Epiphany
Sermon preached by the Revd Anna Matthews
The feast of the Epiphany is a tale of five kings. Christmas carols and the Christian tradition may give us three, but Matthew’s account of the visit of the wise men tells us that the story includes King Herod, too, as well as the child born king of the Jews.
Matthew doesn’t actually specify the number of kings who come following the star. In fact, he doesn’t call them kings, either, but the way the story was told and read in the light of Old Testament prophecy soon established some sort of royal heritage for these magi from the east. This whole gospel passage is dense with prophetic fulfilment and historical allusions: set beside the passage from Isaiah we’ve also heard today, we learn that ‘nations will come to [Israel’s] light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn…’ and later in that same passage we get the camels that traditionally make an appearance in the nativity story, bearing gifts of gold and frankincense. Our Psalm (72.10-11) foretells that the kings of Tarshish and of the isles shall render tribute to the royal one of Israel, and that the kings of Sheba and Seba shall bring gifts, and fall down before him.
As the Christian tradition has meditated on this passage and its meaning, it has embroidered the biblical narrative, drawing out of it the deep theological truths and themes that it contains. In time, the three wise men acquired names – in the western Christian tradition, Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. In art, they were represented as showing the three ages of adult humanity: elderly, middle-aged, and young; as well as representing the known world, come to worship the one who is the light of the Gentiles, the Saviour of the whole world.
They come to Bethlehem following a star. Another part of the tradition places them as distinguished scholars from Persia, schooled in what was then thought to be the science of astrology. They represent learning, the search for wisdom, the science that seeks truth and understanding – and not as mere abstractions. The journey from Persia to Bethlehem is about 1000 miles. This was not a journey to be embarked on on the spur of the moment: it took planning, and provision, and above all a deep desire not just to learn the truth but to see and live the truth – a longing that would need to sustain the magi through cold desert nights and hard terrain and hostile border guards. These visitors from lands afar embody philosophy – the love of wisdom – which meets its fulfilment in the wisdom of God incarnate in the Christ child.
And when they get close, they go to Jerusalem – which is only about six miles away from Bethlehem. Jerusalem is the royal city: it’s where the king lives, and so it’s where they expect to find the one they’ve travelled all this way to see. But they’re wrong. It was their own expectations, not the star, that led them to Herod’s palace, but this royal child was to be found elsewhere, in Bethlehem, a little, now obscure place, as the prophets of old had foretold.
Bethlehem was the birthplace of King David, remembered as the greatest of Israel’s kings, and from whose house the people of Israel awaited a Messiah. The prophet Micah, quoted by Matthew, had foretold that from Bethlehem would come a ruler to shepherd God’s people Israel. But nothing much had happened in Bethlehem since the time of David, about 1000 years before the birth of Christ. Hope and expectation and power now centred in Jerusalem, currently ruled over on behalf of the occupying Romans by a puppet king, Herod, whose violence and cruelty made him as hated as he was feared.
Herod is immediately alert to the threat posed by anyone claiming to be king of the Jews. He knows how precarious his power is, how quickly the population would rise against him given a figurehead to rally behind. His only interest is power, and how to hold on to it. His next act is to order the indiscriminate killing of all boys under two in the town of Bethlehem. Their murder is politically expedient. And in the wise men’s questioning of Herod, a hint is given of how this story will end. They seek the one born king of the Jews. This is not a title usually used by Jews (who would tend to refer to the king of Israel). The next time it appears in this Gospel will be when it is hammered over Jesus’ head, on the cross. Herod the Great, like his son Herod Antipas, rules his kingdom by violence and force – as will be true for all the Herods who tread a bloody path through history after them.
But God’s kingdom is different, and the star beckons the three kings on, to their journey’s end. Here, ancient prophecy is fulfilled, seekers find truth, and the world its light, in this royal child. And as they unpack their bags, the gifts they proffer tell us more about who this king is.
Gold had long been associated with monarchy, and much is made in the Old Testament of the wealth of Israel’s kings. So this gift reinforces the message that Jesus is a king. Already Matthew’s told us that he’s a descendent of David. He’s born in Bethlehem, royal David’s city. Now the gift of gold confirms his royal birth.
Frankincense too draws its meaning from the Old Testament. It was burnt before the ark of the covenant in the Sanctuary. The ark was the place where God’s glory dwelt: it was a physical sign of his presence and promise to his people. The incense burnt before it was a sign of holiness and divinity – so with the gift of frankincense to Jesus, we’re invited to see that this is a holiness and divinity no longer hidden in a cloud of glory, but made manifest in human flesh.
And so to the myrrh, which has two main uses. First, it’s mixed with the oil used in the anointing of the high priest, the one who mediates between God and Israel. And it’s important to remember that ‘Christ’ literally means ‘anointed one’: the Messiah figure whom Jews expected to restore the throne of David and usher in God’s reign. The myrrh, then, is a sign that this Anointed One is here, but the second use of myrrh shows us that the popular expectation of the Messiah, an expectation of the restoration of Israel’s political and national fortunes under a powerful king, won’t be met. Instead, the shadow of the cross is cast over this child. For the second meaning of myrrh anticipates the end of the gospel, when it will be one of the spices used in preparing Jesus’ body for burial.
This child born king of the Jews will bring in a kingdom unlike any the world has known. To the three kings bearing gifts he is the end of their life’s work and quest, the wisdom and truth come down from above – as he is for every longing, searching heart. Because his kingdom is unbounded by death, he reveals and brings to judgement the impotence and cruelty of Herod and his ilk. His is a kingdom where all can find a place – alongside the three kings, around this child there is space for us all, drawn together by mercy, by love, and by worship of this one who is the dawn’s brightness, as he opens the way for us to a new and everlasting day.