Epiphany / Christmas 2
January 5, 2025
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.
In the Christmas services of my youth, the three kings were my favorites. Maybe they were your favorites, too. The shepherds wrapped themselves in blankets. The kings put on elaborate gowns. The shepherds had walking sticks, which doubled as staffs to intimidate the wolves. The kings carried a cigar box wrapped in gold foil, a silver jar of frankincense, and an emerald container of myrrh. While the shepherds had hand towels held by twine on their foreheads, the kings wore an elaborate turban or a royal crown. If the shepherds were sloppy, the kings were dignified. There was no way to dress up a shepherd, but the kings were mysterious, even exotic.
And if that wasn’t enough, they had their own song. You know it, we’ve sung it: We Three Kings of Orient Are, bearing gifts, we traverse afar. Field and fountain, moor and mountain, following yonder star. In my childhood church, the congregation sang the first verse mightily.
Then three men from the choir sang the successive verses. Russ Cashwell sang, “Born a King on Bethlehem plain, gold I bring to crown him again.” Gold is a gift for a king. That’s appropriate.
Then Gerry Hess made his entrance to sing, “Frankincense to offer, have I; incense to own a Deity nigh.” Ah, frankincense was incense, precious, the smoke ascending like a prayer.
Bruce Williams followed. With his deep voice, he belted out, “Myrrh is mine, its bitter perfume breathes a life of gathering gloom…” We ignored the words, I think. The pageantry was too dramatic, and we were focused on the star of wonder. After all, Jesus was born. That was the point of it all. Still is.
As time went on, I began to read and learn. The prophet Isaiah told of a future day when Gentile strangers would come from afar. Kings would arrive on camels. They would bring gold and frankincense. Sound familiar? Isaiah did not mention any myrrh, so I looked it up. Myrrh was a burial spice, the worst possible gift anybody could bring a baby. No wonder Isaiah did not mention it.
Then I realized our traditional “three kings” story never mentions any camels. And the story doesn’t say the strange visitors were kings. The Gospel of Matthew calls them “magi.” They were star-gazers and fortune tellers, considered heretics by the book of Deuteronomy and the Jerusalem elite. Worst of all, our familiar story never numbers them as “three.” All we’re told is magi from the East arrived. There could have been three, or two, or six. The story never says. The magi brought three gifts. Early on, the number was fixed as three. Nobody ever counted the people in the entourage.
Of course, there’s no reason for us to stop singing “We Three Kings.” The fact is, we’ve been adding details to the story since the seventh century. That’s when the kings, or rather magi, were named. Not Russ, Gerry, and Bruce, but Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazzar – but only in the Western church. The Syrian church, the Ethiopian church and the Armenian church each provide three different names of their own. Some in the Chinese church believe the wise men came from way out East, you know, from China.
Raymond Brown, the great Catholic scholar, says this is what we do. We take the text into our hearts and put ourselves into it. With sincere faithfulness, we build upon it. A good argument can be made that’s what the writer of the Gospel of Matthew has done. If Matthew hasn’t expanded upon the prophet Isaiah, at least his telling of the Christmas story has been shaped by it.
Interesting, don’t you think?
Yet all of this can be a distraction from the heart of the story, namely that Jesus is born and the local king wants to do away with him. The king’s name is Herod. At least, that was his family name. There are six different kings named Herod in the New Testament. The one in our story was the granddaddy of them all. They called him Herod the Great. He ruled from about 37 B.C. to 4 B.C. He played up to the Roman Empire that occupied his land; in turn, they kept him propped up. He compromised any values to get his way, so Rome kept him around.
Herod was everything that the Gospel of Matthew described him to be. Herod was ambitious; he loved to develop real estate to prove how important he was. He had a reputation for profound cruelty, even violence. He never thought twice about imprisoning or eliminating any threat, even if that threat came from his own family. The Herod of history showed little restraint. He was sneaky, sinister. As we’ve heard today, he was devious.
One of my minister friends wrote King Herod into his Christmas pageant one year. I don’t know what he was thinking. But he gave his King Herod the same lines that Matthew gives him: “Go and find this child. Let me know where he is. I want to worship him too.” At that moment, one of the children stood up over here in the manger scene to yell, “No, you don’t. You’re a liar!” People laughed, nervously, but everybody knew the child was right.
These Bible stories are more than stories. They teach us morality. They instruct us to distinguish between right and wrong. They declare directly or implicitly that this is a dangerous world. A lot of children are at risk. One of the reasons they are at risk is because some adults are intoxicated with their own arrogance. Any sense of compassion or humanity shriveled long ago.
And the children know this. Whether they’ve read the stories of Harry Potter, Hansel and Gretl, or the Hunger Games, they know there are dark forces alive in the world.
Today’s text tells us what has unleashed the evil. Matthew says, “Wise men from the East came to say, ‘Where is the new king? All we want to do is worship him.” That was enough to set loose the beast in old king Herod. He had no intention of getting off his throne. He insisted on staying in power, no matter what. So, he said, “Let me know when you find him. I want to worship him too.”
That little kid in my friend’s church said, “No, you don’t. You’re a liar.” Herod the Great proved him right. In the process he exposed himself as being not so great. Not compared to the Real King, King Jesus, who would one day ride into the city on a very humble donkey. This is what the Bible teaches us.
The lesson can be broken down in a few simple points:
1) First, the coming of Jesus into our world exposes how broken this world is. The baby provokes old Herod who compromised with Rome and trafficked in arrogance. His ego was so wounded that he could not make for anybody else. In the same way, the grown-up Jesus will walk into a town. The sick folks will flock to him. The demented ones will yell at him. He comes with mercy and complete goodness, and a broken world says, “We need to get rid of Jesus. Let’s see if we can find some of that myrrh.”
And in the great irony of the Gospel, the world did get rid of Jesus. They put him on a cross – but nobody got around to using any myrrh because, by the time the women got to the tomb to anoint him, God has already raised him from the dead.[1]
3) And here’s the third truth, as expressed so simply by Stanley Hauerwas in his commentary on Matthew. He reminded us: every Herod dies. Hauerwas says, “Crafty as he was, his craftiness could not save Herod from death. Kings come and go, but God’s people endure. They can endure, because God has made endurance possible through the kingdom begun in Jesus.”[2]
So, here we are. This broken world has been broken into. The fake king has been exposed because the real king has come. Jesus remains with us always, just as he promised. And we bring him our gold, as befits a king. We bring him our frankincense, for he is a king worthy of our worship, and he is the priest who holds our prayers.
But you know, Isaiah was probably right. Forget about the myrrh. The death of Jesus was important, and is central to our faith, but so is his resurrection. So, Jesus doesn’t need the myrrh. He needs our hearts, our minds, and our strength. He will take our love. He alone is worthy of it.
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
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