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 Beyond the Stars |
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7 January 2007 My friend Barbara tells of a phone call she received from a woman she knew some fifteen years ago. Apparently Barbara’s acquaintance was about to attend a women’s retreat. In preparation, participants were asked to say a few words about someone who had been a mentor to them along their faith journey. ‘Gail’ said the assignment got her to thinking about Barbara, which prompted her call. What amazed Barbara was that she figured in Gail’s faith journey at all. Anne McGrew Bennett, a life-long peace activist, ardent feminist, and equally ardent grey panther, lived around the corner from our Berkeley apartment the first few years John and I were married. She and her husband John invited us over a few times, but in truth, we didn’t see them all that much. Anne cherished beauty and kindness, and was tenacious in her principled commitment to faith and justice and community. She was equally as at home serving tea from her good china as picketing the Post Office to protest discriminatory hiring and promotion practices. I count her as a mentor, a star in my own faith journey–but if she were still living, I suspect she would be as amazed as Barbara to know that I regard her in that way. The stars in our faith journey often function much like Matthew’s Epiphany star–they guide us along the way. But in truth, it isn’t really the star that brings the magi to Bethlehem; it is Jesus. That ubiquitous Epiphany star is a marvelous prism for the way Matthew lays out his story–a silent, shining presence with the magi. Prevailing opinion is that in the magi themselves, Matthew is referring both to foreigners, or Gentiles, as well as a learned class, probably astrologers who studied the stars. In short, the Jean Dixons of the first century, a class of people often sought after in royal courts. Small wonder that they head for Herod’s. But did you ever wonder about that? The magi don’t go to Bethlehem directly; they stop first in Jerusalem. Maybe it’s because as foreign guests, they travel with permission of Herod. Herod–the puppet king of Jewish ancestry who rules only with Rome’s permission–is Rome’s paranoid lackey. Herod “the Great”: murderer of one of his wives, three of his sons, and numerous advisors to maintain his hold on power. He is unquestionably ruthless; he is equally cunning. It is Herod who rehabilitates the Jewish temple in Jerusalem–not because he is seized by a sudden wave of devotion, but because he needs the PR–he needs better relations with the Jews he is charged with keeping under control. These nuances to Matthew’s story escape us, of course. They belong to another era, another culture. But they would have been all too familiar to Matthew’s first readers. Reading our text with this background, with these eyes, one of the things we notice are those delicious details–that King Herod is frightened when the magi announce the object of their search–a child born king of the Jews. After all, that is Herod’s’ title. But it is also Herod who inquires where the Messiah is to be born. The magi have not asked after a messiah, but after a child born king of the Jews. It is Herod, the Jewish puppet king, who makes the connection between that infant and the long-awaited Messiah. And even Herod doesn’t make the connection himself. It’s as if to underscore that Herod is Jewish by ancestry only, because he has to be clued in about the messiah by his own court advisors–Herod must be told that the Messiah is to be born in Bethlehem. Bethlehem, the heart of Israel’s beloved king David, is to birth the messiah “who is to shepherd my people Israel.” Then this fearful “king” Herod summons the foreigners in secret, giving them the information they are seeking–and clearly plotting something other than homage for the child of Mary and Joseph. Nevertheless, the star that has brought the magi to Jerusalem now guides them to Bethlehem. Here they find Jesus and Mary; they kneel to pay homage and offer their treasures. Bill Wylie-Kellermann writes that they bow in genuine worship.“They are foil to Herod, who by the most blatant deception and calculated manipulation expresses the desire to come and worship.”[1] Finally, the magi return to their own country by another route–they have been warned about Herod in a dream. These magi may be of the courtly cast, but they have discerned Herod’s lie. They may travel with permission–their visas bear Herod’s mark[2]–but theirs is the first act of civil disobedience in homage to this messiah, this king. It is no insignificant act. According to Matthew, Herod’s fury with the magi’s disobedience engenders endangers the lives of countless newborns. By their act, these magi become guides, mentors to those who journey to find Jesus. They bear witness to the potential dangers, to the need for discernment along the way. The problem is that this suggestion of risk, for the need for discernment doesn’t square with our popular vision of the journey of faith. We would like to cast that journey as a trip to the perfect world of our dreams, in which “all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.”[3] But even the storied world of Jesus’ birth reminds us that our journey of faith always leads us to real confrontation with the powers of the day. Ultimately, the sojourn to Herod is not a social call. Matthew makes it perfectly clear that those seeking Jesus must deal with those who claim power over our lives. This means that our journey of faith also calls upon us to discern lies from the truth, and more challenging still, to discern the truth within the lies. Our journey of faith inevitably will cause us to return home by another route, because at its very center, our guides/mentors bring us face to face with God, made known to us in Jesus the Christ. And that meeting will never, ever leave us the same. May your mentors help you to discern God’s light in your encounters with the powers. And may you each give witness to that light in your encounters with others. You will not always know when you are serving as guide and mentor to others along their faith journey. Only know that God is present with us throughout, and that alone is cause for joy. *** [1] “Epiphany: Light to the Powers,” Bill Wylie-Kellermann, Sojourners Magazine/January 1991, preaching the WORD, www.sojo.net/index.cfm?action=magazine.article&issue=soj9101&article-910120&... |