Follow the Light – sermon on January 10, 2016
Scripture Lesson: Matthew 2: 1-12
Jesus was born in Bethlehem in Judea, during the reign of King Herod. About that time some wise men from eastern lands arrived in Jerusalem, asking,“Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose, and we have come to worship him.”
King Herod was deeply disturbed when he heard this, as was everyone in Jerusalem. He called a meeting of the leading priests and teachers of religious law and asked, “Where is the Messiah supposed to be born?”
“In Bethlehem in Judea,” they said, “for this is what the prophet wrote:
‘And you, O Bethlehem in the land of Judah,
are not least among the ruling cities of Judah,
for a ruler will come from you
who will be the shepherd for my people Israel.’”
Then Herod called for a private meeting with the wise men, and he learned from them the time when the star first appeared. Then he told them, “Go to Bethlehem and search carefully for the child. And when you find him, come back and tell me so that I can go and worship him, too!”
After this interview the wise men went their way. And the star they had seen in the east guided them to Bethlehem. It went ahead of them and stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were filled with joy! They entered the house and saw the child with his mother, Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasure chests and gave him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
When it was time to leave, they returned to their own country by another route, for God had warned them in a dream not to return to Herod.
Sermon: Follow the Light by Rev. Doreen Oughton
Does anyone here know much about Buddhism? Do you know how the Dalai Lama became the Dalai Lama? Tibetan Buddhism posit that when a person dies, they do not immediately reincarnate, but go through an intermediate period called the bardo. When regular people, even Buddhists, die, the conditions of their reincarnation – when and as what, are determined by their karma – not what a person wishes, but what they deserve, you might say. But Tibetan Buddhists believe there are an enlightened few who, through their devotion to compassion for all sentient beings, have transcended karma and have complete control over the time, place and form of their future births. They also get to skip the bardo, and reincarnate immediately. They undergo a conscious dying, transferring consciousness at the moment of death into a new being.
Once the Dalai dies, a committee begins the search for the reincarnated one. There is a place in Tibet, by a lake, where the High Lamas and Tibetan government officials sit and meditate, experiencing visions and dreams that guide their search. If the Dalai Lama had been cremated, great attention is paid to the direction the smoke blew.
Now imagine a group of American Christians, having heard or intuited somehow that the Dalai Lama was ready to shake off his present incarnation, go to the town or area where the transition is happening, and, when the time of cremation comes, watch the direction of the smoke. They observe the High Lamas at the lake, and then follow them on their journey. The Christians arrive behind the Lamas in a village, but have lost sight, and so they knock on doors asking, where is the child who is the Dalai Lama? They stumble into the residence of a Chinese nationalist who finds the whole Buddhist / Dalai worship thing a threat to the Republic. The Christians don’t understand that completely, but just know that there is something fishy about the way these people ask the to come back and let them know what they found.
Somehow the Christians find their way, and come to the search committee of officials working with a child. They watch the testing, as the child chooses from an assortment of items only the ones that belonged to the previous Dalai. They watch the excitement grow on the faces of the High Lamas as the child passes the secret tests that will affirm that this is indeed the reincarnated Dalai. Then the Christians fall on their knees, and offer gifts – I don’t know what kind of gift would be meaningful to the Dalai Lama, but somehow they know just the right, symbolic item to bring. Then they head back to the States, full of wonder and joy.
This is the closest thing I could imagine to what the magi did. It’s remarkable, isn’t it? They spent quite a lot of time, made tremendous effort to find this baby that they determined was the King of the Jews. Who were they? There is a lot of speculation among biblical scholars, but there is not much agreement. Many are quite certain they are not Jewish, though not all. Some suggest they are Zoroastrians. I couldn’t find any who thought they were really kings, though some speculated they were royal in some way. We have it in our minds that there were three that traveled to see the baby, but scripture doesn’t give us a number of magi. It could have been three, or 2, or several more. The text mentions 3 gifts, so you can see how we jumped to a conclusion.
