The Rev. Ann R. Lougee
January 6, 2008
Following the Star
Isaiah 60:1-6 , Matthew 2:1-12

One way of finding meaning in scripture is to ask questions of it. We might start by using the journalist's strategy of asking who, what, where, when and why kinds of questions, not necessarily in that order.

So then, in Matthew's story, who are these strangers seeking the child? In the Greek text they are called "Magi," a word from which we get our words "magic," and "magician." The term Magi simply refers to individuals who possess knowledge that ordinary people don't, so they've also been referred to as "wise men." In this pre-scientific age, the knowledge that such people had would have included understanding natural phenomena and explaining them to common folk. Interpreting the movement of heavenly bodies through the skies would have been part of their mystique.

These strangers from the East also represent a long-standing Jewish resistance to Roman imperialism. In having them come a long way to "submit" to Jesus, the new-born king of the Judeans, Matthew is poking a finger in the eye of imperial Rome and its puppet kings.

Where do these strangers come from? They come from "the East" – the same direction from which most of Israel's conquerors approached, including Assyria, Babylon, and Persia, modern-day Syria, Iraq and Iran. The biblical story might give us pause as we ponder the meaning of visitors from the very places we seem to fear most in the world right now.

Perhaps we would get a better sense of the reaction of Matthew's earliest audience to this text about Magi from the East if we imagined a visit to our local church by religious or political leaders from that same part of the world. On top of that, imagine that these visitors break all sorts of rules that we have, rules that help us define who we are as a community. These "magicians," then, represent all sorts of problems for Matthew's audience.

And there are more associations with the East. East of Judea is the Tigris and the Euphrates, often called the cradle of civilization. East of Judea is the mythical Garden of Eden. East of Judea is Ur of the Chaldees, original home of Abraham, the foundation figure of Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

East of Judea is Babylon, where Jews had been taken into Exile after the destruction of Jerusalem and the first Temple. East of Judea is the Jewish community who stayed behind in Babylon when some Jews returned to rebuild the Temple and Jerusalem.

These Magi might have been among the Gentiles influenced by the remaining Jews to sense the goodness of the One True God. On this model, the Magi would have come from the East because they had been trained to raise their eyes to the horizon of God's activity in the world, trained by their association with the Babylonian Jewish community.

How did these strangers find their way to the new King of the Jews? They're sincere and persistent in their search, and, actually, not entirely "wise." One might suppose them to be veteran, sophisticated travelers, but what is striking is their candor and openness. Almost naïve, they seem to anticipate no difficulty in inquiring of Herod the king about the birth of a rival king.

So they almost naively follow the star, looking to nature for signs and guidance. It's not insignificant that they're helped by scripture, when they ask for directions from Herod and hear from the religious authorities who know right where to look for the answer.

There are many ways that we "find our way" to God,: nature does indeed point to the glory of God, the care of God, the presence of God, but we need scripture, too, and personal experience, and the community that helps us understand all those gifts. Then, like the Magi, we're drawn to worship the One we seek, which we see in the baby born King of Kings

Biblical scholar Thomas Long says that "the world is full of 'stars in the East' – events in nature, personal experience, and history that point toward the mystery of God… "but," he says, "we need "the defining and clarifying word of scripture" to "recognize these holy moments for what they are…to see God's face clearly in them."

Without scripture, he says, we would be like the wise men, "aware that something had happened, but we would not, without the revelation of God in scripture, know where or how to worship."

Just being a biblical scholar isn't enough, either: the chief priests and the scribes missed the meaning of the text, and Herod turns to scripture to use it for his own panicked purposes: "One can, like Herod, be in favor of studying the scripture and still be on the wrong side of God's will."

After who, where, and how, we ask why these strangers have made such a long and perilous journey (even their return trip started on a warning). In Matthew's story, they were driven by their anticipation of an event so important and so powerful that it drew them far from their home and called forth their generosity and their humble worship.

Now, in any age, we'd expect anyone wealthy enought to could afford to bring gold, frankincense and myrrh to be not in the habit of bowing down to little children in modest homes, in foreign lands. Yet once they reached their destination, Matthew says, they were "overwhelmed by joy," and then, the same power of God that drew them far from home sent them back again, by another way.

The simple questions that we ask of the text might then expand to include some more complex questions that have to do with our lives, such as the following: Have there been times when you felt you were seeking God in your life? When were they? Were they just at times of need or suffering, were they part of an intellectual search, or did they come from a deep, personal hunger for meaning? How faithful were you, and diligent, in the search?

How might the star in the Matthew reading represent nature as it "points" to God? I'm sure you've heard, as I have, that some people say they don't need church in their search for God, but find God in nature. How do you think people today can effectively seek God? What are the paths and things and methods that help people "find" their way to God?

Scripture is the guide that is ultimately helpful to the Magi, even thought provided by fearful and questionable religious authorities. Has Scripture, read in community and with study, ever provided guidance to you in your search, especially when other means have fallen short?

Back in Matthew's story, the wise men found the star alone insufficient as a guide, and they innocently turned to one king (a lesser, and evil one) for guidance to the real King. The response of King Herod was fear.

But fear was the response not only of this "power-that-has-been," but also from the religious establishment, and from "all Jerusalem." Fear is contagious! Think of all the times that fear has dictated our first response to something new, even something promising. What do we fear about newness?

The Isaiah 60 reading speaks of people rising up from wherever they have been pressed or pushed down, rising up to behold the light and glory of God over them. When and why do we fail to look up and see the glory of God over us?

Isaiah envisions broken-down Jerusalem seeing everything turned right side up with the wealth of other nations brought to it for the glory of God, not for its own glory. Isaiah's theme of homecoming includes strangers and foreigners and their gifts, "the wealth of nations." Matthew picks up on Isaiah's vision of non-Jews bringing gold and frankincense, issuing the great invitation that would go out, in the end, to "all nations."
Why does Matthew tell this story? Matthew obviously wants his audience to hear the Good News of God's universal and all-encompassing grace, even if they're offended, even if they're appalled that non-Jewish foreigners are included in the story. Matthew is giving a Gospel sneak preview: the Christ child who attracted these odd Magi to his cradle will later have the same magnetic effect on Samaritan adulterers, immoral prostitutes, tax collectors on the take, despised Roman soldiers, and ostracized lepers.

So, what do we hear in this story? We hear that God has sent a gentle ruler, a shepherd who will upset the powers-that-have-been. We hear that the smallest things, like a newborn baby, can terrify the arrogant, and bring them down in the end. We hear that the reach of God's grace goes far beyond every obstacle within or without, and pushes us beyond them, too. We learn that a great light has dawned, a light that draws all people and calls us to live our lives illuminated by its truth.

That's what the Epiphany season is about: the light has come and those who have been in darkness awaiting its arrival are called to greet that light and the new age that it inaugurates by shining themselves, reflecting God's glory in all the activities and relationships of everyday life. In other words, we are called to be the light of the world, following the one who John's gospel depicts calling himself the light of the world. We're called to let it shine! Amen.