Tag Archives: Matthew 2:1-12

By His Cradle We Stand

(A Meditation for Christmas Eve 2019, based on Luke 2:1-20 and Matthew 2:1-12)

‘Twas the day before the day before Christmas, and my wife Lisa and I were down at (our local grocery store) Market Basket stocking up on all the food and supplies we were going to need for the holiday; and as you can imagine that place, as one person aptly described it, was “a whole new level of busy!”   So busy, in fact, that at one point I actually found myself mired in an immovable grocery cart traffic jam right there between the dairy section and the deli counter!

For the most part, however, everybody was being pretty good-natured about it: there were a lot of “excuse me’s” and “so sorry’s” going around, and people were laughing about how we should each have been issued  carts with blinkers and “back-up beeps!”  Of course, there were those who were clearly stressed with the whole situation as they struggled to make their way through this morass of shoppers no matter what; and I saw one exhausted young mother who was trying in vain to verbally ride herd on five active children!  Not only that, overhead and all around there’s the unmistakable sounds of “Santa Baby, put a sable under the tree for me…” occasionally interrupted by the store manager announcing a “Christmas Special” at the front of the store!

So unable to move for the moment, I’m standing there and taking it all in, realizing that this is truly the “holiday rush” in all its glory and utter chaos; everyone lost in their own Christmas busy-ness, trying to get to their Yuletide celebrations on time and in one piece!

And that’s when I heard it.

Somewhere in all that noise and confusion, as clear as a Christmas bell, I heard the sound of a very young child… singing.

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday, dear…”

She’s singing with joy, singing in a way like kids do, like nobody’s listening but that doesn’t matter!  Immediately I wanted to see where that song was coming from, but the moment was fleeting and by the time I even looked up the song had faded away and the child – whoever she was (!) – was gone.  I didn’t even get to hear who the song was being sung for (!) – it was just a tiny little “Happy Birthday” song bursting forth amidst all the noise.

And it occurred to me in that moment that I was in the midst of a parable… and that that crowded grocery store could just as well have been… Bethlehem.

Because on another night long, long ago, in that little backwater town the streets were filled to overflowing with visitors – government mandated visitors, actually – who’d come there to be “registered” for purposes of taxation.  Emperor Augustus had actually decreed that everyone should return to their hometowns for this registration, so every home was filled with relatives coming home and every vacancy at every “inn” in town was filled and then some.  And in keeping with the Jewish tradition of great hospitality, there were lots of family reunions and banquet celebrations going on all over Bethlehem with all the laughter and conversation and the occasional moments of drama that go along with such gatherings!  And this to say nothing of the presence of those Roman “registrars” who’d also come to town… in short, this town that was often considered to be far off the beaten path and “least among the rulers of Judah” had never seen a night as noisy, as busy or as utterly chaotic as this!

It was so busy, in fact, that hardly anyone who was there in the city that night even noticed that out behind one of the inns of Bethlehem – where there’d been “no place” for a young weary couple who had just arrived and she who was expecting a child– out behind this crowded inn, in a dark and damp stable surrounded by the likes of sheep and cows and donkeys (!), the time came for her baby to be born, and Mary “gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger,” an infant’s cradle fashioned out of what just a few moments before had been the animals’ feeding trough.

Amazing to think of it: that in amidst all of everything else that was happening that night in this “little town of Bethlehem,” a baby was born!  But not just any baby, mind you:  this baby was “a Savior, who is Christ, the Lord;” a tiny child who represented “good news of great joy for all the people” for this was the long awaited and long-expected Messiah of God’s people Israel.

