The search for truth in ’24
This weekend, many Christian churches are recognizing the conclusion of the Christmas celebration with Epiphany. Epiphany remembers a visit to Bethlehem by a group of μαγοι, which translates from Greek to “astrologers” or “wise men.” (Case-Winters, 27) There are only two accounts of the birth of Jesus in the gospels, and today’s passage from Matthew is the only one that includes this visit.
Despite this brief mention, the magi weigh heavily in Christmas tradition. As biblical scholar Warren Carter writes, “The magi have spawned extensive traditions. They have been turned into kings, numbered, named, celebrated in festivals, and paid homage in a Middle Ages cult of relics and devotion that was opposed by the Reformers. Their gifts have been interpreted christologically (gold for kingship, frankincense for high priesthood or divinity, myrrh for humanness or death) or as denoting discipleship qualities (variously, prayer, faith, good works, reason, mercy, etc.).” (Carter, loc. 38894)
They can be blamed for the giving of gifts at Christmas, which some might argue has overshadowed all other aspects of the season. They were the inspiration for the “We Three Kings” song, though that count and descriptor come from the quantity and value of the gifts they brought and not from scripture. (Tannehill, 79)
Wise men appear in many Christmas pageants and manger scenes, and an emphasis you’ll often find is on their assumed status and the gifts they bring. I think a more important note is that they were guided by a star or some other celestial event. These were astrologers, perhaps from a land in the east. They came from a very different context than others in the nativity stories. Biblical scholar Robert Tannehill writes that “The magi are Gentiles in the extreme, characters who could not be more remote from the Jewish citizens of Jerusalem in heritage and worldview.” (Tannehill, 80)
Their extreme gentile-ness might speak to the reason Matthew included their story in his gospel. He was pointing out that, while Jesus was considered the King of the Jews, he was to be a savior for all. The sign in the sky that led the wise men originated with a cosmic power whose influence stretched beyond the borders of empire.
At the same time, he suggests that Jesus fulfills prophecy from Hebrew scripture. In the response of the scribes and chief priests to Herod’s question of where the Messiah would be born, he references the writings of Micah and Samuel, who said a ruler would come from Bethlehem.
The μαγοι reached Jerusalem hoping they would find truth, but the capital city did not fully reveal what they sought. For that, they had to make the five-mile trip to Bethlehem.
I love seeing holiday lights through the twelve days of Christmas and up until Epiphany. To me, it’s a reminder that December 25 is just the first day of celebration. I also like to think that they stand in opposition to a timeline that suggests Christmas is over once all the presents are unwrapped.
Those lights illuminate some of the longest nights of the year, and they also help usher in the beginning of a new one. And 2024 promises to be interesting, if only because it’s an election year. Thankfully, it’s unlikely to be as difficult as 2020, which you probably recall is the year that COVID entered our lives.
The search for truth in 2020 sometimes proved difficult, to say the least. I apologize for recalling bad memories, but do you remember all of the uncertainty we faced during the spring of that year? Some suggested we’d only be dealing with COVID for a few months. Others suggested herd immunity was the best way to overcome it. The initial emphasis on prevention involved meticulously washing our hands and our groceries, and leaving our package deliveries outside for a couple days before bringing them in. (Please note, by the way, that I’m a big fan of hand-washing, which is a great way to avoid other illnesses.)
Then we learned that COVID mainly spread through the air, so wearing face masks became a sensible and simple solution . . . for most people. Sadly, the simple truth that wearing masks saved lives was not enough to convince others. Like many other issues that should unify us, such as fighting the climate catastrophe that threatens our collective well-being, wearing masks became partisan. For some, the championing of individual rights and false narratives took precedence over the greater good. School board meetings, workplaces, churches, and even hospitals became contexts for conflict.
I was working as a chaplain at Hershey Medical Center at the end of 2021, and we were still near capacity with COVID patients at that time. On several occasions I prayed with the families of those who were dying from COVID, and it was sad to see how many of them had regrets about not taking the virus more seriously. Then there were others who were so immersed in the false narratives that they chose to remain in denial; I remember one father who refused to allow the hospital to record his son’s cause of death as COVID.
By the time the worst of the pandemic had passed, COVID had claimed the lives of over one million people in this country. That’s a simple truth from which you’d hope we can learn.
Sadly, the inefficacy of masks was not the only big lie that emerged in 2020; another was that the presidential election was stolen. Despite the absence of evidence for that, the party in power decided they wanted to stay in power by any means necessary. Those means came to include an armed insurrection, the anniversary of which we’re also observing this weekend.
So while the new year brings the hope that it will be better than the last, and especially better than the last election year, our pursuit of truth will continue to be a crucial endeavor.
Speaking of clinging to power, Herod wasn’t keen on the idea of there being another king for the Jewish people. Tannehill writes what Herod might have been thinking: “A king is born, but a king is already here; and there is room for only one king.” (Tannehill, 76)
Herod had a nice arrangement with the Roman occupiers. Though not an observant Jew himself (remember he had to ask where the Messiah was to be born; Gale, loc. 12), he ruled over the Jewish people. He maintained an arrangement with the chief priests from the temple in Jerusalem, who were able to maintain their influence as well.
So it wasn’t just Herod who became concerned when the magi showed up asking about a newborn Jewish king. As Biblical scholar Anna Case-Winters writes, “When King Herod was frightened, the text says ‘all Jerusalem’ was frightened with him. Likely this ‘all’ would mean the elite and powerful centered at Jerusalem, those who had something to lose if there were changes afoot.” (Case-Winters, 27)
The powerful often don’t like when people ask unexpected questions, especially when those questions threaten a system they find comfortable. As we know from observing contemporary politicians, most of their efforts seem focused on maintaining their positions, and so they become entrenched. They would prefer that we squabble amongst ourselves rather than direct our focus on them.
