Rev. Michael Phillips’ Sermon – January 5, 2003

The story tells us that while the infant Jesus, the newborn, was still in Bethlehem he was visited by magi, as Matthew writes. Magi is a plural noun referring to men of learning, skilled in philosophy, mathematics, astronomy, and medicine, who attempt to ascertain the unseen forces and powers that direct the events around us. The story does not tell us that there were three magi, or what their names were, or that they rode on camels. These elements have all been attached to the tradition through informed imagination. The story does tell us, however, that the magi were from the East, and that they were led in their journey by a star.

A journey from the East in those days was no simple matter. The magi most likely rode camels, as the most effective means of transportation at the time. But a trip by camel was still not easy. The rider was exposed to the elements: heat, rain, and wind. There were no rest stops or diners along the route. They were dependent upon the ancient rules of hospitality to strangers for food, water, and lodging. In light of the arduousness of the trip, it is clear they were committed to accomplishing their task, or they would have turned back dozens of times.

Oddly enough the star did not take them directly to the infant, but led them first to King Herod who was in Jerusalem at the time. As the king who was currently occupying the throne, we can imagine his interest when the magi asked to see the one who is born King of the Jews. Yes, indeed, Herod replied, and when you find him, please do let me know too so that I can take the appropriate steps to “honor” his birth as well. Matthew reports that after the gifts were offered, the magi were warned in a dream not to return to Herod (thank God); and just to be safe, Joseph was also given a dream instructing him to take the mother and child to Egypt for a time until things cooled off.

The magi, the star, and the flight to Egypt appear only in Matthew’s gospel and we mustn’t confuse or conflate the other nativity gospel, Luke, with Matthew. Each gospel makes its own particular statement to its own proper audience.

Matthew, writing to a principally Jewish audience brings the three main theaters of the biblical story: the Jordan Valley (birth of Jesus,) the Nile Valley (retreat from Herod,) and the Mesopotamia Valleys (point of origin for magi,) into the nativity story of the Christ. He is hinting at a comprehensive, world wide understanding of the birth of Messiah, leaving out no one in the sweep of salvation. Each of the three river valleys is the setting for crucial stories to the Hebrew people. Abraham’s birth and much later, Babylonian exile occur in the Mesopotamia. Empire and Temple centered in Jerusalem take place is in the Jordan Valley. And finally, slavery by Pharaoh and release through the Red Sea, followed by Torah, find their setting in the Nile basin region. Matthew brings these three locations into his birth story of Jesus, and the point is not wasted on his knowledgeable and well-schooled Jewish audience.

The arrival of the magi introduces a foreign element, a non-Jewish element into the birth narrative. The Magi are foreigners, make no mistake. They are “other.” Not only that, but coming “from the East” which probably means present day Iraq, they are the descendants of former oppressors, the Babylonians. In the nativity story these children of former slaveholders are humbled by the birth of the infant king, offering him rich and symbolic gifts, as the story says, “… from their treasure.” There is a strand of theological thought that is centuries old by the time Jesus is born that sees the covenantal people of Yahweh serving as beacon to all the other people of the world. There is a tradition within Judaism that understands the role of the Jewish people as one of gathering all others into a single unit under a loving, generous, and just God.

We can see this tradition scattered throughout the biblical text. The Psalmist writes that “Jerusalem is a city built on a hill.” The prophet declares that people will stream to its light.” The theme then carries over into the early Christian world as evidenced by this text from The Revelation to John, “from every family, language, people, and nation, a kingdom of priests to serve our God.”

In spite of the vision of unifying all people, and for a variety of reasons, the Israelites we read about in the Hebrew scripture are unable to accomplish this difficult and daunting task. However, Matthew believes that with the birth of the Christ, this worthy and holy vocation, given to the Jewish people will at last be completed. Matthew knows that this tradition runs strong and deep within the hearts and minds of the community. It weighs heavily upon the leadership and the people that God’s hope for unifying humanity has never occurred. With the arrival of the Magi, rather than seeing them as outsiders or intruders, Matthew shows them to be the opportunity for a final push to bring God’s light and truth to everyone.

