THE EPIPHANY OF OUR LORD
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Readings: Isaiah 60: 1-6 and Matthew 2: 1-12
“SUITABLE PRESENTS” – A poem for Epiphany by Ann Lewin
If it’s the thought that counts,
What were they thinking of – to give him these: gold, frankincense and myrrh?
Extraordinary gifts to give a child.
When Mary pondered, later, on these things,
I wonder if she thought that these are given to all –
Gold our potential; gifts that make us Royal, each in our own domain.
Incense: our aspirations, prayers and dreams, calling us on;
Myrrh: soothing healing for our pain.
Not gifts for children,
But, like him, we’ll grow.
The feast of Epiphany comes round again, and each year one is presented with the many puzzles of the story we love to hear. Who were the visitors? What were they? How many were they? Where had they come from? What was the star they saw? And what about those expensive gifts they brought for the child Jesus? What sense are we to make of the story?
One of the strongest clues as to the identity of the kings is the use of the word ‘magi’: that is the plural of ‘magus’. Matthew the gospel-writer uses a very definitely Persian term. Modern scholarship tends to think that the magi came from the Parthian Empire, centred in present-day Iraq, Iran and Afghanistan. The magi were a priestly hierarchy of Zoroastrianism. Within this tradition priests paid particular attention to the stars, and gained an international reputation for astrology, which was highly regarded as a science. And as for Parthians – those of you who have ever struggled with reading the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles – the account of the Day of Pentecost – may remember that among those listed as being present in Jerusalem were Parthians, Medes, Elamites….and so on.
When Jews were exiled to Babylon in the sixth century before Jesus many stayed there, in the eastern region of the Persian empire. They took with them ancient writings and traditions. We can think of the prophet Daniel, who was made chief magus for the Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar. Maybe he passed down an awareness of a coming king who would rule over the nations. Certainly it seems the magi set out in a definite search of somebody of great importance.
The story relates that the magi came to King Herod at Jerusalem. In a sense he was not a really a king, being completely subordinate to the Roman empire. At this time the great Augustus Caesar, formerly known as Octavian, had come to be sole imperial ruler in the wake of Julius Caesar’s assassination. Octavian hosted games in Rome in 17 BC to commemorate Julius Caesar, and during the games, a comet hung in the sky over Rome. It was said that the comet was Caesar’s soul, ascending to the gods. Augustus, alias Octavian, realized the comet was a powerful symbol. It embodied Caesar’s divinity, and Augustus used the symbol of the comet to bolster his own rule. He placed a comet on coinage with his likeness.
The story of the wise men being drawn to Bethlehem by a star then has added significance. While Augustus was adapting the symbol of the comet for himself and calling himself Son of God, the magi, searching for the truth and for the real God, were led by another star – be it comet, supernova or conjunction. When the wise men arrive and tell of their quest, we read that Herod was troubled ‘and all Jerusalem with him.’ Matthew here sees that both the Jewish faith and the Roman empire were to be subordinate to this king whose arrival had been foretold in the Hebrew scriptures, and who would be great to the ends of the earth.
Let’s now look at the OT reading from Isaiah chapter 60. At first sight it looks to be all about Jerusalem, which before its capture by the Babylonians was a great trading centre. In the earlier chapters of Isaiah, the expectation is that the nations will come to Zion – that is, Jerusalem – to learn about God. But after its downfall there is no city for them to come to: it’s rubble. Instead, the generations who have been born and bred in exile are now invited to God’s new home. Amidst the ‘thick darkness’ of depression and hopelessness caused by the exile, the glory of the Lord blazes out. At Epiphany, God shows the world that he has come to make a home for himself among us, a home that cannot be conquered or destroyed as the original city of Jerusalem was. God’s new home might be represented by the child in the manger, where a baby is building a home for the whole world.
So in the gospel story, the world outside Judaism is brought in to emphasise that Jesus is not just a Jewish Messiah, as many would have expected, but is Lord of the whole world, receiving homage from non-Jewish visitors. This, then, is one of the key messages of Epiphany, that the salvation Jesus brings and offers is universal. You can think of it in terms of diverse nations and cultures across the world, or of the different people you know, with their various characteristics and circumstances: Jesus’ life and death is an offering for all.
Much pen and ink has been expended in considering the meaning of the gifts brought by the wise men to Jesus. As you will have learnt from ‘We three kings’ and other carols, the traditional meaning of the gifts has been symbolised as gold for a king; frankincense for a deity, and myrrh ‘a future tomb foreshows’ – indicating Jesus’ death thirty years hence, his experience then being the same as that of any human being. There is certainly nothing wrong with those interpretations. The wise men brought those gifts from the east, the land of origins, and with the gifts they brought the wisdom of the ancient world. We can assume that the magi were people of intelligence and education. Professor Ian Bradley notes that the quality of wisdom, and the values of expertise, learning and considered judgment and mature understanding that go with it are inclined to be dismissed and devalued nowadays in favour of a crude populism which panders to ignorance and prejudice, so it is no bad thing to honour those wise men with their evident learning. All this was laid down before this young child – yet king and God. ‘They knelt down and paid him homage.’ My dictionary defines homage as ‘acknowledgement of superiority; dutiful reverence.’
When we consider the effort involved and cost – in various ways – of the wise men’s journey, we are often moved to consider what is the effort we make in our homage to Christ, and what would be the gifts we would lay before him.
So who is Jesus Christ for you, for me, today? In what ways do I pay him homage? Do I live out my life in ‘dutiful reverence?’ in terms of time, money and effort, do we offer God our best; the first fruits of our life or the leftovers? Bishop John Pritchard asks, “Today, will we let God into the edges of what we do, or the centre? Wise men”, he adds, “still search for a king and bring him the best of their lives.”
But I also rather like the slant put on the gifts by Ann Lewin, in her poem ‘Suitable presents’ which I’ve printed on the pewsheet. Ann Lewin imagines Mary pondering whether the gifts to Jesus might have been intended for us all. Gifts, she says, that make us Royal. She sees ‘Gold’ as our potential – what we might be: each in our own domain. We sometimes talk about people as ‘pure gold’ – their special personality brightening our lives and the relationship we have with them. Then ‘Incense’ – which Ann Lewin interprets as our aspirations, prayers and dreams, calling us on. Incense which rises to God, its fragrance sweetening our prayers and lingering after we have left the room, just as our prayers are taken to the heart of God and left there in trust. And ‘Myrrh’ – soothing for our pain; even our pains and sorrows are known to God and encompassed in his love.
So while we might ask what are the gifts we might bring and offer to our Lord, let us also reflect on the graciousness and generosity of the gifts we are given as beloved children of God – gifts that make us Royal. “Not gifts for children” as Ann Lewin says, imagining Mary seeing the wise men leaving their offerings with the young Jesus. “But, like him, we’ll grow.”