There are a few surprises about the nativity stories that took me an embarrassing number of years before I discovered them. The really obvious one is that John’s Gospel begins with that magnificent Prologue and has no mention of birth stories. I think I always knew that. But it took me a while to work out that neither does Mark’s Gospel. He jumps straight in with John the Baptist and the call of the disciples. You can imagine my shock when I realised that the shepherds and angels only appear in the Gospel of Luke. And as for Matthew’s Gospel … well, how old were you when you realised there is no mention of three wise men, and that Jesus is not in a stable but in a house?
The fun bit about dwelling with scripture is the way it takes you gradually deeper and deeper into the story God wants us to hear. Christmas carols are a precious thing, they connect us with our youngest selves and with one another at a time of wonder and joy. But the Bible is not in the business of cultural nostalgia, it has depths and riches to share which will transform our lives if we pay attention.
I imagine that Herod was quite used to high-ranking guests attending him at court. He was a wealthy and cosmopolitan man of power who worked for the Roman Empire. He left a legacy of sons and grandsons all called Herod, of colossal building projects, including the second Temple and with a reputation as a tyrant. These ‘Magi’ from the east would have piqued his interest, but his working assumption would always have been that they were there to pay him homage.
The Greek word used by Matthew for ‘homage’ refers to an act of submission, of bowing or prostrating yourself before a person of great dignity or authority. It is used three times in this short passage and brings to mind the words of the hymn, ‘Oh worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness, bow down before him his glory proclaim’. Herod would have been just fine with that.
Worship – and the beauty of holiness – is at the very heart of the feast of the Epiphany. We bring ourselves here tonight in an act of complete submission to the one who now stands alongside us. The birth of this child means that we are no longer alone. It is tangible evidence that we are loved, that we are precious and that our lives matter. On that holy night, Heaven and earth have met and life will never be the same again.
How apt that this cosmic occurrence should bring forth astronomers. The term ‘Magi’ originally referred to a caste of Persian priests with special skills in interpreting dreams. In Matthew’s Gospel, we meet them as scientists of the stars who interpret the movements of the heavens as a guide to major events. Matthew does not mention that there are three of them. Tradition inferred that from the naming of the gifts from amongst their treasure-boxes. What is evident is that on finding the child, they recognised what they had been seeking and their instinct was to fall before him and worship him, with their bodies and with their gifts.
Biblical Commentators have made much of the fact that these men were of a different faith to Mary and Joseph, indeed that they were foreigners and outsiders, who might not even have spoken the same language. ‘Other’ we might say today. Reading that beautiful passage from Ephesians alongside their story gives us an idea of the way Paul and others interpreted this moment as the twin tracks of good news for Jewish people and good news for Gentiles. He writes of ‘the boundless riches of Christ’ and the ‘the wisdom of God in its rich variety’ which is now made known to rulers and authorities. The echoes of the astronomers from the East call to us through his words.
But today we focus on worship as their instinctive, intuitive response to the astonishing gift of God through Mary of the word made flesh. These men had interpreted the signs of the ages and allowed it to lead them to Immanuel: God with us. Opening their hearts to the heavens had brought them to this place, this moment. And we re-create it every time we allow our hearts to lead us home, to meet here with Jesus, to worship and adore.
‘What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man, I would do my part. Yet what I can I give him? Give my heart.’
The collect for the epiphany invites God to transform the poverty of our nature by the riches of God’s grace. As we enter the house where Jesus is, perhaps we can accompany the Magi in homage to him. To open our hearts and allow him to change us into the people God needs us to be in 2025.
