St. Matthew 2:1–12
In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
They were hungry, tired of rough living.
They had no place to lay their heads under the cold night sky.
Little did they know that the One they sought would also have no home, no cradle, no bed, not even a tomb to call His own.
These three travelled, who knows how far.
And it was just the worst time of the year for a journey, and such a long journey.
Back home they were known as wise men,
But on this journey they felt foolish.
The voices of friends and neighbors still rang in their ears:
“This is all folly. You’ll only come back poor, broken, empty handed. Or you won’t come back at all.”
They left everything to follow a star
And some old nonsense about a king of the Jews, some unknown god in human flesh, and a death that is life.
Foolishness. Utter foolishness.
Yet, they left their homes, their star-gazing towers, their position and prestige.
They left the world,
To find Him.
When they came to the land of the Jews, things became still more foolish.
They looked for Him in the holy city, in the holy temple, in the king’s palace.
But He was not there.
It’s almost like He was hiding from them on purpose.
All they got was a rude reception by some low-life, scoundrel of a tyrant.
All they got were more scraps of old prophecies, Words from the God of the Jews.
Worst of all, this God’s priests didn’t even seem to take the Words all that seriously.
Had it all been for nothing?
Where could this hidden God be found?
On to Bethlehem.
A pitiful, little town from the sound of it.
The king and priests couldn’t be bothered to go.
But on to Bethlehem.
They pressed on, determined to follow this journey to its end,
To the birth that is the end.
And then there was the star again!
Somehow stronger, brighter, clearer.
With the words of God’s prophet glowing in their hearts, the star seemed to point the way,
Led them down the very streets, Right to the door of the house itself.
Could this be the place?
Is this how the hidden God would make Himself known?
With fear, trembling with hope, they entered the house.
There was a Child.
Maybe two months old at the most, on His mother’s lap.
Nothing much to look at, like most babies.
Was this the King?
Could this be the God?
Would this Child become the salvation of mankind?
The prophecy had led them there.
The star confirmed it.
Yes. They had found Him.
They had reached the end of their journey.
They had found the birth that was the end of all journeys.
They had been brought to the end that was the beginning of new life.
And they fell down and worshiped Him.
Then, opening their treasures, they offered Him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.
And then, I like to think, they sat down, and listened.
The mother Mary, with her husband Joseph, told them everything that had happened;
The first Gentile congregation.
They heard of the angels coming and the arrival of the shepherds.
And they heard of some things that were yet to happen:
Rejection, suffering, death.
This Baby Boy would be a man of sorrows.
Someone who will bear the world’s griefs,
Pierced for our transgressions;
Crushed for our iniquities;
And with His wounds we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray—wandering, lost on long, cold journeys, unsure of our way, and unable to reach our journey’s end on our own—
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on Him—on this Child—
the iniquity of us all.
And then, the three men,
Much more wise than before,
Go back home.
With nothing to show for their journey, their effort,
No way to recover their costs.
They return empty handed.
And they count it all gain.
They go back to their foreign land,
Back to what was once their home, but now foreign to them as well.
For they had never felt more at home than in that house in little Bethlehem.
They come back with nothing,
With only His Word ringing in their ears: a ruler has come who will shepherd God’s people—all of God’s people.
They come back with no unearthly vision,
But with only the sight of a Baby on His mother’s lap: God with us.
They come back with no riches; they had left the last of those with Him.
And they come back with only a warning of doom… or was it a promise?
That this Son was marked, chosen to die,
Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter…
The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.
They had left all that behind with Him too—all their sin.
They come home tired, and yet more awake than ever.
Back among their own people, they are uncomfortable surrounded by their old gods, empty, lifeless idols.
Their journey was ended, but they are no longer satisfied with this world.
Their life is over, and yet they are not afraid of death.
They had indeed come back poor, broken, and empty handed,
But with full hearts.
Back home, but not at home in this world, those three wise men are glad of another death, a different kind—
Not the death that all men must endure.
Not the little death that stops the heart from beating.
But the death of Another.
They are glad of the death of the king, the God, the sacrifice.
And so they are glad of their own death with Him:
Death to this world,
Death to this home of sin,
Death to self.
This is the death of all those who follow His star,
All those who leave everything and take up their cross.
This is the death of baptism, the death of water and blood,
The death of sin,
The death of death,
The death where we are joined with Him.
This is the death that is really a rebirth—
The end of all our journeying,
The end of all our toil and sorrow,
The end of not belonging.
It is the rebirth into a new home, a new life, a new world.
In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.
Inspired by T.S. Eliot’s poem, Journey of the Magi