Case-Winters goes on to write that
“The announcement from the wise men is political dynamite for Herod. Jesus is the true King of the Jews in the line of David. Herod is an imposter, a usurper. Matthew carefully [draws] out the genealogy that established Jesus’ royal lineage, and now even Gentiles from far parts seem already to know that this newborn is the King of the Jews.” (Case-Winters, 28)
These astrologers weren’t navigating by the carefully-designed constructs preferred by the Roman occupiers or their lieutenants. As my colleague Sara might say, they were operating on a different map. They were on what Tannehill would refer to as an “ultimate quest that is expressed in non-biblical and non-theistic ways in contemporary life, and [demonstrated] that the yearnings even of those who do not know fully what they seek are met in the act of God at Bethlehem.” (Tannehill, 79)
The μαγοι were in search of universal truths, which Herod was powerless to change.
When I was a school psychologist, one of the age groups I enjoyed working with most was fourth graders. In my experience, fourth graders knew a lot of stuff, had not yet become mean, and were as objectively honest as anyone you might meet. They weren’t swayed by politics, and could provide a straightforward analysis of issues.
Sometimes I like to channel my inner fourth grader in response to seemingly-complex questions. This happened recently as I was completing one of the final steps in the ordination process for the Presbyterian Church (also known as PCUSA). The ordination process for PCUSA is extensive, requiring not only the earning of an Master’s of Divinity degree, but also additional coursework that includes a year each of Hebrew and Greek, a year-long internship at a church, a year-long internship as a chaplain, and the successful completion of five ordination exams. There are also multiple checkpoints with the presbytery (the local PCUSA council) throughout the process.
Last month, I was completing the last of those checkpoints, a Q&A in front of several dozen pastors and other church leaders. This final examination offered them an opportunity to question my theology one last time before I was approved for ordination. The first question asked was about my thoughts on sin and, by extension, original sin.
This is certainly a worthwhile question, and one you’ll find covered in almost every Christian theology book; Douglas Ottati, one of my favorite theologians, spends 96 pages on the topic in one of his most recent. The question of why sin exists in the world is one of the big questions and, sadly, some of the answers folks have come up with over the years have proven harmful. It’s a question I’m happy to tackle in an hour-long discussion, but not one I’m capable of answering eloquently in three minutes.
So I summoned my inner fourth grader. I responded that sin is putting one’s own needs ahead of the needs of others, and that original sin is the extent to which such an instinct is inherent in humans. My questioner seemed disappointed in my response, perhaps hoping for something more detailed, but I think I succeeded in answering his question without doing harm.
Maybe that’s a good place to start with some of the most challenging issues we face. Maybe they should all be subjected to what I term “the fourth grader test.”
One thing I know has been weighing heavily on the minds of those in our community is the number of folks who are living unhoused in Harrisburg and the surrounding area. It’s a concern that can be complicated by logistical and other details, but what if we started with a simple verdict, that nobody should have to sleep outdoors in 20-degree weather. How about we start there and work backward?
What if we decided that our country’s multi-million dollar weapons systems should never take the lives of children? Better yet, what if we decided that war is never the answer, and we devoted an equal amount of funding, creativity, and talent we provide defense contractors to organizations that promote peace?
What if we decided that nobody should die and suffer because they can’t afford health care?
What if we decided that if you put in forty hours of work a week, you should be able to afford life’s necessities?
What if we decided that the production of fuels that cause the most suffering in the world needed to cease as soon as possible?
What if we decided to always double down on universal truths?
What if we rejected the complications offered by the modern-day Herods in our midst, who try to convince us that achievement of such goals is unattainable? This while they are enriched by defense contractors, insurance companies, and fossil fuel producers. We like to think that Herod’s solution to the threat posed by a baby born in Bethlehem — ordering the murder of children to protect his status — is a relic of the past. Sadly, children are still suffering and dying at the hands of those in power with similar motivations; it just occurs more often in a passive manner.
As we navigate 2024, let’s follow the example of the wise men, who rejected the influence of those wielding worldly power. Rather than becoming immersed in political squabbles, let’s stay focused instead on those truths that are obvious even to fourth graders. The birth of Jesus didn’t just point to an eventual reconciliation of all things, it also began a life that serves an example for how to exist in the present, regardless of where you come from. As Tannehill writes, “The final inclusion of all nations in God’s saving plan is not to be left to the end of time, to God and the angels at the last day, but the vision of the goal of history sets the agenda for action in the present.” (Tannehill, 80)
Siblings in Christ, I look forward to engaging in that action with you as we sojourn together in pursuit of truth and God’s kin-dom.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
Works Referenced
Case-Winters, Anna. Matthew: A Theological Commentary on the Bible (Belief: a Theological Commentary on the Bible). Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015. Kindle Edition.
Carter, Warren. “Matthew.” In Fortress Commentary on the Bible: The Old Testament and Apocrypha, edited by Gale A. Yee, Hugh R. Page, Jr., Matthew J. M. Coomber. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2014. Kindle edition.
Gale, Aaron M. “The Gospel According to Matthew Introduction and Annotations.” In The Jewish Annotated New Testament, Second Edition, edited by Amy-Jill Levine and Mark Zvi Brettler. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017. Kindle Edition.
Ottati, Douglas F. A Theology for the Twenty-First Century. Grand Rapids, Michigan: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2020.
Tannehill, Robert C. “The Gospel of Matthew.” In New Interpreter’s Bible, Volume VII. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2015.
