journey: others are seeing what they can see; others are willing to travel with them. Yes, we have to pay attention. However, we are far more likely to actually “follow the star” if it’s the star we saw together.
Hold on here. Isn’t there another story about light catching someone’s eye? Remember, Matthew is writing to a Jewish audience, steeped in the core stories of their faith. It is not a stretch to think that these outsiders, having their curiosity piqued by a light, would have reminded Matthew’s audience of another unexpected light. Moses was an outsider in Egypt when he killed an Egyptian who was abusing a slave. Eventually, having evaded the authorities long enough, he married and becomes a shepherd, tending his father-in-law’s flocks. In that wilderness, what does Moses see? Not a star but a bush that is burning but is not consumed. What happens? His curiosity kicks in. He has to go see for himself. When he does, he receives his calling: to pay a visit to the most powerful man in the world and announce that the slaves are about to be liberated.
As an aside, this is why it matters how we think about what these travelers do for a living. Moses struts into Pharaoh’s court and has absolutely no standing. He’s just someone who is speaking God’s truth. He is just a shepherd. If we think of these later travelers as kings, they might have credibility with Herod—royal peers. If we think of them as “wise men,” maybe their impressive minds set them apart. However, if we think of them as “magi,” we are saying that they are some odd combination of astrologers and magicians (“magi” being the Greek word that became “magicians.”) Their only power is that they are, in effect, on a mission from God. That mission, like Moses’ mission, is to announce the liberation of the people.
Of course, the people in the time of the birth of Jesus were not slaves making bricks. No, they were just “slaves” to the whims of their terrible king, Herod. Herod was the kind of paranoid, power-mongering ruler who would kill his own kids if he felt threatened—and everyone knew that he felt threatened by the slightest provocation. Like an abused family whose central mission is to keep Dad from getting angry, everyone played their part in placating Herod’s fears. That’s why, when these magi waltz into Herod’s court and announce that they know that the new king has been born and that the only open question is where, audible gasps must have filled the room. I can’t imagine anyone in that moment thinking, “Now, these…these are some wise men!” I’m pretty sure the general mood was, “We have to get these idiots out of here!”
I think this is our second epiphany this morning. Our assumption is that if we did notice something and what we noticed was actually a “call” to do something, then somehow that call would fit us and make sense. In some way, we would expect that we are qualified for the job, as if God had somehow checked our resume’. Here’s the truth, though: no one is qualified, not Moses, not the magi, presumably, not Matthew, himself. We’d love to feel like we have a “leg to stand on,” some compelling reason why someone should listen to us: our flowing hair; our overwhelming charisma; our irresistible charms. However, when it’s time to speak God’s truth, it may be the complete absence of any “qualifications” that leads someone to actually listen: “Wow…either this person is a complete lunatic or there’s something to what they’re saying here!”
All of this leads to a third epiphany: if we don’t have a leg to stand on, it’s probably also true that we don’t have a thing to gain, other than maybe just a little bit of peace. Think about poor Moses. What does he gain for setting the slaves free? He gets to wander with an insufferable group of people through the wilderness for forty years. And, when it looks like they are right on the brink of the big payoff—the promised land—Moses finds out that he won’t be going. God doesn’t pick us because we’re all that wonderful. We don’t choose to respond because of what’s in it for us. The calculus is a bit different here. This is about actually recognizing something larger and deeper and more meaningful than self-interest.
The magi announce that their mission is to find the newborn king and “pay him homage.” This was a loaded phrase, loaded in ways that we are far less likely to understand than Matthew’s audience. “Paying homage” was something in that ancient world that a peasant did in public to show loyalty to their lord. In doing this, the travelers weren’t diplomats, establishing some future basis for diplomacy between their home kingdom and Israel. Instead, they would be making a declaration, here and now, that they were humbled before this lord and king. This kind of unsolicited, heartfelt loyalty and humility would have been the one thing that Herod knew that he would never receive from his people. Whatever they did before him was only based on the sheer terror of imagining what he might do to them. Feely choosing to humble ourselves before something greater than ourselves might, in fact, be the one path that any of us will ever find that actually leads to genuine peace, the kind that lasts no matter what turmoil is going on around us.
Herod, who has no inner peace and no peace in his kingdom, starts plotting. He puts his religious experts to work and asks them, “So…if a Messiah was to be born, where would that happen—hypothetically, theoretically?” Apparently without hesitation, those authorities answer, “Bethlehem.” At this point, I like to imagine Herod doing a double take and asking, “Did you ever think of mentioning this before?” At which point, in my mind’s eye, the authorities might whisper under the breath, “Why would we ever volunteer anything to you?”
Next, Herod calls the magi to him: “Here’s a hot tip. Go to Bethlehem. When you find the child, I want to know so that I can go pay him a little “homage” of my own.” No one would accuse Herod of being wise or humble or any other quality worth emulating but the man was cunning: “Let these travelers do the work and finish their little calling. I’ll come in afterwards and make short work of this ‘king.’”
That’s the thing. Herod was as cunning as anyone around. He could connive and plot and plan with the best of them. When it came to power, he could order people and terrified people would do what he said to do. However, when Herod was staring down a band of magicians from some strange land looking for a baby, the most powerful man around didn’t stand a chance. (People plan—even really powerful people—and as the old saying goes, “God laughs.”)
The magi go to Bethlehem. We don’t know how many of them there were. We don’t know exactly where they were from. We don’t know their names. We don’t even know how old Jesus was when they got there. (We do know that Matthew says that Mary and the baby were in a house— weird, huh?). All of that’s kind of interesting to notice but here’s what’s worth noticing most: as soon as the magi lay their eyes on the baby, they drop to their knees. They humble themselves before their Lord and pay him homage. They give him gifts (gold for the man who would show no regard for wealth and burial spices for the man who would lay down his life.) And for a moment, just a moment, I’m pretty sure they felt the peace that passes all understanding, the peace that you feel when you know that you’ve done exactly what you were supposed to do.
Almost as soon as they fell asleep, they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, to go home by another route. (Can you hear God laughing there? “What? I have to warn you guys about Herod? I love that about you guys! That’s exactly why I chose you in the first place!”)
So, if we haven’t felt that sense of calling lately, perhaps it’s time to check whether we are actually still paying attention. Maybe we need to open our eyes a little wider. Maybe we need to get our hearing checked and listen a bit more carefully. Maybe we need to be willing to turn to the person next to us and ask, “Did you just see what I just saw? Do you hear what I hear? Will you come with me and check this out?
If we do feel called to do something or say something or go somewhere, don’t make the test be whether you think you’re qualified. God’s leads. We follow. God calls us. We rise. The fact that you think you’re not qualified may be exactly why you are.
If you are still doubting that sense of calling, ask yourself this: “Do I have anything to gain by responding?” If you don’t, then you might just be on the right path, following the right “star.” If you pay careful attention, what may be glowing just as bright as a star against the Bethlehem sky or a burning bush in the wilderness is the peace inside of you.
Don’t worry about the “Herod’s” of this world. Stay awake and aware! Life is still full of surprises. Just keep looking and listening. Just keep on humbly walking.