Epiphany
Isaiah 60:1-6 & Matthew 2:1-12
St Barbara’s; 5.01.2025
Rev Jeremy Bevan
On Friday evening, I found myself plunged into a mystery when a complete stranger, also called Jeremy, rang our doorbell. He bore a retirement gift and card for me. Addressed only to ‘Jeremy’, it had been wrongly delivered to number XX further up the avenue, and then to him at number XXX. Without his tenacity, and some smart internet sleuthing on his wife’s part, I might never have got my gift and card.
The whole episode coincided with my thinking about today’s gospel passage, and the mystery the magi (or wise men) willingly plunge into. It seems to me their adventure poses at least three questions for us this new year. First question: where will we see God? Matthew pulls together a number of Old Testament prophecies to emphasise that God is now revealing Godself, not just to the Jewish people, but to anyone watchful, curious about indicators of God’s presence, God’s activity in the world. The watchful, curious wise men are the first non-Jewish people to come and pay homage to Jesus, to worship God in the form of a newborn baby. The Roman empire may have viewed their craft or profession as suspect, even charlatan. Yet somehow God connects with these magi. Rewards their curiosity, silences the voices – their own – perhaps singing in their ears as the travelled and telling them this was ‘all folly’. Guides them by what appear to be supernatural means. Reaches deep into their unconscious, using a dream to steer them clear of danger on the journey home.
Two thousand years on, let us be wary of boxing God in, imagining God only works in ways we’re familiar with, only turns up in the usual, expected places. Here’s a prayer I prayed yesterday as I walked round the parish that I found helpful: God, give me a fresh perspective, new eyes, to see where you are at work this year.
Second question: when we see God at work, perhaps in unfamiliar places, how will we respond? There’s an old Chinese proverb that says the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. What if the magi had never set out? Just stayed at home and written a scholarly paper speculating on the meaning of the star they’d seen? Thankfully, they didn’t do that. They had what a modern poet has called “a pilgrim’s eye that sees beyond the stars”. Without knowing precisely where they were going, or how things would end up, they went.
Contrast their eager, tenacious response with that of the chief priests and scribes. They could see well enough that their scriptures foretold the Messiah’s birth in lowly Bethlehem, birthplace of king David, another shepherd of his people, as Jesus would become. But unlike the magi, they didn’t set off in search of him, perhaps never even dreamt they might find him in a filthy stable that had become hallowed ground. Contrast the magi’s response, too, with that of Herod. A puppet king, holding onto his throne only at the Roman empire’s say-so, he schemes against God from the relative security of his sumptuous palace. Setting out, actually co-operating with God to announce the coming kingdom, to bring it in, takes vision, a sense that we can’t put this off, that now is the moment. This new year, are we ready to step out, wherever it may lead, even if the way feels rather uncertain, even risky? Ready to let our hands and feet follow our head and our understanding of the signs of God at work? Ready to put ourselves in the places where God is busy?
Third question: are we ready for God to change us on the journey ahead this year? Travel (it’s said) broadens the mind, and there are hints that what happens to the magi on the journey home is the most transformative part of their entire trip. Having followed the star announcing the birth of the king of the Jews, they naturally assume he’ll be born somewhere important. In a palace. In Jerusalem. But they get it wrong, and spook Herod. Three things happen in response to their rather naïve blunder: firstly, and tragically, Herod’s massacre of all the boys under two in Bethlehem to eliminate any threat to his power; secondly, supernatural intervention from God in the form of a dream, telling the magi not to go back to Herod; thirdly, their response: Matthew tells us they “left for their own country by another road”. Suddenly these powerful, influential men are transformed. Learning from their mistake, for now distrustful of the powers that be, they become something like outlaws. Voluntarily marginalised, they creep home, perhaps along the backroads, to avoid Herod’s spies.
It’s sometimes frustrating when the Bible doesn’t give us the end of a story. We leave the magi journeying home, and hear no more about them in the gospels. Their destiny remains a mystery to us. But of this we can be sure: what they saw and experienced will have changed them irrevocably. Overjoyed at finding the one born king of the Jews, the end of all their searching, they’ve declared their allegiance to the new king, given him kingly gifts.
How were they different when they got back home? That encounter with God in a lowly stable, and through that dream, must have changed their view of the world, left them ‘no longer at ease’ with the old way of things. We can only imagine how. As we enter a new year, are we ready to imagine how God might change our view of the world?
Where will we see God at work this year? How will we respond? How will that change us? As we go into 2025, may our embrace of the mystery that so captivated the magi be as rewarding for us as it was for them.
