Rev. Tom Sorenson, Pastor
January 6, 2008

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable in your sight O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

It’s Epiphany, that day in the church calendar when we commemorate the visit of the Magi, the Wise Men, to the newborn infant Jesus. So I recently reread Matthew’s story of that visit that we just heard; and when I did, something happened that often happens when I carefully reread one of the familiar Bible stories. I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before. Something rather startling, in fact. It has do to with the star that guides the Magi to Jesus’ house in Bethlehem. We’ve all seen artistic depictions of that star that show it bright and prominent in the night sky. We even put huge representations of it on a downtown department store, the one Jane still insists on calling The Bon. People who insist on a natural explanation for Matthew’s literary device of the star talk of a comet, or a super nova, or an unusual alignment of planets, something that everyone would have seen.

But here’s the startling fact that I’d never noticed before. Herod didn’t see the star. Matthew doesn’t come right out and say that Herod didn’t see the star, but the way he tells the story necessarily assumes that Herod didn’t see it. Recall the story: The first thing the magi say to Herod is “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising….” Matthew 2:2 NRSV Herod responds to the magi’s words with fear and with an effort to find out where the Messiah, whom he clearly assumes the child the magi mention to be, was to be born. It seems to me that if he had seen the star he would have told the magi so, and he would have reacted and begun to hatch his evil scheme to kill the child before the magi ever appeared. But he didn’t. He betrays no knowledge of the star until the magi tell him about it. Clearly, he hadn’t seen it.

And so I ask: Why not? Now, please understand that I ask that question not as a factual, historical matter. I’m not interested in the historical factuality of this story here this morning. I’m asking the question from within the world of the story as story. A more precise way of asking my question is: Why would Matthew have Herod not see the star? Or even better: Is there any meaning for us in the fact in the story that Herod doesn’t see the star but the wise men do? I think that there is meaning for us in that detail of Matthew’s story, and I want to explore that meaning with you this morning.

Let us start our inquiry with these questions: Who are the magi who see the star, and who is Herod who doesn’t? Perhaps their different identities will shed some light on their different perceptions of the star. The magi, first of all, are not kings. They are “wise men.” That’s one reason why we aren’t singing “We Three Kings of Orient Are” this morning. They are “wise men,” to use the NRSV translation that we heard. The Greek original is “magi.” Scholars tell us that Matthew apparently had in mind priests or other religious figures from Persia, far to the east of Judea. They were probably adepts of the Zoroastrian religion, an ancient faith that had profoundly affected Judaism during the Babylonian Exile some five to six hundred years before the birth of Christ. They are Gentiles, non-Jews, who nonetheless are men of great spiritual wisdom and discernment. They represent the spiritual wisdom of the Gentiles, or more broadly, spiritual insight and discernment generally. They see the star. That is, they recognize Jesus for who he is, God’s Messiah.

Herod actually was King of the Jews in the political sense. He was a Roman puppet ruler. Although Matthew’s account of Herod’s massacre of the young boys of Bethlehem that follows right after the story of the magi’s visit to Bethlehem is probably a literary invention of Matthew’s and not an historical event, it is the kind of thing Herod would do. History knows him as a brutal ruler who oppressed the people and used terror against them to solidify his, and Rome’s, rule. He represents the ways of the world, the ways of power, oppression, and violence. He didn’t see the star. He took the magi’s word for who Jesus was, or at least he accepted the possibility that Jesus was who they said he was. Even the possibility that they were right would be enough to get him to lash out with murderous violence against the perceived threat to his power. But he didn’t see the star. That is, he did not on his own discern who Jesus was. Matthew is telling us here, I think, that those with spiritual wisdom and insight discern who Jesus is. Those who follow the ways of the world do not. The ways of the world get in the way and keep us from the spiritual wisdom we need to discern who Jesus is.

We claim to be followers of Jesus, to be his disciples. We call him Lord, the one to whom we owe our primary allegiance. But Matthew’s story moves me to ask this morning: Do we see the star? I hope that it’s clear by now what I mean by that question. Do we truly discern who Jesus is? And if in some way we do, do we really grasp what who he is means? Do we see in him the fullest revelation of the nature of God? Do we see in him that God’s ways are very different from the world’s ways? Do we see in him that God freely extends grace and forgiveness to every person, without condition, without price? Do we see in him that God calls forth from us a response to God’s free grace, namely, lives committed to peace through justice and nonviolence? Do we see in him both the joy of salvation and the cost of discipleship? Do we see who he really is? Do we see the star?

Or do we not? Perhaps our minds, hearts, and spirits are so darkened by the ways of the world that we do not see the star, that we do not truly discern who Jesus is and what he means. Perhaps we have become so inured to the world’s ways of violence and greed that we can’t see the star; or we can see it only dimly, not in its full brilliance, not in its full meaning. Perhaps the world’s values have so become our values that the star is invisible to us as it was invisible to Herod. None of us is a murderous tyrant like Herod to be sure, but can we honestly say that our Christian values are not compromised by the ways of the world? I doubt it. I know that I can’t.

So this Epiphany I ask you, and I ask myself: Do we see the star? It’s not really hard to see. All we have to do is recommit ourselves to Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. All we have to do is discern how the world’s ways of violence and oppression have compromised our Christian values of peace and justice. Once we have, we then need to put those worldly values aside and turn anew to Christ and to Christ’s revelation of the ways of God. When we do, that famous star of Bethlehem will shine in its full brilliance in our hearts and in our souls. We will fall on our knees and worship Jesus just like the magi did. We will offer him our gifts, not of gold, frankincense, and myrrh but of our hearts and of our lives, lives devoted anew to service to him and to God through service to God’s people. So look up. Look to the heavens. Look inside. Look to your heart. Do you see the star? Do I? Amen.