This is the one whom the prophet Isaiah proclaimed would be named “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace,” the one on whose shoulders all authority shall rest and grow continually, the one who shall rule over a kingdom of endless peace, upheld with justice and righteousness “from this time onward and forevermore.”  This is the one that the angel Gabriel told Mary would be called the “Son of the Most High;” the child who is, as the angel described him to Joseph, Emmanuel, which means “God Is With Us.”  This is the “Word made flesh [that has] lived among us,” (John 1:14) what Paul described to the Hebrews as “the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being.” (Hebrews 1:3)  He is the “image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1:15); He is the light of the world that enlightens all humanity; He is the bright new morning star; He is love Divine and love incarnate; He is the Messiah; the Christ of Christmas, and the Conqueror of death; He is the way and the truth and the life…

and …he’s a baby (!); this tiny helpless infant who’s just been born in a manger, of all places.

Amazing to think of it:  that on that busy night in Bethlehem, a baby – this divine child who would be named Jesus – was born… and yet, despite the fact there was a bright star shining overhead and, not far away from there, a multitude of the heavenly host was praising God and singing songs of peace on earth and good will amongst all people…

…even then (!), hardly anyone even noticed.

Oh, there were a few: the shepherds, for instance, the ones who had experienced something holy and heavenly that night, and were compelled to go and look for the sign of which they’d been told, and to see this newborn Messiah for themselves.  There were the “wise men from the East” who were seeking “the child who has been born king of the Jews” and looked to the stars to guide them to the place of his birth.  And surely there were others: perhaps the innkeeper, or the guests at the inn who had boarded their animals in the stable, or maybe the faithful few in the neighborhood who’d heard of this birth and were moved by some Spirit to check it out.

Maybe… but in truth, there weren’t many… at least at first.

Because we also know that in amidst everything else happening that night, there was something else… something that was silent and holy and divine… something almost like a song piercing through the world’s confusion, its darkness and its sin as clearly as love itself… as God himself…

…God in the guise of a child!

And this is why we’re here tonight, why in the middle of all of our celebrations we’ve come away so to visit this little manger to see what has happened and to behold this wonderful, holy child.  In the words of the hymn from which we’ve been drawing some inspiration in this season, “O Holy Night,” “Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming, with glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.”

There’s so much going on all around us right now: in our own homes, with our families coming together for the holiday, among our friends and neighbors, most certainly in the world around us.  In ways personal, professional, political and ever perplexing, the world keeps on spinning and we stay busy in every sense of the word.  But tonight… on this night divine, something wonderful is happening, and we need not only to take notice but also to rejoice…

…because God has come to us and abides with us.  God is WITH us… for he is Jesus, our Emmanuel…

…and tonight, by his cradle we stand in love and adoration.

Glory to God in the highest!

And Merry Christmas, dear friends.

Amen and AMEN!

© 2019  Rev. Michael W. Lowry

Leave a comment

Posted by on December 24, 2019 in Christmas, Jesus, Sermon, Sermon Series


Tags: , ,

Home By Another Way

Leonardo Da Vinci, “A Study for the Adoration of the Magi.” (ca. 1481)

(a sermon for January 6, 2019, the Day of Epiphany, based on Matthew 2:1-12)

Today, as we’ve said before, is the Day of Epiphany, also known as “Twelfth Night” (or, the 12th Day of Christmas, as it were!), which celebrates the light of God that shone forth in Jesus Christ; and which according to Christian tradition, was the time when “wise men from the East” came seeking the Christ Child, bringing their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

There’s no question that the “three kings” – or more accurately, the magi – loom large in in our text for this morning: their arrival at the manger, with all of its flourish and drama, plays like the grand finale of the nativity story; and even theologically speaking, the mere fact of the Magi’s presence in Matthew’s gospel, as brief as it is, says a great deal about how Christ was given as a light unto the nations as opposed to simply the people of Israel.  So speaking as a preacher, I can vouch for the fact that there’s actually a great deal that can be said about these ancient and mysterious star followers; but all that said, I also must confess that this year as I’ve returned to this part of the Christmas story it’s seemed to me that before we can say much about the wise men, we really do have to say something about… King Herod.

