The Wise Men
Sermon
Don't Forget The Child
Sermons For Advent And Christmas
"'Tis the week after Christmas; 'Tis the week after Christmas, and all through the house, not a package was still wrapped, not even a blouse. The stockings were picked up from the chimney where they fell. But, the children were fighting and starting to yell. Yes, fighting and yelling and shouting their dreads. The sugar they've eaten has gone to their heads! The excitement of New Year's is finally past. The bowl games are over. Back to normal, at last!"
It does seem as if the holidays are over, doesn't it? But, technically speaking, we're still in the Christmas season, until the Twelfth Day of Christmas, which is tomorrow. So there is still time to put the Wise Men in the crèche set (if there's any room for them!) and talk about them. On this, the Sunday closest to Epiphany, we generally think about the "Three Kings." For, tradition says it was on Epiphany that they arrived.
And, we all know the story of the Three Kings, don't we? Or, do we? Actually, the Bible doesn't exactly say that there were three. We get the idea of three from the mention of three gifts. Nor does the Bible actually say they were "kings," either. "Wise Men" is what these travelers are called.
One woman has said that these guys were "wise" simply because, unlike most men she knew, they were at least willing to stop and ask for directions! They were wise about that! But they were wise in other ways, too. They were probably very wise about the stars. The Magi were probably court astrologers from ancient Persia, which is modern-day Iraq. They might have been Zoroastrians, Medes, Persians, Arabs, or even Jews.
What they did for a living was to observe and study the sky. Then they interpreted the signs of the night sky for royal patrons. In those days, court astrologers were powerful people. The root for the word "magi" has the same root as the English word, "magic." The magi were believed to have magical powers. They were sophisticated, by the standards of their day, well-educated, and important individuals, accustomed to giving advice to royalty. They were important enough for King Herod, himself, known as "Herod the Great," to give them an audience right off.
In addition to being students of the stars, the Wise Men were also honest seekers. Think about what they went through to follow that star! They left their homes and families to go on a long and dangerous journey. They set off without knowing exactly where they would end up. Or how long they might be gone.
I wonder: how did they explain this trip to their wives? I can hear their wives, Mrs. Gaspar, Mrs. Melchoir, and Mrs. Balthshasar now. Mrs. Gaspar says, "You say you're going to follow a what?" Mrs. Melchior says, "And you can't tell us how long you'll be gone?!" Mrs. Balthshasar says, "And you're going off with Gaspar and Melchoir?! You know those two are always trouble! And besides, you promised that, after the first of the year, you'd be home every night for supper!"
Then there were the rigors of the journey itself. Through the burning sands and freezing nights of the Arabian desert, they followed the star. Rocking back and forth on the backs of their camels, they followed the star. Through sandstorms and windstorms, in danger of getting lost, in danger of attack by robbers, they followed the star. There must have been times when the light of that star seemed very dim. And they still weren't exactly sure where they were going. But they still faithfully followed the star.
Finally, they arrive at Jerusalem, the capital city, thinking that their long journey must be over. They were expecting a big celebration, torches lit, trumpets blaring, crowds dancing in the streets, rejoicing at the birth of a King. But not a soul is stirring. Even the birth of a puppy would have caused more excitement in Jerusalem than the birth of Jesus (Luther). After a brief visit with King Herod, the Wise Men push on.
They arrive at Bethlehem. And what do they find there? Just a dusty village. No royal palace, no royal entourage, no royal family. Just a couple of poor peasants in a stable out behind the inn with a little baby cradled in a manger.
What do you think the Wise Men thought and felt? Matthew says that "when they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy" (2:10 NRSV). And why not? The star had stopped. Their long and dangerous journey seemed to be over. They could climb off the camels. No more saddle sores, for a while!
But how do you think they felt when they saw what they did? How would you have felt? All that way to see a peasant baby laid in the straw in a feeding trough for cattle, surrounded by the smells and manure of the animals? How do you think they might have felt? Puzzled? Confused? Disappointed? Maybe a little let down? We'll never know. But we can well imagine.
