The Journey of the Magi given 1-4-15

                      Journey of the Magi

A cold coming we had of it,

just the worst time of year

for a journey, and such a journey:

The ways deep and the weather sharp,

The very dead of winter.

And the camels galled, sore footed, refractory,

Lying down in the melting snow.

There were times we regretted

The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,

And the silken girls bringing sherbet.

Then the camel men cursing and grumbling

And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,

And the night fires going out, and the lack of shelters.

And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly

And the villages dirty and charging high prices:

A hard time we had of it.

At the end we preferred to travel all night,

Sleeping in snatches,

With the voices singing in our ears, saying

That this was all folly.

Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,

Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;

With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,

And three trees on a low sky,

And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.

Then we came to a tavern with vine leaves over the lintel,

Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,

And feet kicking the empty wineskins.

But there was no information, and so we continued

And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon

Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,

And I would do it again, but set down

This set down

This: were we led all that way for

Birth or Death? There was a Birth certainly,

We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,

But had thought they were different; this Birth was

Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.

We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

I should be glad of another death.             -T.S. Eliot

The poem I've just read you is called "The Journey of the Magi", written by T.S. Eliot. In the poem, we get a vivid picture of the trials and tribulations of the so-called "Magi". But strangely enough, for a work of art dealing with such a traditionally joyous theme, the poem has always felt to me to be very sad. It's as if the teller of the tale was engaged in a great moment, a monumental piece of history, and somehow or other has lost the thread of what is going on.

What after all, did the Magi know about the Babe in the Manger?

Their stop off in the court of Herod shows that they had no real understanding

of the politics, much less the history or culture of Israel. They had no real idea who and what this Baby was. They were not Jews, so the promise of the Messiah was foreign to them. They were like actors who haven't read the script, spear carriers given torches to carry, trumpet players given the music for a violin solo.

These Magi, or Kings, or astrologers, or wise ones were goyim-- gentiles-- strangers who wore a different color of skin, and followed a different faith. They were probably Persians-- Zoroastrians-- followers of an ancient religion of Magic and witchcraft. So they were aliens from a different culture, strangers who spoke a different tongue-- outsiders. They really have no business in the story of the birth of the Jewish Messiah--no business at all. Unless-- unless that baby is more than a prophet, more than only King of the Jews, more than a national liberator, more than just a Messiah. Unless, unless… that baby has something to offer to all the nations and peoples. 

And if that is so, then these wise ones, or Magi, or kings, or astrologers or whoever and whatever they were do indeed have a place in His story. And it's a very important place indeed. Because it's our place-- yours and mine—it’s the place of all the nations and peoples of the world.

After all, what do you and I care if the King of the Jews was born in a stable two thousand years ago or so? Unless that Child is something to us, what's the difference? Unless the baby has a meaning and a ministry, a message for us-- the birth is meaningless.

And that's the real place of the Magi in the story. We need them to hold open a place for you and me-- in the story and at the manger. They remind the world that the Savior came for all. Outsiders and insiders, Jews and gentiles, rich and poor, old and young, men and women and children, LGBT and straight, brown and black and pink and tan-- He came for us all. 

These two or three or however many Magi there actually were, remind us that the baby's birth means that over two thousand years later, our lives can have meaning, purpose, and a vision of hope. The presence of the Magi shows that the baby in the manger is indeed Savior of the world, Deliverer of the nations, Ruler of all. Just as in the end it was never only those who professed the established faith of Israel who knelt before the cross, it was here at the begining not only the people of Israel who knelt before the manger.

Was King Herod there? No. He didn't even know what was going on.

"Star? What star? What are you guys talking about? King? What King? I'm the only king around here!" And when they showed him the star burning bright as sunlight-- the star he had somehow or other missed noticing-- his only thought was how to eliminate this potential political rival. And by the way, how was he going to get rid of these meddling busybodies?

Were the high priests and scribes there at the stable?  No. They could look up all the references in the Prophets to this happening. They knew where the birth was to take place.  But could they trouble themselves to follow the star? Could they bother to actually attend the birth, the Christ event, the coming of the so long awaited Messiah- -no. They could not be troubled.

