Broadway Christian Church · Columbia, Missouri
Morning Worship · January 7, 2007
First Sunday After Epiphany
You Missed It By Nine Miles
Rick Frost
Call them wise men if you want. The interpreters have called them all kinds of things: a band of scholars, astrologists, exotic visitors. We sang a song earlier about the three kings from the orient. The original text uses none of those words. In the original text, Matthew says these folks were magi, which means “magicians,” not because they were of mysterious or supernatural powers, but because they were persons of exceptional skill in a particular area.
I suppose one of the reasons we have called them wise men all of these decades and centuries is because, as you know, so many, many people back then and ever since who thought they were so smart, so wise, so with it, somehow have completely missed the birth of the baby. Not just a baby, but the baby, the baby Jesus, the one, according to Scripture, who was born to shepherd, guide, lead, and govern God’s people.
It reminds me of my own blood kin. She is one who doesn’t believe in God, doesn’t believe in Jesus. She is angry, quite frankly, with most of the world. She doesn’t want anything to do with church or the community of faith. She lives her own life in her own way, which, quite frankly, generally has not worked very well. She is a pretty unhappy person.
Interestingly enough, however, she goes to Christmas Eve services with her children and her grandchildren every year, and every time they sing “Silent Night” – which is once a year – tears roll down her cheeks in torrents. It’s very touching, but the truth is, she missed it. Thus far she has missed the one born to lead, to guide, to shepherd, to strengthen her life, to lover her, and to give her the meaning, and purpose, and joy that she so wants. It’s close, but no cigar. Lord knows, you know, and I know that she is not alone. Is she?
But the magi, these are the outsiders. These are the visitors. These are the wise men, and they are called wise, because they got it, you see, and that is what makes them wise. They found their way to the child, and they worshiped. They bowed down. They acknowledged this baby as the one born to be the Christ, the anointed of God, the long-awaited savior, healer, leader of the people of God.
Now, the scholars say that Matthew, who, by the way, is the only gospel writer who even mentions this story, puts this amazing, incredible story in his gospel for a reason. You see… One of the things you and I need to remember is that Matthew, who was that Jewish tax collector who decided to follow Jesus, knew his Bible fairly well. He knew that there was a very old prophecy about 600 years before the birth of Jesus found in Isaiah 60. It’s in your Bible. It’s in mine. He knew, the scholars say, that his people way back when – 600 years before – had been defeated in a battle, and their people had been taken away. They were exiled, enslaved by the Babylonians, which, of course, as you know, today is Iraq.
Several generations later, however, they were freed. They made their way slowly back to their homeland. When they got there, when they reached Jerusalem, their hearts sank. That once beautiful, golden, huge city lay in ruins. It was through a heartbroken people that the prophet of God sang his song found in Isaiah 60. He sang to their heart and said, “Your city will be rebuilt. Kings from the East will come to you and bring all sorts of tributes.”
Ah! Remember that phrase, because it says, “Once again you will be a great nation. Once again you will be a great international power. Once a great nation, you will be so powerful that other nations will come knocking on your door and seeking your protection and your favor.”
For 600 years that’s what the people of God in that place longed for. That’s what they prayed for. This is the way they envisioned the Messiah – God being with them. Does that sound familiar?
This is the way they envisioned it, folks. This, said the scholars, is what Matthew is trying to say when he talks about the three, rich, visitors from the East who come to his town, Jerusalem, looking for the newborn king of Israel. Isaiah 60 is the backdrop for this story, folks.
But according to Matthew not everybody is so thrilled to hear that these three from the East have come calling. Matthew says that when Herod, the present king of Jerusalem, hears this, he is frightened. He is frightened because he is king, and a bunch of outsiders coming to his city and looking for some new king… Well, that just didn’t set very well.
So, Herod calls a meeting of all the Bible scholars at the University of Jerusalem and asks, “Where is this messiah, that everybody has been talking about, going to be born?”
Theologian Walter Bruggeman so beautifully tells us that the biblical scholars did a very interesting thing. In this story we’ve heard since we were children, listen to what happens. They say, in effect: “Your majesty. The answer to your question is in the Bible. Yes, it is. But it is not Isaiah 60, because that text says Jerusalem will be a powerful and prosperous place, the very center of the world. Obviously, that is not the case here today.”
So, Herod, who like a lot of politicians is not really up on his Bible very much, says to his scholars, “OK, go in there and find me a text that explains our situation a little more accurately.”
So, they quote to him – get this – not Isaiah 60, but they quote from Micah 5. It goes like this: “But you, O Bethlehem, out of you will come from me one who is to rule Israel. You will see one who stands and shepherds his flock in the strength of the Lord, and they shall live securely, for his greatness will reach to the ends of the earth, and he shall be the one of peace.”