Still, in faith, the Wise Men knelt down and worshiped. They laid their expensive gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh at the unknown baby's feet.
What are these Wise Men witness to? To me, they are witnesses to the riskiness of faith. We might well prefer a faith that is safe. C. S. Lewis speaks for a lot of us when he writes: "I am a safety-first creature. I am cautious and careful ... But," he continues, "if I am sure of anything, I am sure that Jesus' teaching was never meant to confirm my preference for safe investments and limited liabilities." He concludes, in faith there is no "safe investment ... Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung [out] and possibly be broken" (The Four Loves, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, pp. 168-169).
Speaking of our desire for a comfortable, risk-free faith, Wilbur Rees puts it another way: "I would like to buy $3.00 worth of God, please. Not enough [God] to explode my soul, or disturb my sleep ... just enough [God] to equal a cup of warm milk, or a snooze in the sunshine. I don't want enough [God] ... to make me love a Black man or pick beets with a migrant worker. No, I want ecstasy and not transformation. I want the warmth of the womb, not a new birth. I want a pound of Eternal in a paper bag. I would like to buy just $3.00 worth of God, please" (quoted by Tim Hansel in When I Relax I Feel Guilty, David C. Cook Publishing Co., p. 49).
It's very human to want a God who provides us with a lot of comfort, but little challenge. But we can't just buy "$3.00 worth of God." We've got to invest ourselves in the journey of faith. The journey has to mean something to us, and cost us something, as it did the Wise Men.
For it is often only after we travel through the wilderness of bewilderment, following the sometimes dim light in the darkness, and maybe even getting lost, but pushing on, that we can get wise to God's Surprise. The surprise is that the God we are seeking so hard is already seeking us. That the God we are looking for "out there" is already here and near.
The Wise Men sought God in the stars. They found God in a Baby. God reaches out to us in the simplest of things: in a Baby in a manger. In a table set with bread and wine.
The Dutch Benedictines have a rule that they teach their initiates. The rule concludes, "So never let yourselves lose heart, but go on seeking God in everything, [and] everybody ... they are all places that you will finally meet [the One who is seeking you]."
The three Wise Men took the risk of faith -- and discovered Emmanuel, "God with us."
Maybe that's why we call them "wise."
It does seem as if the holidays are over, doesn't it? But, technically speaking, we're still in the Christmas season, until the Twelfth Day of Christmas, which is tomorrow. So there is still time to put the Wise Men in the crèche set (if there's any room for them!) and talk about them. On this, the Sunday closest to Epiphany, we generally think about the "Three Kings." For, tradition says it was on Epiphany that they arrived.
And, we all know the story of the Three Kings, don't we? Or, do we? Actually, the Bible doesn't exactly say that there were three. We get the idea of three from the mention of three gifts. Nor does the Bible actually say they were "kings," either. "Wise Men" is what these travelers are called.
One woman has said that these guys were "wise" simply because, unlike most men she knew, they were at least willing to stop and ask for directions! They were wise about that! But they were wise in other ways, too. They were probably very wise about the stars. The Magi were probably court astrologers from ancient Persia, which is modern-day Iraq. They might have been Zoroastrians, Medes, Persians, Arabs, or even Jews.
What they did for a living was to observe and study the sky. Then they interpreted the signs of the night sky for royal patrons. In those days, court astrologers were powerful people. The root for the word "magi" has the same root as the English word, "magic." The magi were believed to have magical powers. They were sophisticated, by the standards of their day, well-educated, and important individuals, accustomed to giving advice to royalty. They were important enough for King Herod, himself, known as "Herod the Great," to give them an audience right off.
In addition to being students of the stars, the Wise Men were also honest seekers. Think about what they went through to follow that star! They left their homes and families to go on a long and dangerous journey. They set off without knowing exactly where they would end up. Or how long they might be gone.