That’s right; King Herod, also known as Herod the Great, the Roman appointed King of the Jews, a described by at least one commentator I came across this week as “the nastiest of all nasty kings.” Now, I should point out here that this not the same King Herod that figures in the story of Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion; that was in fact the son of the King Herod in this story, actually part of a long line of Herods: Herod Antipater, Herod Antipas, Herod Archaelaus, and on and on!  But, as pastor and author James C. Howell has pointed out, really, “Herod, Herod and Herod are the same guy.  All were egotistical, insecure petty potentates, in bed with Romans and clueless about God.”

However, there’s a valid argument to be made that this Herod, who reigned at the time of Jesus’ birth, was the worst of the lot.  Historians tell us that Herod was growing old and in his aging had become a mentally unstable tyrant who had also become so paranoid about his standing as king that “every whiff of palace intrigue and potential opposition threw him into a murderous rage,” (Thomas G. Long) so much so that Herod actually killed one of his wives, several of his own children (!) and other members of his family, all because he believed they were plotting to betray him! It’s said, in fact, that when Caesar Augustus heard what Herod had done to his own family, he said regarding Herod that he’d much rather “be his pig than his son.”

So… in the midst of all of this here come these “wise men from the East” (and the truth is we don’t know all that much about them, just that they were probably not kings in the traditional sense, but more likely philosophers and astrologers of the ancient world looking to the stars as the sign of something momentous and world-changing; something like the birth of a new King).  Here they come; “traversing afar” across the desert sands, following that “star at its rising,” and yet where do they go to find out what’s happened?  Not to Bethlehem – not yet, anyway – but right straight to Jerusalem and before “an aging, insane, and ruthless Herod, the King of the Jews,” so that they can ask about where they might find the new King of the Jews! I love what Thomas Long of Emory University has said about this; he writes that this “would be like going to the Kremlin in Russia and asking Vladimir Putin, ‘[Soooo….] where’s the new leader of Russia?  [You see,] we’ve come to pay him homage.’”  Needless to say, when Herod realized that these visitors from the East had come looking for a new king of the Jews and that his own reign of power was most certainly coming to an end, “it rattled [him] so badly that he shook like a leaf in the wind, and the whole city of Jerusalem trembled with him.”

Well, you know the story: ever the consummate politician, Herod sends the magi on their way with instructions to report back to him once they’d found the child so that, he said, “I may also go and pay him homage.”  And armed with prophecies about the child’s birth given them by the chief priests and scribes, the magi followed the star to Bethlehem and found “the child with Mary his mother.”  And of course, they’re “overwhelmed with joy” at this discovery and what it all meant – not only for Israel, but for all of the nations, even their own country far from Bethlehem – but once they’d knelt down with their gifts to pay him homage, something very interesting happens.  The magi don’t, in fact, send word back to Jerusalem; but, in a twist that we sometimes tend to gloss over in our telling of this familiar story, Matthew tells us, “having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.”

You see, one thing is for certain: once you’ve encountered Jesus, everything changes!  I mean, we’ve seen this all through the Christmas story, have we not:  Mary and Joseph, two impoverished teenagers, become the earthly parents of this “Son of the Most High,”  (Luke 1:32); lowly shepherds run through the streets “glorifying and praising God”  (2:20) for all that they’d seen and heard from the heavenly host; and now, after having had this collective dream that confirmed every bad feeling they’d had about their conversation with Herod “the Great,” these truly wise men decide that it’s not only prudent but the right thing to do to immediately change course and head back home by another way!

It’s true; once you’ve encountered Jesus, everything changes, and that includes how you deal with the Herods of this world! Because as I said before, to understand the place of the Magi in this story we have to understand who Herod was… and, yes, who Herod is.  Quoting Thomas Long once again, “Herod represents everything in human beings and human history that is haughty, cruel, violent and vindictive.”  Herod is the definitive reminder of everything that Jesus wasn’t; in that he was not born in the comfort and prestige of a palace, but rather in the silent simplicity of a stable far apart from the vestiges of riches and power; dwelling not among those who desperately cling to power by means of fear and cruelty, but rather among those whom Jesus would later call “blessed,” the ones who are “the poor in spirit, the mournful, the meek, the merciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemakers… it is among these little ones where Jesus is truly to be found.”

