Since Epiphany Sunday was only a day before Epiphany this year, I thought I’d wait to post this week’s reflections until the actual day of Epiphany.
Matthew 2:1-12
Well, it’s Epiphany. The Twelve Days of Christmas have passed. Decorations have long-since been sent back to their boxes or will soon be on their way. The next big season is Lent, but in the meantime it’s back to ordinary green. In the meantime, we sit back, relax, and hear the early stories of Jesus’ ministry–his baptism, the sermon on the mount, and finally, the transfiguration. The first story of this season is familiar; we’ve all heard the story of the “wise men from the east” who came to worship Jesus shortly after his birth, and we’ve probably all heard it many times. So what’s so interesting about three guys with three gifts riding to Bethlehem on some camels?
Well, for one thing, we don’t actually know there were three of them or what they rode or whether they found Jesus in Bethlehem (or, if you like, whether there were additional, unmentioned gifts). Despite the usual portrayals of the “We Three Kings” standing beside the manger scene, accompanied by their trusty camel (which must have been a strong camel to carry all of them, actually), Matthew doesn’t tell us how many their were or how they got there, although camels might be a fair assumption. We’re also pretty sure Jesus was nearly two years old when they got there, so likely he wasn’t in a manger anymore and was possibly in Nazareth by this point.
But, if we’re honest, none of these details matter terribly, and they’re not what make the magi interesting. What’s interesting about the magi is that they were Zoroastrian priests.
Yes, you read that right–scholars are fairly certain that the word µαγοι, which normally refers simply to magicians, in this context refers to the priestly caste in Zoroastrianism, whose members were known for their knowledge of the stars. Which means the first people who come to worship the newborn Jewish Messiah, according to Matthew, weren’t even Jewish.
This is particularly interesting coming from Matthew, who spends the vast majority of his time insisting that Jesus is, indeed, the promised Messiah and that following him is the logical next step for Judaism. (He, of course, is writing when many factions within Judaism are competing for primacy shortly after the destruction of the Temple in 70 AD, so he wants to make very clear that Jesus came first and foremost for the Jews as their Messiah.) This is the same Matthew who constantly states that something Jesus has done has been done “to fulfill what was said by the prophet….” This is the same Matthew we expect may have been on James’ side in the argument with Paul about whether the Gentiles had to convert to Judaism before becoming one of Jesus’ followers. And yet, the first people Matthew has visit the Christ child are not Jewish.
Is he simply foretelling the fact that the majority of Jesus’ followers will eventually be Gentiles? Or, in a similar vein, is he assuring his Gentile readers that they are just as welcome in Christ’s church as the Jewish readers he’ll spend the rest of the gospel account speaking to? Or is it something more subtle?
You see, we’re never told that the magi become followers of Jesus. We’re never told that they convert to Judaism or that they ever hear any of Jesus teachings thirty years after they first meet him. We’re simply told they go home, evading Herod on the way. Presumably when they get home, they plan to return to their day-to-day lives of stargazing. Presumably they plan to remain Zoroastrian priests.
So why are they there? Perhaps to remind us that Jesus is a king. It’s not going to be clear from the story to come–he’s a carpenter’s son who will become an unusually charismatic teacher and unconventional interpreter of the Law, and he will die at the hands of the Romans for his revolutionary ideas. Hardly what you’d expect from the story of a king. In fact, we hear little indicating Jesus’ kingship at all until Pilate questions him before his crucifixion.
But these magi know a king when they see one. This child was utterly unknown to them, and the prophecies he would fulfill were irrelevant to their beliefs. They were probably surprised to find themselves not at a palace, but at a small house–probably just as surprised as the many who expected the Messiah to be an earthly king. But the stars had spoken and led them there, and they saw in the child a king, if not a kingly birth. They accepted the legitimacy of his authority and honored him as so many he later met would not.
Jesus isn’t their king, but he is still a king. The magi are the outsiders to the Christmas story; they come to visit, and they’ll leave soon after, never to be heard from again. They are the objective observers, if you will, outside the nation that longs for a Messiah and for freedom from foreign ruler after foreign ruler. They are the ones who can confirm the desperate hopes and the mysterious prophecies because even from outside that world they can see in the child a king and a catalyst for something new. They are the ones who first make us understand that this child is really, truly, the Messiah. They are the ones who first make clear that it wasn’t all a dream. They are the ones who tell us that now the work of Christmas begins.
Promised Messiah,
Remind us on this day of Epiphany that the Christmas story is not all a fantasy. Prepare us to study your words and teachings in the coming weeks with the knowledge that even magi who knew so little of you called you king and honored you. Teach us that not everything happens as we expect and that every life, no matter how seemingly obscure, can affect the world. Forgive us when we forget, when we ignore the ones we do not see and cling to the ones who fill the headlines. Guide us to follow your example in hearing every voice and seeing the value of every life. In your name do we pray, Amen.
Plagal Cadence 