I wonder: how did they explain this trip to their wives? I can hear their wives, Mrs. Gaspar, Mrs. Melchoir, and Mrs. Balthshasar now. Mrs. Gaspar says, "You say you're going to follow a what?" Mrs. Melchior says, "And you can't tell us how long you'll be gone?!" Mrs. Balthshasar says, "And you're going off with Gaspar and Melchoir?! You know those two are always trouble! And besides, you promised that, after the first of the year, you'd be home every night for supper!"
Then there were the rigors of the journey itself. Through the burning sands and freezing nights of the Arabian desert, they followed the star. Rocking back and forth on the backs of their camels, they followed the star. Through sandstorms and windstorms, in danger of getting lost, in danger of attack by robbers, they followed the star. There must have been times when the light of that star seemed very dim. And they still weren't exactly sure where they were going. But they still faithfully followed the star.
Finally, they arrive at Jerusalem, the capital city, thinking that their long journey must be over. They were expecting a big celebration, torches lit, trumpets blaring, crowds dancing in the streets, rejoicing at the birth of a King. But not a soul is stirring. Even the birth of a puppy would have caused more excitement in Jerusalem than the birth of Jesus (Luther). After a brief visit with King Herod, the Wise Men push on.
They arrive at Bethlehem. And what do they find there? Just a dusty village. No royal palace, no royal entourage, no royal family. Just a couple of poor peasants in a stable out behind the inn with a little baby cradled in a manger.
What do you think the Wise Men thought and felt? Matthew says that "when they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy" (2:10 NRSV). And why not? The star had stopped. Their long and dangerous journey seemed to be over. They could climb off the camels. No more saddle sores, for a while!
But how do you think they felt when they saw what they did? How would you have felt? All that way to see a peasant baby laid in the straw in a feeding trough for cattle, surrounded by the smells and manure of the animals? How do you think they might have felt? Puzzled? Confused? Disappointed? Maybe a little let down? We'll never know. But we can well imagine.
Still, in faith, the Wise Men knelt down and worshiped. They laid their expensive gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh at the unknown baby's feet.
What are these Wise Men witness to? To me, they are witnesses to the riskiness of faith. We might well prefer a faith that is safe. C. S. Lewis speaks for a lot of us when he writes: "I am a safety-first creature. I am cautious and careful ... But," he continues, "if I am sure of anything, I am sure that Jesus' teaching was never meant to confirm my preference for safe investments and limited liabilities." He concludes, in faith there is no "safe investment ... Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung [out] and possibly be broken" (The Four Loves, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, pp. 168-169).
Speaking of our desire for a comfortable, risk-free faith, Wilbur Rees puts it another way: "I would like to buy $3.00 worth of God, please. Not enough [God] to explode my soul, or disturb my sleep ... just enough [God] to equal a cup of warm milk, or a snooze in the sunshine. I don't want enough [God] ... to make me love a Black man or pick beets with a migrant worker. No, I want ecstasy and not transformation. I want the warmth of the womb, not a new birth. I want a pound of Eternal in a paper bag. I would like to buy just $3.00 worth of God, please" (quoted by Tim Hansel in When I Relax I Feel Guilty, David C. Cook Publishing Co., p. 49).
It's very human to want a God who provides us with a lot of comfort, but little challenge. But we can't just buy "$3.00 worth of God." We've got to invest ourselves in the journey of faith. The journey has to mean something to us, and cost us something, as it did the Wise Men.
For it is often only after we travel through the wilderness of bewilderment, following the sometimes dim light in the darkness, and maybe even getting lost, but pushing on, that we can get wise to God's Surprise. The surprise is that the God we are seeking so hard is already seeking us. That the God we are looking for "out there" is already here and near.
The Wise Men sought God in the stars. They found God in a Baby. God reaches out to us in the simplest of things: in a Baby in a manger. In a table set with bread and wine.
The Dutch Benedictines have a rule that they teach their initiates. The rule concludes, "So never let yourselves lose heart, but go on seeking God in everything, [and] everybody ... they are all places that you will finally meet [the One who is seeking you]."
The three Wise Men took the risk of faith -- and discovered Emmanuel, "God with us."
Maybe that's why we call them "wise."