This is what happened at the manger of Bethlehem, friends: where once there was darkness that could overcome the world, now there’s light; where division and hatred ruled the day now there’s a spirit of unity and love; hopelessness has at long last given way to , unending hope, and peace on earth:  all of this and so much more because of this child “who has born king of the Jews.” If it seems as though everything this child is and represents stands in direct opposition to the world as we know it… you’re right!  Because when you encounter Jesus, everything changes; life changes, the world changes, you change (!) and even your journey ahead changes… so much so that like those magi before us you’re compelled to go home by another way!

There is a painting by Leonardo DaVinci (actually one of his earlier works, created around 1481) entitled “A Study for the Adoration of the Magi.”  I just sort of found this painting while in the midst of my study this week, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.  What’s interesting about this work is not simply what’s in the foreground – Mary and Jesus, surrounded by the Magi all kneeling in adoration of the Holy Child – but also everything that makes up the backdrop of the scene; which, in stark contrast to the calm and quiet visage of a starlit manger, actually depicts something of a ravaged world, complete with ruined buildings, fighting horsemen, men quite obviously engaged in warfare, and a landscape that’s clearly jagged and rocky and in great need of repair.  Apparently, there even looks to be something of a self-portrait of the young Leonardo, standing off to one side and yet surrounded by all this chaos and decay.  I’m not great interpreter of art, friends, but for me the message of the painting is clear: that it’s precisely into this kind of a world, a world that is teeming with all manner of sin and death, that Jesus has come; and it’s why you and I stand in the need of a Savior.

Maybe for you this morning it’s not so much the “chaos and decay” of life and this world that surrounds you; maybe for you it’s found in the weight of all the sadness and grief that you’ve been carrying on your shoulders; or perhaps for you it’s in the relentless struggle to live life with purpose and a modicum of integrity;  could be it’s in trying so hard to keep the faith even as the rest of the world spins increasingly out of control.  I dare say that figuratively, literally and yes, even spiritually, there are more than a few King Herods out here that would smack us down given the slightest opportunity!

But here’s the good news, beloved… Christ is born and light – true and brilliant light – has come into the world!  Jesus, who is the new King, the Messiah, the Lord (!), has come to us and now the world changes; and by his life-giving, sin-forgiving, hope-renewing word, so do we.

And lest that anyone of think that the time for bowing down at the manger has long since passed, the notion of paying homage to the new born king now to be stored away for another year along with the rest of the nativity figures, I’m here to tell you that even now we have this opportunity to fall down in worship in this amazing, life-changing gift of a Savior who has promised to be with us even unto the end of the age, and makes that promise palpable for us in a simple meal of bread and wine.

So let us come to the table; let us rejoice in his presence and power… let us be nourished and strengthened in this Holy Meal, and then, when we’re done, let’s resolve to outsmart Herod and all the rest of his minions… and go home by another way!

Thanks be to the God of Light and Life who has come to us in Jesus our Emmanuel.

Amen and AMEN!

c. 2019 Rev. Michael W. Lowry


Tags: , , ,

Sing We Now of Christmas: Glorious Now Behold Him Arise

magi(a sermon for January 4, 2015, the 2nd Sunday after Christmas; fifth in a series, based on Matthew 2:1-12 and “We Three Kings of Orient Are”)

The story goes that the little boy attending his first ever Christmas pageant was amazed by the beautiful story of Jesus’ birth and everything that goes with it: there were angels, shepherds, a stable with live animals; it was really quite a production, and the boy was clearly moved by the experience of seeing the nativity drama unfold.  But then, toward the end of the play the stage went dark and a spotlight shone toward the back of the church; and when the boy turned his head to see what was happening, he caught sight of the three royal looking figures entering the sanctuary from the rear.  “Don’t look now,” he whispered to his mother, “but I think God just got here… only I’m not sure which one he is!”

