Epiphany Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Matthew 2: 1–12
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer.

Every one of us, I think, remembers some particularly beautiful pageant of elegantly attired Wise Men coming from the East to present exotic gifts to the newborn Jesus. In a way, that’s the whole point of this Epiphany story — that it took Gentile scholars, outsiders, coming from foreign courts themselves – to recognize a king when they saw one. So it is only right that they be dressed sumptuously, exotically — like the foreign dignitaries they were.
For me that most memorable pageant came as a gift from a woman in the parish who loved to sew and did crafts too. So when Linda offered to make the costumes of the Magi one year I was most grateful. I knew she would do something special – and just for once I wouldn’t be trying to finish a sermon and pull off an Epiphany pageant all on the same weekend. But even I never expected the beautiful costumes she created. Somewhere she had found satin and silk, velvet and fur – and had stitched those fabrics together into costumes that really were fit for kings and their courtiers. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The children wearing those costumes and carrying those elaborate jewel boxes suddenly stood taller, walked more regally and delivered their lines perfectly. Trust me; this was not my experience every year!
And if the Magi’s appearance here in Georgia had that effect on us, who already knew the story – imagine the effect it must have had on the citizens of Jerusalem, when those foreign dignitaries marched into their city and asked, “Where is he who is born King of the Jews?  For we have seen his star from the East and have come to worship him.”  No one could miss the regal bearing of these visiting dignitaries, or the authority of their question. But every person in Jerusalem realized that Herod, the king, would allow no competition – even from a newborn child.
For Herod was a tyrant, a cruel and paranoid tyrant. He’d already had his first wife executed – and had murdered three of his own children, fearing they were about to take his throne. Now no one knew what he would do with this question posed by the foreign scholars; but everyone feared his reaction would be violent. So yes, all Jerusalem trembled as they waited to see what would happen.
But these Magi, these visiting scholars from Persia, had one thing going for them, besides their fine clothes and regal bearing. You have probably heard them called astrologers, and they were. They studied the heavens, looking for signs and portents, clues to the mysteries of life. But they also studied sacred texts – sacred texts from all over the world — to help them interpret what they were seeing in the heavens. They weren’t themselves believers in the God of Israel, but they had read the writings of the prophet Isaiah, who was a believer. And when that great new star appeared in the West, seeming to hover over Judea, they turned to his writings to learn what it might portend.
And there, in a poem Isaiah wrote in Jerusalem around 580 BC, they found this verse:
Arise, shine; for your light has come . . .
The Lord will arise upon you,
and his glory will appear over you.
Isaiah 60: 1–2
Back in 580 BC, Isaiah recorded these prophetic words to encourage the exiles who had just come back to Jerusalem from Babylon. They had returned to find Jerusalem in shambles, its economy destroyed, with no clear hope for the future. So Isaiah’s prophecy encouraged them:
Nations shall come to your light,
      and kings to the brightness of your dawn . . .
the wealth of the nations shall come to you.
(vv.3,5)
And it’s not just any kind of wealth that will arrive. More specifically, Isaiah prophesies that great camel caravans from Asia will stream into Jerusalem, bringing gold and frankincense, “and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.”   (v. 6b)
Do these details now begin to sound familiar?  Camel caravans arriving from the East . . . illuminated by a great light . . . and laden with exotic gifts?  Of course, they do – for we just heard those details in our Old Testament lesson. In fact, this was the very prophecy that prompted the Persian Magi to look toward Jerusalem as they sought the newborn king whose star they had just discovered. These were the words that had prompted them to bring gold and frankincense and myrrh – the exotic goods of the East. And this was the text they were trying to stay faithful to, as they enquired around Jerusalem as to where, exactly, this new king might be found.
Now, Herod was cruel and unstable, but he was also crafty.  So, to answer these foreign scholars inquiring about the birth of a new king, Herod turned to his own scribes and scholars. “Where,” he asked them, “is a new King of the Jews to be born?  What do the prophets say?”
As you might imagine, the scribes had their hearts in their mouths, but they did know the answer to the question Herod was asking. “Sire,” they answered, “there is one other text from a small prophet, a country prophet named Micah, that says;”
But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah
      who are one of the little clans of Judah,
from you shall come forth for me
      one who is to rule in Israel,
whose origin is from old
      from ancient days . . .
and he shall be the one of peace.
(Micah 5:2–4)
And so it was, that against all odds, the Magi – despite their impertinent question – managed to leave Herod whole and in one piece. Evidently, their fine clothes, their vast education and their well–equipped caravan had fooled the mad king into thinking they were just like him. Or maybe, in his megalomania, he was flattered to think that they had come to him first – and now had become his agents in his effort to find – and destroy — the newborn king.
But God turned out to be trickier than Herod. And after the Magi had found the newborn king in Bethlehem, and presented their gifts to him, God warned them in a dream not to return to Herod. And they returned home, still safe, still sound, but by another way.
I think for us, on this first new weekend of a whole new era there are a couple of lessons here. It was Isaiah’s prophecy of a new and glorious Jerusalem, filled with power and riches, that first caught the Magi’s attention and persuaded them that the greatest city in Judah might be their ultimate destination.
But they never would have reached their goal if they hadn’t listened next to the words of a humbler prophet, a country prophet named Micah, whose words are all about beating swords into plowshares and not learning war anymore. His words persuaded them that shabby little Bethlehem, which at the time was nothing more than a dusty little village, was their better choice.
It must have taken some humility, some courage for these learned scholars to admit they’d been wrong, to admit their best efforts had not brought them where they wanted to go. But they swallowed their pride. They took the narrower road. They listened to the lesser prophet – and so they saved their lives.
Could it be that this humbler way, this more vulnerable way, this narrower way has something to tell us too?  Maybe it’s just the surprising way God does things. Never what we expected, but ultimately the best way home.
Amen.
 
Return to Sermons Home Page Top of Page