Matthew 2:1-12
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.
The reading above is the entirety of what scripture has to say about the "Three Kings" or "Wise Men" from the Christmas story. No camels marching single-file across the dunes; no Caspar, Balthasar or Melchior; no iconography showing two vaguely European-looking men and one Black African all dressed in ermine and velvet -- just the bare bones: some men from the east. We've always assumed there were three because three gifts are mentioned. We've assumed they were kings because only kings could afford those three particularly valuable gifts. All that we think we know about them -- beyond 'men from the east' -- is folklore, and the very scarcity of scriptural reference is what has allowed us over the centuries to embroider a rich full back-story that probably says more about us than about any possibly mythical visitors.
Today I've chosen two modern-day additions to the cycle of stories about the Three Kings, chosen them because they point us to questions about our own responses to the birth of the Christ Child. The first is a poem by Phyllis McGinley, titled The Ballad of Befana. It can be found here: http://www.jacwell.org/poetry/ballad_of_befana.htm among other places. Befana is a common figure is much of Italian folklore, an old housewife who fills the role of Santa Claus in Italy, leaving gifts for the children. In this poem, the Three Visitors pass by her home and invite her to come with them to welcome the newborn. She is greatly excited by the news and truly wants to go and bring gifts herself, but first she has to "finish the dusting and polish the stairs, and bake her bread"... The visitors, however, move on and a day or two later when her chores are momentarily finished she, too, finally sets out to visit the Child - but never finds him because she let her chance go by.
How often have we been too busy for worship or prayer or simply being in the presence of God? How many times have we been so wrapped up in the minutiae of our lives that we refuse to hear when God has called us? How many times have we told God, "I'm busy right now, I'll get back to you later?"
The three visitors of scripture -- whoever they might have been -- heard a call and they left everything to answer it -- then, having found what they were seeking, it apparently was enough for them and they journeyed on out of history.
The second story to share today is from Amahl and the Night Visitors, an English-language opera written in the 1950's by Gian Carlo Menotti. It is the story of a desperately poor shepherd woman and her sickly, crippled son who are visited one night by the entourage of our same Three Kings. Within the body of the story is a sub-plot where, set to achingly beautiful music, one of the kings asks the mother if she has ever seen a Child "the color of wheat, the color of dawn? His eyes are mild, His hands are those of a King, as King He was born. Incense, myrrh, and gold we bring to his side, and the Eastern Star is our guide."
She responds in much the same words, but it is obvious she is speaking of another child: "Yes I know a child the color of wheat, the color of dawn. His eyes are mild, his hands are those of a King, as King he was born. But no one will bring him incense or gold, though sick and poor and hungry and cold. He is my child, my son, my darling, my own." As the piece continues with other questions and answers it becomes obvious that neither is actually listening to the other - they are each so caught up in their own vision of how the Christ might look and where he might be found. The king sees the Christ as 'kingly,' the mother sees him in her sickly, hungry child. Both are right, but both are limited.
How often do we try to contain our God of Limitless Possibilities by placing our own human limitations onto God? How often do we search for God in one place only because we "know" that is where God has to be? How often do we miss out on the blessing because we are so focused on the wrong time and place?
The story of the Three Kings/Magi may be short on scriptural reference, but it is long on human imagination -- and if we meet God anywhere it is within our hopes and dreams and 'what-ifs' ... so let your spirit soar. The Child we seek is, after all, everywhere the human heart can go.
Amen.
Today I've chosen two modern-day additions to the cycle of stories about the Three Kings, chosen them because they point us to questions about our own responses to the birth of the Christ Child. The first is a poem by Phyllis McGinley, titled The Ballad of Befana. It can be found here: http://www.jacwell.org/poetry/ballad_of_befana.htm among other places. Befana is a common figure is much of Italian folklore, an old housewife who fills the role of Santa Claus in Italy, leaving gifts for the children. In this poem, the Three Visitors pass by her home and invite her to come with them to welcome the newborn. She is greatly excited by the news and truly wants to go and bring gifts herself, but first she has to "finish the dusting and polish the stairs, and bake her bread"... The visitors, however, move on and a day or two later when her chores are momentarily finished she, too, finally sets out to visit the Child - but never finds him because she let her chance go by.
How often have we been too busy for worship or prayer or simply being in the presence of God? How many times have we been so wrapped up in the minutiae of our lives that we refuse to hear when God has called us? How many times have we told God, "I'm busy right now, I'll get back to you later?"
The three visitors of scripture -- whoever they might have been -- heard a call and they left everything to answer it -- then, having found what they were seeking, it apparently was enough for them and they journeyed on out of history.
The second story to share today is from Amahl and the Night Visitors, an English-language opera written in the 1950's by Gian Carlo Menotti. It is the story of a desperately poor shepherd woman and her sickly, crippled son who are visited one night by the entourage of our same Three Kings. Within the body of the story is a sub-plot where, set to achingly beautiful music, one of the kings asks the mother if she has ever seen a Child "the color of wheat, the color of dawn? His eyes are mild, His hands are those of a King, as King He was born. Incense, myrrh, and gold we bring to his side, and the Eastern Star is our guide."
She responds in much the same words, but it is obvious she is speaking of another child: "Yes I know a child the color of wheat, the color of dawn. His eyes are mild, his hands are those of a King, as King he was born. But no one will bring him incense or gold, though sick and poor and hungry and cold. He is my child, my son, my darling, my own." As the piece continues with other questions and answers it becomes obvious that neither is actually listening to the other - they are each so caught up in their own vision of how the Christ might look and where he might be found. The king sees the Christ as 'kingly,' the mother sees him in her sickly, hungry child. Both are right, but both are limited.
How often do we try to contain our God of Limitless Possibilities by placing our own human limitations onto God? How often do we search for God in one place only because we "know" that is where God has to be? How often do we miss out on the blessing because we are so focused on the wrong time and place?
The story of the Three Kings/Magi may be short on scriptural reference, but it is long on human imagination -- and if we meet God anywhere it is within our hopes and dreams and 'what-ifs' ... so let your spirit soar. The Child we seek is, after all, everywhere the human heart can go.
Amen.
RSS Feed