Starry Eyed & Worldly Wise

Isaiah 60: 1-6 & Matthew 2: 1-12

Roger Lynn

January 8, 2017

Epiphany Sunday

(click here for the audio for this sermon)

Down through the years we’ve been given all sorts of names and titles. Some folks know us as kings. Others call us the Magi. Some say we were Oriental. Mostly though, we get referred to as Wise Men. But regardless of what we are called it is all rather amusing, because at the time we never would have dreamed that anyone would worry about calling us anything. How could we have known that we would be remembered? How could we have guessed that what we did would so capture people’s imaginations? You’ve never really known very much about us. That Matthew fellow is the only one who ever wrote down our story, and even he didn’t tell very much. But that hasn’t stopped the dreamers and the storytellers over the years from expanding what little they had to go on into countless stories and conjectures about who we were, what we did and why. 

You call us the Wise Men – but in looking back at what we did, it seems as though such a title is paradoxical at best. It might be more appropriate to describe us as foolish, starry eyed dreamers. Maybe that is why we have so often captured the imaginations of dreamers. They see something of themselves in us. With nothing more to go on than the appearance of a star, we packed up our traveling gear, collected a few precious tokens, left our homes and our families, and set out on a journey to another land. Does that really sound like something “Wise Men” would do? Is it really the kind of example you want to lift up for your children to follow? 

I wish that I could explain to you why we did it. But I can’t. I couldn’t explain it then and I’ve never been able to explain it since. Knowing about the star was one thing. After all our years of study and observation of the heavens, it was an easy matter to see in that new star an announcement of some great importance. There were many scholars from all over the world who came to the same conclusions about the star. What set us apart, and what I cannot explain, is that we chose to follow the star. It was the voice of our intellect and our reason which spoke to us about the star’s meaning. It was another, deeper, voice which called us to follow. How can I explain such a voice? How can I tell you what a difference it has made to respond to that calling?

But respond we did! We went to find the One whose coming even the stars proclaimed. Our searching led us first to a foolish, lost man named Herod. He was not really a Jew. He was not really a Roman. He believed in nothing. He was at home nowhere. So he was quick to jump at the bits of nothing which we threw his way. “Beware of beautiful strangers,” we told him. “Watch for an unexpected change of fortunes.” It was the kind of foolish nonsense which people such as Herod thrive on, because they don’t know to even look for anything more.

We told him all this so that he might assist us in our search, and indeed he seemed anxious for us to find this One who would be king. But he took us for fools. “Find him so that I may come and worship him,” he said to us. But as he spoke you could see the truth in his eyes. It was not worship which he had in mind – it was death. It did not take a Wise Man to see as much. 

Well, we didn’t let on that we knew. We threw him a few more bits of insignificant “wisdom” and went our way – promising to return when we had completed our quest. But even knowing what we knew and having seen what we saw, we could not have suspected the enormity of the tragic slaughter which would later result from the orders of that lost and haunted man. But we knew enough to rid ourselves of his company and steer clear of him in the future. You would do well to remember that a king who would slaughter the innocents will not cut a deal with you. 

The remainder of our journey was over all too quickly. We located the house and found the child. We stayed only a little while, and yet it might have been ten thousand years for the impact it made in my memory. Our gifts were presented – those trinkets which had seemed so shiny and precious when we started, but now seemed to pale next to the wonder of this One before whom we knelt. We presented our gifts, and then we left.

You may wonder why we did not stay longer. I will tell you, though it is with no pride that I do so. In the few moments we were in his presence, we could see the shadow across his face. It was the shadow of his death. And we knew, as surely as we knew anything, that to stay with him would be to share in that death. And so we left. 

But I will tell you one thing more. From that moment on I have never really understood what it means to be wise. We were wise enough to recognize the star and foolish enough to follow it. We were wise enough to see Herod for who he was and foolish enough to avoid his promise of rewards. We were wise enough to recognize the child for who he was, but we were not foolish enough to stay. Perhaps the real wisdom would be to see beyond the shadow of death to the promise of life, and to risk staying to find out.