I wonder where that vision of unity for all of God’s people resides today. Is it here at Christ Church? Does it mean that we are to make everyone into a Christian, that we are to “baptize all people in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit”, which are the words and the vision with which Matthew concludes his gospel? Are we supposed to make everyone an Episcopalian? Here in America we are immersed in diversity. We are confronted by the “other” like no other nation on earth, or in history. We are a nation of immigrants, from virtually every corner of the globe. We are not alarmed to hear all sorts of languages being spoken around us. We are used to seeing hair color and skin color different from our own. Diversity is such an integral part of our life that we sometimes feel odd if we find ourselves in a room or at a meeting where everyone looks the same; looks like us. At such times we may think to ourselves, “Where’s everyone else?” We expect diversity.

The apostle Paul had a lot to say about the “other.” He was the self-proclaimed “apostle to the Gentiles,” apostle to the “others.” He spent most of his active ministry outside of Israel, in the countries we know as Turkey and Greece. His method was to begin preaching the Christ to the established Jewish community. But when they often, quickly, and regularly dismissed him, he then turned to the non-Jewish, or the Gentile community, to the “others,” where he found an eager audience. As you might suspect, Paul had a number of interesting comments regarding Gentiles. One of the most intriguing observations for me is that according to Paul, the Gentiles are necessary, even crucial, to the salvation of the Jewish people.

When dealing with the “other” it is so tempting, so easy to take a somewhat paternalistic approach. “Here, let me help you.” “Here, let me show you how this works.” “Here, let me tell you what is true.” In classical Christian vocabulary, evangelists “share” the good news of Jesus Christ. “You poor thing…never heard of Jesus? How I can help you!” The proselytizer has the truth, the right understanding, and an inside track on salvation. Their ministry is to help the “other” who has somehow been able to muddle through life without the divine gifts offered through the evangelist.

This is not Paul’s approach. Paul is fully aware that the majority of his fellow Jews who have rejected Jesus as Christ. Rather than carrying the truth, they have missed it. Their eyes were wide open, but they couldn’t see it. Therefore, says Paul, the gospel is being given to the Gentiles, Paul being one of the chief vessels. It is all part of God’s plan, he says. Once the Gentiles have embraced Jesus as Christ, and the new life he offers, the Jews will become so jealous that they will recognize their fault, and accept what God is doing in their lives and in the world. The gospel was first offered to the Jews, most of who turned away from it. It was then offered to the Gentiles, many of whom embraced it with enthusiasm, out of which the reluctant Jews will be drawn back.

The point Paul makes is that we need the “other,” not to save them, but to save ourselves. The nature of community is such that we cannot do it on our own. We cannot unify all people on our own. Whites need Blacks. Women need men. Adults need children. Christians need Jews. Jews need Muslims. Clergy need laity. The rich need the poor. Anglos need Latinos, etc., etc.

The point of community is not, “What can we teach them?”, or even “What can they teach us?”, but rather, “What can we learn together?” A theological movement coming out of Latino America called “Liberation Theology” attempted to negotiate the chasm between various groups of “others,” such as the “rich and the poor” or the “haves and the have nots.” Some political philosophies try to deal with the vast poverty of Latin America by replacing one segment of the population in the power and wealth structure with another segment. This approach seeks to turn the “poor” into the rich through revolution, by seizing the land and other assets of the rich and dividing them among the poor. This method is of no value since it merely changes characters in an equally unjust environment. “Liberation theology” derives its name from its efforts to liberate both rich and poor from the confines of their economic class, so that they can gain a level of appreciation and compassion for the context of the other, and cooperate toward a different way of living together. Rather than replacing an old, abusive history and power structure with a new, abusive history and power structure, liberation theology tries to get outside of the historical categories altogether and empower all sets of “others” in a mutually accessible process.

Let this sink in for a moment – Matthew, who is writing his gospel to a primarily Jewish audience, allows representatives of foreign power, the magi, to visit and develop a relationship with the infant Messiah, but frustrates the established Jewish power, Herod, in his sinister and unauthentic desires. The power of the Christ turns the Jewish King out, while building ties with the foreigners, with “other.” Imagine how the faithful, first century, Jewish reader felt when he or she heard this story about magi and Herod.

Something new is happening in Israel and in the world. The Christ liberates us from the prisons we make for ourselves and allows us to live creatively with all those, all those “others” who are ready for the same kind of freedom.

In His name, Amen.

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