Epiphany Sunday

       January 6, 2008

     A clergyman awoke one morning to find a dead donkey in his front yard.  He had no idea how it got there, but he knew he had to get rid of it somehow.  So, he called the city sanitation department and was told that was not under there responsibility.  He called the county health department and they indicated it was really a city problem.  He called the county extension agent’s office and was instructed about the best way to turn the problem into excellent fertilizer.  In desperation, the good preacher called the mayor and asked what he should do.  The mayor was not having a particularly good day and barked over the phone, “Why bother me?  You’re a clergyman.  It’s your job to bury the dead.”

     The clergyman kind of lost his composure.  “Yes,” he snapped.  “But I thought I should at least notify the next-of-kin.”

     Now, had that been the good City of Bedford, the problem would have been taken care of in short order.  Having a funeral director as the mayor does have its advantages, I suppose.

     You have probably seen the playful rejoinder indicating the difference that might have existed had the Three Wise Men been Three Wise Women.  The Three Wise Women would have asked for directions, helped deliver the baby, cleaned the stable, made a casserole, and brought diapers, baby powder, and formula.  Women tend to be more practical about such matters. 

     The point in the gifts given by the Wise Men is not practicality, however.  These gifts carry a much deeper meaning.  The magi, whom legend has named Casper, Melchior, and Balthazar, offered gifts that indicated more about the receiver than they do about the giver.  The star they had observed at its rising indicated the birth of a king.  They brought gifts that a king might appreciate; gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  We assume there were three kings because Matthew’s telling of the Good News lists these three gifts.  The text does not say these were the only gifts given, nor does it say how much gold, how many grains of frankincense, or how many jars of myrrh.  It might be possible that only two magi came, one of them bearing two gifts, or there may have been six, all of whom pitched in to pay for such extravagant gifts.  That sometimes happens in the best of families; someone dies and we ask one member of the family to buy flowers or send a memorial and add our name to the list.  We’ll pay them back later.  We can’t really be sure of the number of magi who found their way to toddler Jesus’ house.  The term “magus” was often a contemptuous name for itinerant magicians or entertainers.

     But, such a suggestion, such silly thinking really messes up the manger scene, doesn’t it?  We prefer the exotically adorned kings who clearly upstage everyone else in the arrangement; including the shepherds, the quaint animals, the Holy Family, even the Christ Child.  In that regard, the magi are the most modern of all our religious symbols.  They represent sympathetic icons of power and wealth that draw attention away from a child born in less than ideal circumstances, to humble parents, in a backwater country, and surrounded by travelers being counted for tax purposes. 

     We want the story the way tradition gives it to us.  As it stands, the story suggests that the rich and powerful, the learned and the politically astute are the first to recognize and name the infant Jesus a King.  This validation is in line with our own belief that superior intellect and proper study produces insight, that truth is suspect unless and until it is acknowledged by power and wealth.  That’s the way it’s supposed to be, not only at a manger but in life.

     So, it may well be that these magi, whose journey we commemorate today, were not the overwhelming kings we thought them to be.  But, maybe they were just as we have been taught.  There is really only one thing about this story that we can hold on to with any certainty.  Whoever these people were, whatever their exact number, and wherever they were from, they were henceforth called “wise.”  Their wisdom was not necessarily the precondition of their visitation, but it was certainly the one gift they took from their encounter with the toddler Jesus.  We are not told what religion the Wise Men held.  There is only one God, and all who seek God with a sincere heart are led to God, though they may call God by a different name.  That’s one thing Christians have in common with members of other faith traditions.  We worship one God, we are children of the same Father, and we see something of the image of God in both creature and creation.  This truth is hard for religious people to appreciate because religious people all over the world tend to claim that they have exclusive access to God and the truth.

     Wisdom, then, is not the prerequisite to a relationship with Jesus the Christ, but the product of knowing this Jesus.  Those who encounter God in Christ come away with more and better that what they brought to such an encounter.  But, is that not always the case in every relationship?  If we ever come to know wisdom in our relationships, are we not always wiser on the way home?  If we have to answer in the negative we might have to examine the size of our egos.

          A few people visit the toddler’s home at the urging of a star.  They followed in faith, not in wisdom, and found a child.  They somehow saw royalty in his nature, bowed before him, and presented what they had brought.  They were made “wise” from that encounter. 

     Whether we bring more practical gifts or more exotic ones we, too, can be made wise from this Epiphany.  Wisest of all, of course, are those who will bring the gift of self to this “child who has been born king.”  That’s the gift he will value most.  Amen.                 

         ~The Rev. G. Thomas Mustard