The central theme is the manifestation of Christ to the
Gentiles—God’s self-revealing to all nations, in fulfillment of the prophets,
bringing to culmination the story of God’s relationship to Israel, that they
might be a light to the nations. This manifestation is dramatically
demonstrated in several ways early in the Gospels—in Christ’s baptism at the
Jordan, in his miraculous turning of water into wine at the wedding in Cana.
And, here at the very start of Matthew’s Gospel, this manifestation is
witnessed in the story of the wise men from the East—Gentile astrologers—who
fall down in worshipful homage before this Jewish child enthroned on the lap of
his peasant mother, and acknowledge him as king.
Matthew does not say call these travelers kings, nor give their
number. Tradition has named and numbered them as three. And Matthew does note
their three gifts—gifts which, as so many Christmas and Epiphany hymns note,
are of mystic meaning. In the words of one ancient homily: “as the magi look,
they believe, and their symbolic gifts bear witness: incense for God, gold for
a king, myrrh for one who is to die.”
All this—the manifestation of the Christ as not only for
Israel but for the nations, and of the Messiah as both God and King who will be
a sacrifice for all the world—all this is beautifully and memorably presented
in Matthew’s telling. But that is not all.
There is, lastly, the story itself: this narrative of
conflicting responses to the birth of the Messiah. On the one hand we have
travelers journeying far, no doubt at great cost and with difficulty, to bring
gifts to a king. And when they find him, they rejoice exceedingly with great
joy.
On the other hand we have an earthly king, Herod, and those
in his retinue, who though near at hand to this birth have a very different
reaction: fear, paranoia, scheming, and finally, as we know, appalling and
ruthless violence.
The contrast could not be more glaring, as Matthew clearly
intends us to imitate the one and guard against the other—to join the wise men
in rejoicing at Christ’s appearing as the one who comes to bring peace to the
nations, and bringing ourselves into his presence to worship and adore--and not
to be among those who seek fearfully to insulate themselves against the threat
of what this birth means for the ways of the world.
Perhaps that seems too obvious to mention—why, after all,
would anyone identify with Herod? Why, indeed? And yet, Herod had cause to be
fearful—he was in fact right in sensing that the birth of Jesus presented a
threat to him and to his established order. A threat to an established order of
injustice, oppression, greed, indifference, division—yes, a threat to that
order is what his birth means, both then and now and always.
And, if we are honest, his birth will likely mean a threat
to us at some point; or rather to anything within us that grasps and hoards,
that seeks self over and above others, that would maintain or create an
established order of absolute self-determination and power at all costs, no
matter how delusional or destructive. All such destructive forces will
themselves find their destruction in this birth. Yet let us be among the wise
ones who kneel down and pay him homage. Amen.
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| Adoration of the Magi, by Abraham Bloemaert |
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