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“Home by another Way: Part II”
Well it pleases me to be here But Herod’s always out there It’s best to go home by another way, home by another way. (From “Home by Another Way” by James Taylor on the Album “Never Die Young”) Today is Epiphany on the church’s calendar. Epiphany is the day that Christians for thousands of years celebrated the visit of the magi. Epiphany essentially means “shining,” not in the sense of the horror movie, but in the sense that a guiding light has dawned on humanity. Wise men follow that new guiding light, that “star of wonder,” and ignore the hawkers of darkness, the Herod’s of this world. In a nutshell, the magi came looking for Jesus and when they found him, they weren’t about to betray him. Once you’ve found Jesus, once that light has dawned on you, there simply isn’t any way you can go back to Herod and his darkness. No way. You have to go home another way. And it’s not like you can’t go back because you’d break some rules. You can’t go back because now that light has dawned on you and you know what the truth is, you don’t WANT Herod’s darkness, his lies. You don’t want to go Herod’s way. You want to go home another way – Jesus’ way. Because the wise men were, indeed, wise, and made the right choice, we have Epiphany to celebrate. If they had chosen to go back and do Herod’s bidding, if they had chosen the power route, the prestige route, we wouldn’t be here today. One of the most popular Christmas carols is “We Three Kings of Orient Are.” (Remember what you sang as a child? We three kings of orient are/tried to smoke a rubber cigar/it was loaded and exploded/we two kings of orient are . . . until the last cigar explodes and you sing “silent night.”) Up to this point, my favorite version of this great carol is Mannheim Steamroller’s arrangement on their first Christmas album. It’s a great carol and it evokes many fine images of richly dressed royalty bowing at the rustic cradle of a peasant baby surrounded by all sorts of animals in that little stable behind the inn where there was no vacancy. Those images, though, are products of a collective imagination over the many years of Christmas tradition. Fred Craddock tells about the first time he preached on Epiphany. He stood up in front of the congregation in the little rural church where he started out and said, “Today, we’re going to consider the visit of the three wise men.” He had barely opened his mouth to continue when an old time stood up in the back. “Preacher! What makes you think there were three? The Bible doesn’t say anything about three.” Craddock closed his mouth feeling a bit flustered. Several thoughts hit him at once. First, why is this guy standing up in the middle of a sermon and interrupting me? Is this a tradition at this church? Do I really want to stay here if it is? Then he looked down at the text. Surely, the text never says how many wise men there were. So, Craddock cleared his throat. Okay, if they want it that way, I’ll give it to them that way. “It’s just tradition,” he said. “In fact, Matthew has nothing of a stable and animals, either. And nothing about the baby Jesus not crying. And nothing about Mary and Joseph giving the baby presents. No Christmas tree. And! And! If you read the text – and you don’t have to read carefully – you’ll discover that the magi went to a house. There ain’t a stable, and no mention of an inn.” Well, just who were these magi? “Magi” is plural for “magus.” A magus could have been several things, including a magician, and in most passages where a magus is mentioned in the NT, he’s a nefarious character. The magi of Matthew, however, were non-Hebrew. Matthew goes out of his way to tell us that they were from the East, which means beyond Arabia or Mesopotamia. They were most likely from Persia, or modern day Iran. In that culture, the magi were scholars who studied science, history, politics and social sciences. They were adjuncts to the royal courts and were indispensable to the task of governing. In other words, calling them “kings” wouldn’t be far wide of the mark. Certainly, due to their education in science, politics and religion, they would have also been wise. They were – ahem – wise men. And who was Herod? He was the prototypical governmental ruler, possessing of much more ego than skill. He’d done quite a bit of good for the Jews of the first century and had virtually rebuilt Jerusalem single-handedly from a century of neglect. He’d built new buildings, sports arenas, roads, aqueducts, and had even restored the temple. That made him popular. But Herod was also the kind of guy who couldn’t stand to hear contrary viewpoints, only gave invitation-only press conferences, and used religious language only to secure his political base. For example, when the magi arrive and they inquire about one born king of the Jews, Herod feels an internal burst of anxiety, but keeps a cool political head! Herod actually only wants to rid himself of a rival, but it simply wouldn’t do for a politician to be honest about his actual intent. No, wrap it in religious language, the language of Zion, and you’ll be able to get the good folk to do your bidding. “You’re seeking the one born to be king of the Jews? How wonderful!” (Can you hear the sing-song lilt in Herod’s voice?) “Listen, I wholeheartedly endorse your search. You go and find him. And would you do me a kindness? When you find him, come and tell me as soon as you can, because I want to go worship him, too.” Well the wise men, the magi, leave knowing that they’ll have to make a choice. When they see Jesus and worship him, when they bow before him, when they give their gifts to him, their choice becomes clear. Now, it’d be easier to go through Jerusalem, more fun to go back, tell Herod what he wanted to know, and then party with all the dignitaries, senators and lobbyists. Get slapped on the back by the high and mighty. Take golf trips to Scotland. The magi, though, aren’t called wise for nothing. Unlike so many others who’ve never worshiped Jesus, these guys see through Herod’s flowery talk. Religious language expressed with sweet tones doesn’t fool them. They know that in order to be faithful to the Christ child, they have to ignore Herod. They know that in order for Christ to grow to maturity, they’ll have to go home by another way. Don’t go back through the halls of power. Don’t go back and touch base with the rich folk in the city. Cut cross country. Avoid the interstate and you won’t get weighed. Go home by another way. And that’s what they did. And because of that choice, men and women, you and I sit here today enjoying the possibility of an abundant life. But here’s the kicker: Herod’s still out there and he still doesn’t care about the innocents. He’s the one who makes you feel fat so you’ll buy his diet drink. He’s the voice that makes you feel ugly so you’ll buy his clothes. He’s the one who suggests that you’re prudish so you’ll sell off your virtue. Herod is a consumer culture that still believes that violence begets peace, or that life consists in an abundance of possessions, and that vengeance solves anything at all. That’s Herod. He’s still out there. Well what does this have to do with us, you might ask. Well, have you ever wanted to make a difference in the world? Have you ever wanted to find an occupation that isn’t just a job but does something to make the world a better place? Have you ever wanted to be the best husband or wife you could possibly be? Have you ever wanted to be the best parent you possibly could be? Have you ever been tired of conventional religion and the frequent pettiness that often constitutes doing conventional church? Have you ever wanted to know God and learn more about the mysteries that socket the universe which surrounds us? Have you ever longed for a life that means more than just a faint tracing across the surface of mystery? If you can answer yes to any of those questions, then you’re on the camel with the magi. |
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