Folks, what we have here are two very different ways of envisioning God with us. One, Isaiah 60, envisions the future as being something that will come with God’s power and strength, and it will come through powerful people, powerful institutions, centers of social, economic, and political strength. There are a lot of people who are looking for that today, but Matthew says another view is presented in Micah 5. It’s an alternative view. It is God getting God’s thing done in dirty, little, no-place towns like Bethlehem.
Have you ever been to Bethlehem? It’s an amazing place. It’s just like that. It’s small, and it’s dirty. It’s just not a place where most people want to go, and it hasn’t changed for 4,000 years. But here we go. Micah 5 says, “out of Bethlehem one will come.” There will be a baby lying in a feeding trough there instead of some Lone Ranger on the throne. God is going to slip in to the odd places and in to the odd times, taking the future out of the hands of those who are powerful and away from us who want and need so much to be in control.
Matthew’s story, folks, of the visitors who come from the East is huge. It’s the only place that we find it in the Scripture, and it’s huge because it shows us two very different pictures of how God gets things done.
The scholars note that Bethlehem, by the way, is nine miles south of Jerusalem. But if you were Micah, you might say that Jerusalem happens to be nine miles north of Bethlehem. On the night that Christ was born, folks, one of those places was the center of the universe, and one was not.
Now, nine miles might not sound like a very long distance for you and me, unless you are walking somewhere. But Matthew’s story has the wise men nearly missing the birth of the Christ by just that much. They had come to the big city looking for the Messiah, but it happened to be in a little, tiny, dirty town about nine miles away.
What about us? There are those who tend to look for our hope, for our peace, for our future to come from the powerful, from the prestigious. Some of us sat down this morning and scoured our newspapers to see what some “Herod” was doing in Jefferson City, or Washington, D.C., or Baghdad, or Beijing. There is probably not going to be much news tonight on the evening news about Bethlehem. Yet, Matthew says, “Don’t be a person who misses it. Don’t miscalculate. Keep your eyes open, because the Lord of the universe tends to operate in very humble places. The actions and the activities of God often take place in places we don’t expect.”
The great Catholic Christian writer Flannery O’Connor is reported to have been asked often why in the world she stayed in Milledgeville, Georgia. Who’s been to Milledgeville? That’s what I thought. Nobody.
She is an amazing lady. She spent her entire life in Milledgeville. Why in the world did she spend her entire life in Milledgeville? People wanted to know? Why didn’t she leave Milledgeville and go to the center of the western literary world in New York City?
O’Connor said, “You know, I’ve experienced some success in my life as a writer, and because I have experienced some success, I have to watch myself a little bit. For instance, in Milledgeville, my mother always invites friends over for tea every Wednesday afternoon. My main function is to sit like a lady on my mother’s green sofa in order to cover up the huge grease spot that’s there. That’s my main function in her life, and when that is your main function, it has a very powerful way of keeping you humble, and that is good for a writer.”
Isn’t that good?
Bethlehem, you see, is a whole bunch more humble kind of place than nine miles further down the road in Jerusalem.
Eudora Welty, also a successful writer, was asked why she didn’t move from her native home in Jackson, Mississippi, to the literary scene in New York City. Mrs. Welty pulled out a copy of the local Jackson newspaper and read to the inquirer the headlines of the day. The headlines were “Woman kills husband after Sunday School.” (OK, ladies, don’t get any ideas. OK?) Mrs. Welty noted, “Where on earth am I going to get material like this in New York City?”
Maybe that explains what they tell me is why so many of our great writers spend most of their lives in small towns. Did you know that?
Or maybe it’s part of the interpretation of today’s text, since in small, out-of-the-way places – place where most of us live – one of the best ways to see the workings of God happens to be with a God who takes delight in working in small out-of-the-way places like Bethlehem, or Broadway, or Huntsdale, or Midway, or Deer Park, or Millersburg, with very small people like Mary and Joseph, and Kim and Jacob, and Mike and Mary, and you and me. Where have you seen a sign of God? But it’s the power of God, the wisdom of God for those who believe.
I know this probably doesn’t apply to anybody here, but there may be some folks you know who, quite frankly, continue to attempt to save themselves in all the wrong ways: by knowing the right people, having the right job, being in the right relationship, driving the right car, wearing the right fashions, accumulating the right stuff, following the right diet, whatever. You know somebody like that? It’s not working for them?
I have a tip for you. Invite them to just make that nine-mile trip from the big city to Bethlehem and there meet God in the flesh, located in a cow stable. I predict, if they do, they will not go home anywhere near the way they came.
And all the people say… “Amen.”