Jeremiah 31:7-14
Psalm 84
Ephesians 1:3-6, 15-19a
Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem,  asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage."  When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him;  and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born.  They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:  'And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.'"  Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared.  Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Good morning. Merry Christmas!

You know, there’s some pressure on me to produce good numbers, just like there’s pressure on corporate types to produce good profit figures. People ask me (the Bishop asks me), “Is the church growing? Are more people coming?” In the next few weeks, we will be working on the Annual Parish Report, which is filed with the national Church. One of the most important numbers in the Annual Parish Report is “Average Sunday Attendance.” Don’t think that just because we’re not predicting quarterly profits, there’s no pressure to produce favorable numbers.

And while I certainly should be immune to that pressure, I’m not, so I confess that I want attendance to be up as a sign that we’re doing well. And (apart from the numbers) I do have a more noble sentiment (thank God!); I really want people to come to church to encounter Christ. Furthermore, I have to tell you, I don’t really understand why anyone would not want to be part of a loving community that worships God in beauty and holiness, so I often feel like I’m trying to tell people about something wonderful and freely offered, and I’m frustrated and mystified when they don’t get it. It feels like I’ve extended the invitation in a language they don’t understand.

The point is, in light of all that, I am sometimes tempted (no, let me be honest, I am often tempted) to try to get people here by using the language I think they will understand, the language of self-interest, self-satisfaction, and comfort: “Come to church. It’ll be fun and easy so just give it a try.” I mean after all, we all remember Christmas Eve — our vision of a sweet baby in a manger, “Silent Night” sung by candlelight — what could be easier than coming to worship the baby Jesus?

And then, we get the story of the wise men. Their journey is, I believe, a metaphor for the journey each of us must make, over and over, to worship the baby Jesus. And it doesn’t strike me as a journey about which I would say, “Oh, it’s fun and easy, so give it a try.”

The first thing to note is that this story could easily have read, “A new star rose, but most people were looking down, so only a few saw it; and the ones who did didn’t think God could have anything to do with it, so nothing happened. The end.” These wise men are, physically and spiritually, looking up; they are open to God sending them a sign, to God being part of their lives.

And that has immediate implications. They are immediately called to leave home, leave where they are comfortable, and take a long, hard, and dangerous journey. And, on top of that, it is a journey to a foreign land to pay homage to a king of not-their-people, not-their-religion. They are called to move, to change, and to accept the possibility that God might be working in unexpected places, in unexpected ways, in the “wrong” people.

And then, they followed the star. Now, that seems to me to be something that’s probably easier to do in theory than in practice. Stars are way up there in the sky, and what about in the daytime, when you can’t see the stars? It’s not hard to tell that a new star is rising and you should head west, but to follow it, to know exactly where to go, seems pretty tough.

You’ve probably all heard the joke that if they’d been three wise women, they’d have stopped and asked for directions, and they would have been there in time for the birth. The story itself hints at how hard it can be to follow a star; they come first to Jerusalem, the wrong city. Bethlehem is not far away, but, hey, they missed it. In any event, I sympathize with them because I find that trying to follow God’s direction for my life is not always very easy. I find that I’m often saying, “Well, I know it’s over there somewhere, but where over there?” But they went, and they did not give up.

And on their journey, they encountered evil. People who think that a religious journey will be a sanctuary from evil don’t get it at all. Listen to the tension set up in the first line of the story: “In the time of King Herod [a Roman puppet who claimed to be king of Judea], wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?” Their journey is a challenge to corrupt power, and Herod knows it. He lies to them, tries to use them, and ultimately orders the murder of all the little boys in Bethlehem. Their journey takes them into the gaping jaws of evil. But they do not cooperate with it.

Then they arrive. Now, Matthew’s account doesn’t have Luke’s familiar stable; Matthew says “house.” Maybe by that time, a room had opened up in the inn, or someone had taken them in, I don’t know. But what is clear is that Matthew does not say that they arrived at the “palace,” or the “castle,” or the “mansion” or the “royal residence.” Notice that the wise men, almost unbelievably, accept that this long, arduous, journey to honor a king could end at a stable, or an inn, or maybe even some kind ordinary person’s house. They accepted that God could work in such humility.

And when they get there, they bring gifts. Now, there is a lot that can be said about these gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but suffice it to say that they are gifts fit for a king.

So, this is all pretty serious, this following God’s will, and being willing to change, and encountering evil, and then, to top it off, to have to fork over gifts fit for a king. So how do they react? With grim satisfaction, confident that they had performed their duty with adequate determination? Well, no. “When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.” Overwhelmed with joy. Joy is different from “fun,” or “happy.” “Fun” and “happy” are fleeting emotions, temporary ways of feeling, but joy is deep-seated; joy connects with our being. I see people at funerals who are certainly not happy, who are very sad that their loved one has died, but who are joyful in the knowledge that their loved one is in God’s loving embrace. Surely the wise men would not describe their journey as “fun,” but they are “overwhelmed with joy.”

So, I think the journey of the magi, our journey, reminds me that when I fall prey to the temptation to try to attract people by telling them that worshipping Jesus will be “fun and easy, so give it a try,” I’m diminishing the faith; I’m turning it into a jingle, or a club membership, or a hobby. I should say, “I’d like to invite you to learn to keep your head up spiritually, to be alert for God’s direction for your life. I’d like to invite you to take a journey that involves moving, changing, being open to God working in unexpected places and ways and people.” I should say, “I’d like to invite you to struggle to follow God’s will for you, your star, even when it’s confusing, for there is surely something holy in the quest itself. I’d like to invite you to encounter evil, because it will be opposed to your journey. I’d like to invite you to find God in a humble place, and to bring gifts, your treasure, fit for a king.”

So the journey of the magi reminds me that when I invite people to church, I shouldn’t say, “Come on. Try it. It’ll be fun and easy.” I would say, “if you want a life full of change, and challenge, and compassion, and meaning, and overwhelming joy, join us here, as we look up, and struggle to follow the star that God shines for each one of us.

But, if all you want is a ‘fun, easy’ life, you’ve come to the wrong place. And, let me warn you — if all you want is a fun, easy life, be careful — don’t look up — that star is dangerous.”

The Rev. James H. Pritchett, Jr. St. John’s Episcopal Church, College Park, GA

Home