So who actually was present at the birth? Outsiders, all of them. An unmarried teen-aged mom. A protector who wasn't even the father of the child. Shepherds--hirelings who were despised for following a way of life that did not allow them to keep the Laws of Moses-- always suspected of being thieves or worse-- outsiders within their own nation.

And of course, eventually these foreign astrologers showed up. Male or female, young or old—one, two, three or twenty--we don't know.  But we know that they were aliens and strangers in the land-- outsiders as well.

There's a very real sense of course, in which we are all of us outsiders in this life, in one way or another. We've all known what it is to feel excluded, shut out, different at least once in our lives-- and probably far more times than once.

We were just not "cool". We're nerds or loners—at least that’s the way it felt. We hung around with the wrong crowd in school.  Our skin is the wrong color. Maybe we’re even attracted to persons of the wrong gender.

We live in the wrong way. We grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. We came from the wrong nationality, We went to the wrong college or we didn’t make it to college. We follow the wrong profession, believe in the wrong ideals, speak the wrong language, talk to the wrong people at a party, get involved in the wrong relationships-- or at least it feels that way.

We all know what it is have regrets. We all know what it is to feel at times that we've messed up a situation, or a possibility or a responsibility or a relationship or even our whole life. We all know what it is to be ignored or ridiculed or wounded for no good reason other that we are somehow different. We're all outsiders in one way or another.

We're all outsiders when we allow those feelings to have power over us. We're all outsiders when we allow ourselves to be judged by someone else's criterion of acceptability, or success or popularity or happiness. We're all outsiders when we try to live our lives on someone else's terms instead of our own. 

We're all outsiders when we shut out those who genuinely care about us and pursue those people or goals that society dictates we should.  We're all outsiders when we try to live our lives according to the narrow values and so-called wisdom of this world. We're all outsiders when we live our lives wrapped  tight in swaddling clothes of self pity, separateness, alienation and loneliness.

Remember the last line of Eliot's poem?  "Were we brought all that way for birth or death?" Alongside the birth of the Christ child, the Magi had witnessed a death-- the death of old faith-- the death of old false contentment with the way things were-- the death of sin and broken-ness and alienation within-- the death of old life, old self, old world. It's clear. Just like that old astrologer, we must each of us die to self, before we can ever really begin to live.

And at that birth was yet another death. It was the death of superstition alongside the birth of spirituality. It was the death of intolerance alongside the birth of tolerance. It was the death of suspicion alongside the birth of trust. It was the death of the concept of outsider, alongside the newly born realization that we all are family—God’s family. It was the death of fate, alongside the birth of possibility.

Of course, those old ways of life, those old prejudices still have yet to be

laid to rest. Even today-- nearly two thousand years later-- their demonic power still haunts the world. But at that moment in that cold cave, their ultimate authority was broken forever. In the birth of that baby, was the birth of a new hope for the world—the last and greatest hope for the world.

It was the birth of a new vision. It was and is, the vision of the day to come in which every head shall be bowed, and every knee bent--when all peoples shall freely know the grace and acceptance of the One who made us all.  It will be the day when at last there will be no outsiders-- because we will all live in loving communion with the One who made us. It will be the day when justice shall flow down like waters, and peace like an ever-flowing stream.

On that long-awaited day in history as yet unwritten, that humble baby shall return as Cosmic Christ, reigning  in power and glory and triumph . On that day-- in our lives and spirits-- every heart shall be made new and God's New Commonwealth shall at last, come-- on earth as it is in Heaven.

That day is yet to come. It seems a very long way off sometimes. And yet it can come—It does come. It comes all the time-- in our lives. It comes whenever you and I choose to begin to live it out. It's that simple. Live with integrity. Live with hope.

Accept yourself, and share the Good News of God’s acceptance of us.  Live as a child of God's Commonwealth. And feel it being born within you.  Come to the Table. Come into the family.  Die. And live. It's that easy.  And it's hard as hell. But it will bring meaning and purpose and joy to you. It will make your life worth living.

Let us pray.

God of all joy, we give you thanks that in the Epiphany of your Son Jesus

Christ, you have shown us all the way to true life in you. You receive as your children all those who seek peace and righteousness, and you make your promise of eternal life to the humble, the merciful, the pure in heart of this world. Enable us, like Christ, to find our happiness in doing  your will, so that we too, may live to love and serve you forever. In His own holy name we pray. Amen.