Actually, I’d have to say that was an easy mistake to make!   There’s just something about the arrival of those “three wise men” that brings any retelling of the Christmas story to a powerful, regal climax. I mean, up till now the story has been a rather quiet and earthy one, hasn’t it; the focus on two young parents, their new baby and the shepherds and animals who’d come to see.  But now, suddenly, there’s an air of worldly significance about what’s happening as these three visitor come from a faraway place bringing not only gifts of great value, but also some sense of validation as to the utter importance of this child in the scheme of things!  The kings’ arrival at the manger, with all of its flourish and drama, plays like the grand finale of the nativity story; and it’s no coincidence that John Henry Hopkins, who composed the song we’re looking at today (“We three Kings”), wrote it intending that it be performed at a Christmas pageant, and to that end, made sure that each of the three kings got his own solo verse in order to make a grand entrance!

And yet, who were they really?   We call them Kings; yet nowhere does Matthew refer to them as such.  Tradition has gone so far as to give each a name and a distinctive characteristic: Caspar (who is the oldest of the three, with a long, white beard), Melchior (who is African, black skinned with no beard, and the youngest), and Balthasar (who has Asian features and a black beard).  But the Bible says nothing of this; there are no names mentioned, nor of how many of them there were (some works of art that date back to the second century suggest that there may have been only two wise men, while there are some medieval resources that depict twelve gathered around the Christ child!).  They probably weren’t from the Orient, either; at least not the Orient as we think of it, that is, the Far East; moreover, their arrival was likely not on the night of the birth itself, but later on (that’s traditionally been depicted on the Christian calendar as happening on Epiphany, twelve days later – hence the “12 days of Christmas” – but some historians even suggest that they might have arrived up to two years later!).

We just don’t know for sure; basically, all we do know is that Matthew’s gospel refers to them as “wise men,” or “magi,” and that they were indeed “from the East,” probably Persia, where they most likely high priests of the Persian Empire who were often used as envoys for the Royal Family of Persia.  Thus after a fashion, they were royalty themselves, and carried power and influence that extended to courts of Herod the King, and beyond.   These Magi were, in fact, respected scientists, scholars and learned students of the stars and their movements in the night sky: astronomers, which would explain both their fascination and their utter diligence as regarded “the star they had seen at its rising.”  This in and of itself was enough to make Herod sit up and take notice, and such was the wisdom of the Magi that after they’d seen this child “who [had] been born king of the Jews,” they knew to take heed of a warning in a dream to go home to their own country “by another way.”

It’s a small verse there in Matthew, and marks the last we ever hear about the three wise men; but for me, it’s the verse that tells us everything. You see, this story of the magi comes down to more than simply their journey following the star or finding “the child with Mary his Mother,” more than even the gifts they brought of gold, frankincense and myrrh.  The importance of the magi has to do with what they knew to be true about this child and what he represented to the world.  And the beauty part is, they knew this even though they themselves were from away; and that, dear friends, is no small thing!

In my native state of Maine, of course, being “from away” is synonymous with being considered an outsider, apart from the dominant culture and out of touch with how things really are.  Maybe you’ve heard the story about the old-timer in town who finally passed away at 100-plus years old, and how the day after the funeral all the other old-timers in town were hashing over the deceased’s life and times.  One of them says, “You know, I thought that Enoch had lived here all his life, but I was shocked to learn in the obituary that in fact he was born in New Hampshire. He didn’t come to Maine till he was almost a year old!”  To which the other man says, “Ayuh… What a shame that he was from away!”  See, it didn’t matter if he’d lived in Maine for 99 and a half years; by that way of thinking, you’re either a native or you’re “from away,” and that forever rules your destiny!

Well, friends, there’s no denying the fact that the three wise men were people “from away!”  Not only did they dwell outside and away from Bethlehem, Jerusalem and all of Israel; but they also dwelt outside of the faith of Israel, apart, so to speak, from God’s covenant with Israel and the family of Abraham.  They were Gentiles, and thus outsiders; plain and simple as that.  And yet, who was it except for these very learned pilgrims from far away in the East who “observed the star at its rising,” who recognized it as a sign from God, and who then followed it!