Some scholars believe the magi were well-educated, perhaps astronomers, but others say, no, they were more like astrologers than astronomers. They looked to the sky for signs and portents, not with a scientific curiosity, but for fortune-telling. It was a common idea in those times that the birth or death of great men was accompanied by heavenly signs. Brian Stoffregen points out that our word “magic” or “magician” comes from this word. He says, “They were not so much respectable ‘wise men’ but horoscope fanatics — a practice condemned by Jewish standards. We might compare them to people in fortune-teller booths, or people on the psychic hotline or other occupations that foretell the future by stars, tea leaves, Tarot cards, etc.” He quotes another writer: “The Magi would thus represent, to the early Jewish reader, the epitome of Gentile idolatry and religious hocus-pocus — dabblers in chicken gizzards, forever trotting off here or there in search of some key to the future.” Stoffregen points out that when this word ‘magi” is used in the book of Acts, Paul speak to the one called magi this way: “You are a child of the devil and an enemy of everything that is right! You are full of all kinds of deceit and trickery. Will you never stop perverting the right ways of the Lord?”
And yet here they are, heroes in an early story of the birth of the Christ, the incarnation of God. Stoffregen also says the gifts they gave – the gold, frankincense and myrrh, rather than being ideal gifts that acknowledge Jesus as King, Priest and Perfect Sacrifice are just things they used in their magic. Did they know of Jewish symbols and rites? Did they know of the Hebrew scripture prophesies? Matthew’s story doesn’t tell us. They just followed the star.
As they got near Jerusalem, where the reigning king resided, perhaps they thought this must be the place. This is where a king would be found. They don’t quote scripture. No, that is done by the priests and scribes that Herod consults after this disturbing visit from these foreign fortune-tellers. The religious scholars could say the place, but had no insight into the timing of things. We have the story of the magi on Epiphany – which means something like the light dawning – flashes of insight and understanding, having something revealed. Is Matthew reminding us that the light dawns even for people who don’t even follow the religion? Is this a message that we can be led to understanding even through practices that our religion frown upon? Is God’s grace and truth given to everybody and anybody? One commentator points out that Matthew’s gospel ends with the great commission, where Jesus sends his disciples out to all nations to baptize and proclaim the good news. But here in the beginning of Matthew, the magi may represent all nations coming to honor Jesus. It’s full circle – coming in and going out.
So Herod had the Magi’s knowledge of when, and the priest’s knowledge of where. And he was scared. And “all of Jerusalem” was scared with him. I wonder who Matthew was including there. The priests and scribes that consulted with Hero? Those who knew their bread was buttered by Rome? Were ordinary people of Jerusalem scared by these strangers coming and saying that a new king had been born to them? Craig Satterlee identifies with the fear. He says that God’s grace is wondrously frightening because it pushes him to expand his understanding of how God reaches out to people, all people, and what that means to people with faith, who think it is important to be faithful to the church. He reminds us that the magi did not come looking for the Christ through preaching, liturgy, sacrament, a welcoming congregation, or a vital social ministry — things he holds dear. We churchgoers might like to think we understand how faith works, we think we have figured where to look or listen for God’s word. Passages like this remind us that God’s embrace of people is more mystery than formula, because God’s ways are always bigger than our understanding. We worry that God is being lost in this world because people aren’t coming to church much anymore. We worry that God’s word won’t be shared, that people won’t know how to get close to God. Its understandable. We love church and what it has done for us. We want it to continue, and I hope that it does. But we can’t count God out if it doesn’t continue in the way we’ve experienced it.
I was struck by one of my daily devotionals last week. Tony Robinson talked about an NPR interview done with Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber, a heavily tattooed pastor and writer, something of a rock star in progressive Christian circles. Nadia tells of the earnest seminarian asking her about her spiritual practices for getting closer to God. She answered her, “”Why would I want to get close to God? Whenever Jesus gets close to me I end up having to love someone I hate, give away more of my money, or forgive someone I don’t want to forgive.” She went on to say that in her life it feels more like “God has come after me.” So true, right? Maybe all of Jerusalem had good reason to be afraid. Maybe all of Leicester does also. Robinson says, “We often think of the Christian faith as our human search for God, our feeble attempt to get close to God. The Bible tells a different story, one more in line with Bolz-Weber’s experience: the story of the God who keeps showing up, intruding, refusing to leave us alone, searching for us. A God who won’t take “no” for an answer. A new king has been born to us, to all. Will we hear that as a a threat or a promise? Will we take the journey to follow the light? Will we rejoice to see it, let ourselves be full of wonder? Or will be seek to stay in our comfortable shadows, where not too much is revealed, where we can hold onto our illusions of security, of our ideas about our insider knowledge and power? The light has dawned. Let’s open our eyes. May it be so.
