Going Home by Another Road
Matthew 2:1-12
It happened again yesterday – denominalationism. At a memorial service at the nursing home, someone booed the mention of the Methodist Hymnal. I doubt they meant to be mean but it remninded me of when I was about 15 or 16. That is when I first became aware that Christians could be at odds – at enmity, refusing to commune – with one another, divided by understanding and interpretation of the Gospel. I asked my Sunday School teacher why such hatred and division if we are one in Christ and was told that that is what happens when we take our eyes, our focus, off Jesus. This is, I think, one of the points that Matthew makes with his story of the Magi.
This story, a Christmas favorite, is richly fanciful and laden with symbolism. The Evangelist, as any good storyteller, incorporates elements of mystery, humor, and duplicity as he jars his readers’ sense of complacency. It would actually have been quite shocking at the time – do you feel shocked or even moved by this story?
I wanted to address the symbolism in the gifts that the Magi brought – gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They speak so eloquently of the kingship of Christ, of the nature of a suffering servant whose tears cleanse and nurture those he loves, and of the sacrifice of death that opens the way to life eternal.
But there is another focus that piques my interest today – the role of the Magi and the nature of their journey. That haunting phrase at the end of the reading: “they left for their own country by another road,” challenged me as I thought about how often I have walked out at the end of a worship service, hardly scathed by the cutting of the two-edged sword of the Gospel. It is just too easy, too comfortable sometimes.
This week, the Standing Committee of the Diocese of Fort Worth blasted the Christmas card sent out by our Presiding Bishop, Katherine Jefferts-Schori, to the bishops of the Episcopal Church. It portrays the Christ child with Mary and three Magi – all women. Shocking! Fact is, there are some deep and shocking truths in Matthew’s story, and I owe much to Bishop Neil Alexander who pointed out for me the rich and challenging nature of this story in a sermon several years ago.
The Greek word used in the Gospel is masculine but it is also plural and therefore only indicates that at least one of the Magi was male. While the translations and legends which surround this tale have given us names such as kings, wise men, philosophers, astronomers, and astrologers, the fact remains that we know little more about them than they were from the East. The term ‘magi’ actually gives us the English word magic.
The Magi came from the east and started asking questions around town. “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? We have followed his rising star and we have come to give him honor.” Who are these people? Where are they from? How did they get involved in this story? King Herod was clearly shaken by it and tries to get the Magi to help him locate the child. These strange foreigners find the child; overwhelmed by what they find, they fall on their knees in worship and adoration. Like the shepherds in Luke’s nativity story, they realize that their world is changing, something new is happening. Then in a dream, they receive a warning to evade Herod. Another angel warns Mary and Joseph to take the baby and escape south to Egypt until Herod is dead and their return home is safe.
This wonderful story, full of emotion and intrigue, provides inspiration for art, poetry, and song. Few stories told through the centuries are so familiar, so beloved, and so rich with pathos and delight. This is the stuff from which children’s nativity pageants are made: shepherds in robes with ropes around their waists; Mary in her gown holding the infant and Joseph looking bewildered by it all; angels in white robes and foil halos, and wise men in colored bathrobes with Burger King crowns on their heads. The story unfolds and it ends on a glorious note when the Magi arrive and worship Christ the newborn king. It warms our hearts and we feel comfortable and satisfied.
The story is so very familiar, but our Christmas focus has domesticated it until the point the evangelist is making is lost to us. Matthew first told this story of the birth of Jesus for new Christians, for new followers of the Way. Even in this young first century church, it seems that their vision was beginning to narrow. The boundaries of their community were closing around them and they perceived others as different, as strangers. Matthew saw that the new believing community was settling into the idea that this new life in Christ was for them and they were too easily willing to put others outside, to exclude those who were different than they.
Matthew shocks his readers right from the first verse of his gospel by recounting the genealogy of Jesus in a way that must have confounded those who first read it. A genealogy was commonly traced through the male lineage but Matthew includes four women in his list. And they were not just any four women – they were women whose lives bore the scars of prostitution, incest, and adultery. Matthew is not only showing prophecy fulfilled but is revealing that the new day that is dawning is quite different from what the Jews were expecting.
Matthew continues that theme when he introduces the Magi. While we often call them wise men, that is a status that would have been unrecognized by Matthew’s readers. To them they would have been as sorcerers, as gypsies in southern Europe. In Rome in the 80s, I recall being on the subway when several gypsy women and children got on the car. Immediately everyone else – except us unknowing Americans – got off. This is likely the type of feelings that the Magi would have evoked among the faithful believers in this early church. Some have suggested they were philosophers; others have called them astrologers because of their fascination with the stars. But whoever they were and wherever they were from, Matthew’s point is that they are not from here; these are not hometown folks, with hometown values, and hometown upbringing. These were odd fellows from some foreign land, the kind of folks that the Scriptures warn good religious people to stay away from. The first hearers of Matthew’s story of Jesus would not have had such warm, fuzzy feelings when the Magi fell to their knees before the manger-throne of the King of Kings. Quite the opposite! Matthew’s readers would have been scandalized by the audacity of three strangers from a foreign land who would dare to show up in their hometown to worship and adore their newborn king. “We can’t have this!” would have been their first response, and it was precisely the response that Matthew was hoping for.
Matthew had them where he wanted them, and now begins to unfold the rest of the story of Jesus. He could remind his readers – as he continues to remind us – that the saving word of God, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, is not for some, but for all. Not for men only, but also for women. Not for the perfect only, but for those whose lives bear the scars of unmentionable human pain. Not for the hometown crowd only, but for those on the other side of the tracks, the next town over or halfway around the world. Not for those who believe just like we do, but also for those who are struggling to believe anything at all, or those who have lost their faith. And here is the challenge to our own readiness to separate and elevate ourselves, to distance ourselves from those who differ from us, whatever the reason.
As followers of the Way, we are invited to shock the complacent world in which we live, to challenge the prejudices and cruelty which easily beset us. We are invited to follow the path of the Magi – to observe the signs in nature that point us to the Lord of New Life, to seek understanding in the scriptures, and to come into his presence, bearing our gifts. If we are truly wise, we will let these encounters sharpen us, develop our inner being; strengthen our new life in the Kingdom of God. And when we go home, we will be changed and, having found new life in Christ, we will follow another road. “Search diligently for the child” – he will be found.
The Rev. John Burton
January 6, 2008
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