They’d tracked the light of this star across vast stretches of desert and along mountain pathways that were arduous if not downright dangerous.  And yes, they’d also followed the star across national borders, amidst differing cultures that might well have viewed such phenomena with disdain and fear; and they probably kept going even in spite of their own particular brand of scholarly skepticism.  And they did so because… because, well, they knew. Somehow they just knew that this wasn’t an ordinary star shining above them, nor would this child be simply another newborn, but rather one unlike any they’d ever encountered before; this child that prophecy had foretold as “a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.”

Which makes it all the more moving that when they finally found the child, immediately they knelt down before him and “paid him homage,” which, more than merely giving the child some gifts, means that they made a pledge of allegiance to him, both spiritually and politically.  This, too, was because they knew, and even those oft-remembered gifts showed their understanding of who this child was and what he was to become: gold, representing wealth and royalty (a sign that he would be a king); frankincense, the incense burned daily in the temple of Jerusalem as a fragrant offering to God (which was a sign that he was holy); and myrrh, a bitter spice used to wrap the bodies of the dead (a sign that he was also destined to die).

Not bad for a trio of travelers who’d come “from away!”

And isn’t it interesting that for all the people that Herod the Great must have had around him to keep an eye on such matters as history and tradition and prophecy, it took those considered to be foreigners and strangers – people so out of the “loop,” so to speak, of proper society’s power and prestige – to recognize the truth of what God was doing in the world!

Throughout this sermon series, I’ve been commending to you the wonderful movie made a few years ago, “The Nativity Story.”  One of the many things I greatly love about this movie is that the three wise men are sort of there for comic relief (!): we see them several times throughout the course of the film, and they’re never exactly sure where they’re going and how they’re to get there; they bicker with one another the whole journey, and one of them is quite full of himself as to the level of his royal genius!  But what’s clear is they’re wise enough to know what they’re doing on that perilous journey from the east, and why. It’s what’s beautifully expressed in my favorite verse of the song we’re going to sing in just a few moments: 

“Glorious now behold him arise, King and God and Sacrifice; Alleluia, alleluia! Sounds through the earth and skies.”

The magi, you see, knew why they’d come; and moreover,  they knew why they then had to go home by another way… and friends, my hope and prayer this morning is that each one of us knows the same.

After all, in our own way these past few weeks of Advent and Christmas we’ve also made a pilgrimage to the manger; to pay our own homage to the child who lay there.  But now that Christmas is pretty much done for another year, we find ourselves back on the journey of life and living; trying so hard to take what we’ve received at Christmas so that we can “walk the walk” of  our Christian faith!  But sadly, ours is a pilgrimage that happens amidst a culture all too enamored of its own supposed wisdom and centered on skepticism, self-aggrandizement and pride.  And it would be so easy for us to just go back the way we came; to return literally and figuratively to “business as usual.”  But the thing is, once you’ve followed a star; once you’ve been to the manger, beheld the holy child and heard the alleulias that sound through earth and sky, how can you ever go back to the place you were before?

Once all that’s happened to you… what else will do except to go home by another way?

Beloved, with the coming of Epiphany in just a couple of days, we’ve reached the end of the Christmas season; and in terms of our worship, our reading of holy scripture and yes, even our singing, we’ve come to the end of the story of Christmas.  But make no mistake; the pilgrimage that brought us to manger has only just begun.  And while there may not be a grand and glorious star rising in the east to illumine our way as we set out on that “alternative route of life,” there is nonetheless a light; and it’s a light that shines further and brighter than any other into our hearts; and which spills abundantly outward along every pathway we travel.

It is the light that we’ve seen in Jesus Christ, our Emmanuel, and it is ours by God’s good grace.  May we be guided to that perfect light, beloved; and may our thanks be to God!

Thanks be to God!   Amen and AMEN!

c. 2015  Rev. Michael W. Lowry


Tags: , , ,

%d bloggers like this: