Gospel text: Matthew 2:1-12
Supplementary texts: Isaiah 60:1-6; Ps 72:1-7,10-14; Ephesians 3:1-12
Here we are at Epiphany – the end of the twelve days of Christmas, or Christmastide. Tomorrow, the Christmas trees come down, the decorations are removed, and everything is put away for another year.
However, for Christians, Christmas never really comes to an end. The gift of Christmas is for a lifetime, not a season.
Part of that continuity shows in the fact that we close Christmastide with “Little Christmas”, to give Epiphany one of its quainter names. And Little Christmas, of course, has gifts of its own.
Although there are so many messages that we can take from the Epiphany story, as I read and re-read the tale, two things keep leaping from the pages at me. Firstly, the enormity of God, which shines through all this passage. Secondly – and in its way, no less important – is the question: How can we best respond to that vastness?
The first glimpse of the sheer scale of the story comes from looking at who the wise men actually were.
We have a tradition that they were kings, and we have a tradition that there were three of them. Neither tradition is bad, just not particularly biblical.
The idea of “three” comes from the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh; the theory being that they tidily brought one gift each. That’s in our Western Christianity. In Eastern Christianity, they are generally assumed to have been twelve wise men. Of course, both three and twelve are numbers rich with symbolism in Hebrew culture.
The tradition of calling them kings wasn’t well established until the third century. It doesn’t come out of the Biblical narrative, but it does come out of the fact that many of the prophecies the Magi are held to have fulfilled mention “kings”. In honesty though, that assumes a specificity and exactitude that doesn’t really belong in prophecy.
Most scholars believe that they came from a priestly caste of astrologers. All we really know is that they were a group of wise men who journeyed from the East & were able to read the heavens for signs & portents.
The key point though, is that they were foreigners. (Although there has been the occasional scholar raise the possibility of their being Jewish, it doesn’t fit with the story and the overwhelming majority of scholars are in full agreement that they were Gentiles – very likely Babylonians.)
Christ, right from the moment of his birth, was reaching out to the Gentiles.
This is important, when we consider that most of the Bible to that point is pretty Hebrew-centric. Here is a Lord who will be worshipped by all the nations – a God far bigger than any one race.
If we follow this point for a moment, it goes deeper.
We see polar opposite reactions to the birth of Christ the King – the Gentile Magi gave complete acceptance; Herod and “all Jerusalem with him” were frightened (the Greek word means to be stirred up and troubled).
All Jerusalem with him!
It’s curious that later in Matthew (ch 21) we read that Jerusalem is “troubled” or “in turmoil” at Jesus’s triumphal entry – the one presages the other.
Even though Gentiles were often considered alien to God’s purposes, these Magi show an openness to those same purposes not much seen in God’s own people – an eager and willing receptivity. This concept continues right through Jesus’ earthly life & ministry.
Then – They followed a star. Probably, it was a conjunction of planets, or a comet or a supernova. Enormous celestial events! Again, this illustrates the magnitude of the whole story – stars are right out of our world, and they give us a glimpse of something bigger, better and more beautiful. It’s worth noting that most stars are bigger than our planet!
The star guided them, just as the pillar of fire and cloud guided the Israelites. That parallel would not have been lost on the scholars of the time.
Then – We can look at their response. Our Gospel reading tells us they “were overwhelmed with joy”. That’s pretty big! The literal translation, though, contains so much joy it’s clumsy – “they rejoiced with a great joy exceedingly”. When I read that, I get the impression of a joy that was so overpowering, they just ran out of words…
Then, we can look at their gifts. Three gifts are named – as I’ve noted, this is the sole reason that in Western Christianity we have tended to assume there were three men; one man for each gift, very tidy.
Anyone who has sung “We Three Kings of Orient Are” will know that magi’s gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh symbolised kingship, deity and death. The message here is huge. The Bible hasn’t mentioned a king-priest since Melchizedek. Here, we have a king-priest who will die for his people – there is no greater love.
So the story, just as it is, is an enormous story showing us an enormous God with an enormous love.
Matthew is skilled at telling a story within a story. Although the story of the Magi is itself a big story, Matthew sets it within a bigger story still – the ancient prophecies. Our first reading from the Prophet Isaiah foretells the bringing of gold and frankincense with the praise of our Lord. Psalms (Ps 72) also speaks of foreign powers bringing him gifts and tribute, and foreign rulers falling down before God.
A big story, set within a big story. At every stage, it points us toward a God so much greater than we can comprehend.
And we have Jesus Christ not simply seen in everything, but explaining and completing all things. St John of the Cross said that, “In giving us his Son, his only word (he possesses no other) God spoke everything to us at once in this sole Word… he has no more to say”[1]
Epiphany is an invitation to see all of God. Yes, a baby born to an impoverished family; yes, a boy who travelled around with his parents. But yes, always, the King of Nations.
Because of this, Epiphany will always call on us to become bigger ourselves. (No, I’m not making a reference to the unappreciated side effects of Christmas feasting!)
Epiphany is, intrinsically, a call to action.
There’s a funny little “bit” of the story that I never really saw, until I was reading it over & over to preach on.
When Herod heard there was a King born, he called the relevant chaps – I mean, the chief priests and the scribes – to him, & enquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They all knew. To be honest, Herod should have known himself in his position! Kings ought to know their stuff. Anyway, they all knew, and they told him – Bethlehem.
And yet – there is no suggestion at all, here or anywhere else in the Gospel or Epistles, that they joined the Magi in their search in this little town.
Once I saw this, I just couldn’t un-see it. It’s extraordinary. In fairness, there had been other claims of the birth of the Messiah; and the scribes and chief priests – those people who held the vital knowledge – probably thought this was just another false claim; yet. (the Magi had come; a star had appeared) and surely there was some reason to at least explore the possibility?
But – no.
They had the vital knowledge, yet they failed to act on it – on any level.
They heard, they knew, but they failed to act…
Epiphany simply means, manifestation, or making plain. Epiphany calls us to make God plain. It’s never an opportunity to close our doors, put up the shutters, make our lives smaller. When we turn away from engagement with the world around us, when we seek out only Christian culture – or, worse still, when we seek out only the bits of Christian culture we find most palatable, we are making ourselves and our world smaller – but that isn’t really an option with this God of Enormity.
The Bible tells us that Christ was made human as we are, and we know this is true. But it’s important to keep front of mind that this isn’t an invitation to make Christ little. It works the other way around!
It’s tempting, sometimes, to focus on the concept that Jesus had feelings just as we do – doubt, anxiety, fear, whatever. And he almost certainly did – he can’t have been “tempted as we are” without feeling at least some of the feelings we feel.
And there’s a pretty sustained social effort to furnish him with a sexual relationship, most commonly with Mary Magdalene. (I’m inclined to doubt this one, less for any deep theological reason than just simply being a woman – it seems to me like a fundamental misunderstanding of women.)
But I think the real problem with these approaches is they are all about a deep conviction that our experience of being human is the normative one, and therefore Christ must share it.
The reality is so much bigger. Epiphany doesn’t invite us to fit Christ into our experience of being human; it invites us to follow Christ into his experience of being human.
God, through Christ, shows us true humanity.
As we follow, and focus on, and worship, a big God, of course we will become bigger ourselves. In his grace, we will grow our hearts, our minds, our understanding.
Juli Meiklejohn
[1] The Ascent of Mt Carmel 2:22:3-5