Epiphany 1997
January 5, 1997
W.H. Auden wrote many things that seem to speak to our situation. One written fifty years ago was called “For The Time Being.” Listen to his words: “Well, so that is that. Now we must dismantle the tree, putting the decorations back into their cardboard boxes -some have broken. The holly and the mistletoe must be taken down and burnt. There are enough leftovers to do, warmed up, for the rest of the week – not that we have much appetite, having drunk a lot, stayed up so late, attempted quite unsuccessfully – to love all our relatives, and in general grossly overestimated our powers. Once again, as in previous years, we have seen the actual vision and failed to do more than entertain it, as an agreeable possibility – the Christmas feast is already a fading memory. And for the time being, here we all are . . . In the meantime, there are bills to be paid, machines to keep in repair, the time to redeem from insignificance.
Somehow, Auden’s words seem to fit with my mood. After every great celebration, there is that inevitable feeling expressed by the words: “Well, so that’s that:’Is that all there is?” After putting everything away, taking back the presents that don’t fit, and going back to the day-to-day routines, the task that lies ahead of us, as Auden said, is to redeem the time being from insignificance.
I suppose the early church faced this same problem. This might be why they inserted the story of the visit of the Wise Men. Much as I hate to say this, the story of the Wise Men has no historical basis. There is no record of three persons meeting with Herod, following a star, bringing gifts twelve days after the birth. None of this happened. It’s simply an apocryphal tale based on the prophecy of Isaiah. What’s even more amazing is that the story is better known than most other parts of the Gospels. If you ask 90% of people who have gone to Sunday School, they will tell you: There were three kings, Gaspar, Melchoir, and Balthazar, who traveled by camel twelve days after… the birth to bring gifts to the Christ child. Matthew is the only writer who mentions these three, and he never calls them kings. Magi is the word he uses. Never does he mention them by name, and there is no mention of camels. So much for the validity of our memories. Yet the interesting thing is we keep coming back to this fanciful story and retelling it again and again. Is it that this story speaks to a deeper meaning than the facts would support? is it that this story stretches out the birth story in such a way that it speaks to our longings and our dreads? is it that the story of the Wise Men is a way to redeem the times following the festivities of Christmas?
Let me suggest two ways this story might connect with our hearts and expand our faith. On one level, we might discern a deeper meaning in why Matthew tells this story. Matthew identifies these three as strangers – foreigners, different – the implication being that Jesus comes to more than the local inhabitants of Bethlehem.
Before Christ came we are reminded that outsiders had been labeled as social deviants. They were called “The Uncircumcised.” People who were aliens to the citizenship of Israel were thought of as outsiders to the covenant, not worthy of God’s love. Their dislocation had been illustrated physically by being separated from the court of the Jews in the temple in Jerusalem. There were signs on the wall, “No stranger is to enter with an ale barrier and the fence around the sanctuary. Whoever is caught will be answerable for his death, which will ensue.” But the early church, under the leadership of Paul, who greatly influenced the writer of Matthew’s Gospel, wanted to break down this barrier. You’ll recall Paul’s famous words: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, male nor female, slave nor free. We are all one in Christ.” The great sin of the church has always been “exclusivity” – barriers that separate people. Right at the beginning of his Gospel, Matthew reminds us that Jesus is here for everyone.
Inclusion, not exclusivity, is what Jesus was all about.
A few years ago, the Episcopal church came up with a slogan – “There are no outcasts in the church.” We haven’t always acted in that way. But if we were to understand what Matthew was attempting to tell us in this story, we truly would see the church as the place where all are welcome, and where there are no aliens or outcasts. And believe me, this would go far in redeeming our times.
The second reason this story is important to our understanding of the Christian faith is that it says: if you want to find God, if you want to encounter Jesus, you will do as the Wise Men and go on a journey. Follow a star. This theme of journeying into the unknown is central to the Christian faith. And yet, it seems as if we could do anything, believe almost anything, follow almost anybody, if we could avoid this journeying.
The collision between what historic Christianity teaches and our own inclination is illustrated in the contrast between Herod and the Wise Men. Herod stays home. He says, “Let me know if you find him.” Basically, he doesn’t want to risk leaving the known for the unknown. He fears mystery. The Wise Men are taking the leap of faith and getting strangely little aid. There may not be anything out there. But for them, life is an adventure, and religion is about journeying, and faith involves choosing to follow something like a star. Those who walk in faith must risk going along an unknown pathway . . . and then every moment in time is seen as an opportunity to encounter the infinite that lies hidden in the finite.
Well, I think you get the picture. The Wise Men may never have traveled the earth. Matthew may be a storyteller in the Jewish tradition rather than a historian in our Western mode.
But the meaning and the reason he introduced us to these three strange characters seems fairly clear, and after the birth it seems to make sense to stretch our understanding of the mission and scope of the Christ child, and how we might view the time following our celebrations as an opportunity to reach out and encounter the infinite as we journey.
What I’ve tried to do this morning is to give you a little lesson in Bible study – a way to view the Scriptures which might speak to your lives with new meanings. There seems to be a resurgence of Bible study. The question I hear most people asking is, “Did it really happen? How accurate are these stories?’ I would like to suggest that these are the wrong questions. It’s not, “Did it really happen in this way?”, but rather, “How does this speak to where I am, and what did it mean to the early church?” The bottom line is, “Does it help me on my journey?”
Marcus Borg, who spoke here in Tucson about a month ago, is part of the Jesus seminar. This is a group of biblical scholars who are trying to determine what parts of the Gospels really happened, and what were later additions. Ultimately, Borg often reminds groups, this is not of prime importance. The way he explains this seeming contradiction is to quote an old Indian sage. This old man always started his stories with these words: “I don’t know if it actually happened in this way, but this I do know. It is true.”
And so today I would leave you with these words: I don’t know if there were Wise Men or not. Probably not. But this I do know – it is true. And for the time being, that’s all I need to know . . . Amen.