The old light and the new (Matthew 2.1-12)
The new light and the old (Matthew 2.1-12)
Eastminster/United Presbyterian Church, Epiphany (January 6, 2019)
Tom James
“They shall come from east and west, and north and south, to sit together at the table in the kingdom of God!” What a terrifying thought! Have you ever stopped to think of all the problems that would cause? Think of the logistical nightmare, for starters. Where would they all sit? How would we find something everyone would like to eat? What if the offering is too bland for some, or too spicy for others? Think of all the food allergies to somehow try and avoid. And what kind of table manners could we reasonably expect from those from the east, or from the west? Let’s not even talk about those from the south! The point is, how will we manage not to offend one another, gathered together from all over like that?
Getting lots of people together for big events, as great as it can be, can also raise anxiety levels. There’s always an element of the unknown, always the possibility that conversation will take that unexpected turn that exposes frictions that have been safely swept under the carpet for years, or that creates new ones altogether. Even getting family together for the holidays is like that, as we all know. It may feel cozy and comfortable around the fire—until the new boyfriend shows up, or the new spouse, who knows nothing of the facts necessary for survival in any family: who’s mad at whom, or who you don’t mention religion to, or who to avoid when the eggnog gets passed around. There are all kinds of things to avoid or to worry about, and even the most careful management cannot completely stamp them out.
Now, all of this may help us understand a little of the anxiety of King Herod. Herod was not only the appointed king of Israel; he was a skilled manager, able somehow to keep the people of occupied Israel together, while at the same time pleasing the occupying powers, while at the same time orchestrating the construction of an extravagant new version of the Jewish temple which made him hugely popular with his own people and famous throughout the world. Herod liked to be in control of the party, and he was really good at it.
And then these three strange men hopped down from there camels and innocently knocked on the palace doors. Our tradition calls them the “three wise men,” and they are sometimes pictured as three kings from the east. Likely, they were a group of astrologers from a region which we now know as Iran
But these “wise men” were just as ignorant as a new boyfriend, it seems, about the facts essential to survival in Herod’s family. They didn’t know that Herod was the uncle you need to avoid at the family Christmas get-together. They had no idea how easy it would be to fall into a conversational trap that might tend to ruin the party. “We have read in the stars about the birth of a king, and we have come to pay reverence to him.” Herod’s eyebrows lifted. “A king, huh? That’s interesting.” The innocent and naïve astrologers may not have caught it, but we can almost feel the blood begin to boil in King Herod’s royal veins. Our passage tells us that he was “afraid, and all Jerusalem Jerusalem
Historians of the period assure us that this Scriptural image of Herod as insane is more than melodrama. Herod was mentally unbalanced, and dangerous. But he was revered by the people because of his ability to keep some semblance of order and even progress in a period of great turmoil, and, more importantly, for his effectiveness in keeping the old light of Jewish nationhood lit even when there seemed to be so little fuel. Herod was more than a vassal king: he was a bearer of the old light in an age of darkness, and he guarded its flame with a vigilance that bordered on the pathological.
We, too, tend to be people who guard the old light in our lives. It’s human nature to defend and protect our past accomplishments. Each of us, no matter where we are from or who we are related to or how much we have, has a little Herod in themselves. Each of us is threatened by strange knocks on our doors at unexpected times, or by calls to acknowledge a new light shining from beyond the walls of our own Jerusalem
The Sunday on or before January 6th each year we designate at “Epiphany Sunday.” It is the day on which we read the story of these three “wise men” from the East coming to visit the baby Jesus. It is called “epiphany” because the visit of these three astrologers was the beginning of the “epiphany” or “manifestation” of the glory of Jesus to the nations. These three foreigners caught a glimpse of the Jewish Messiah—they crashed the family party and saw the host in a way that no one else was quite able to see him. It was their very lack of familiarity with the life of this family that enabled them to see Jesus in a new and unique way, a way which threatened Herod and guardians of the old light in a way they could not have anticipated.
On Epiphany, we celebrate these new perspectives brought by foreigners and other kinds of outsiders when they peer into the stable, or when they knock on our doors, innocently asking for admittance to our family party. We are, of course, free to be like Herod, raising our eyebrows, cherishing bitterness in our souls, scheming to undermine their perspectives and protect our own. But, in faith, we honor the new light on our savior that these strangers shed because in faith we know that God has sent them for that very purpose. Initially, their strange appearance and their (to our minds) odd way of thinking may turn us off, or even frighten us. But we know that God is bringing light from the east, and the west, and the north, and the south, to our table all the time. God is providing other people, people different from ourselves, to teach us who we are, what gifts we can share, ways in which we can grow.
One definition of insanity, I’m told, is keeping on doing the same things we’ve always done and expecting different results. The truth is, for personal well-being as human beings and for success as a church, we all need new light, fresh perspectives on ourselves and on the God has come to be among us.
This new year is an opportunity to embrace the new light streaming our way rather than turning from it. Let us take hold of it: welcoming new perspectives on ourselves rather than fearing them, consciously and deliberately dropping our defensiveness when outsiders ask questions or probe for reasons why we think or act as we do. Let us do more than “tolerate” differences this year: let us go so far as to open ourselves to the ways God is growing us, making us richer and better equipped for life, through the insights and experiences of other people.
Maybe a new boyfriend or a new girlfriend, or a new spouse or a new child, will show up at your home sometime this year. Maybe we will have astrologers or other “seekers” showing up at our church doors this year, looking for the light of God. What will do?
Epiphany is a call to acknowledge what God is doing among us, and among people who are different from us. The new year is an opportunity to respond to it. So let us learn to open our eyes and see good possibilities in every stranger; let us open our hearts to the ways in which God is being revealed to all who come to the stable. In the name of God, our creator and redeemer. Amen.
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