By Another Road (Epiphany C)

 

By Another Road
Homily delivered for the Feast of the Epiphany (Year C)
6 January 2013

8:00 a.m. Said and 10:00 a.m. Sung Eucharist
Trinity Episcopal Church

Ashland, Oregon 

Isaiah 60:1-6 ; Ephesians 3:1-12 ; Matthew 2:1-12 ; Psalm 72:1-7,10-14

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

`And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

for from you shall come a ruler

who is to shepherd my people Israel.'"

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. (Matthew 2:1-12)

God, take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

The last job I had in Washington, D.C. was very interesting.  I was the director of a team that regularly wrote and gave briefings on foreign affairs issues for Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and, on occasion, President George W. Bush. The first week on the job, I got a call from the chief of staff in the Vice President’s Office, Scooter Libby, asking me to escort a group of senior policy makers abroad to brief allies on an area of some sensitivity. “We know how much an expert you are on this, and I wanted to ask you as soon as you got in the office.”  Flattered, I said I was glad to do whatever I could.  Libby then asked what my analysis of the matter actually was. I told him, to which he replied, “Oh no, that will not do.  What we need you to say is this….”  I replied that I did not understand the data in the way he described, and that I could only provide my analysis as I saw it.  “If you could see your way to spin things in the way our country, needs,” Libby replied, “we will make sure your career benefits.  If not, just know that I have a very long memory.”

This was a year and a half after the huge press storm and political controversy about “cherry-picked” intelligence and false reports about weapons of Mass Destruction in Iraq just before the U.S. invasion.  The Administration was loudly saying all such problems were things of the past.  But here I was on the receiving end of a hard-sell effort to make me provide analysis-to-specification.   I declined: I dramatically thought that it would be selling my soul to the devil.  At the very least, it would rob me of any credibility among my subordinates and colleagues.  So I held out, thinking myself pretty moral and courageous.  Only later did I find out that the chief of staff’s office had in the previous month made the threatening carrot-and-stick offer to every single member of my staff and all my inter-agency counterparts.  Since I was the new kid on the block, Scooter thought I would be an easy mark.   Oh the blow my ego took when I found that out! 

Now I am not telling that story to criticize one Administration or one party over another.  Manipulation of facts and spinning the truth are part of the human condition.  I know of no government or ruler who does not do it at least a little.  Knowledge or the appearance of having knowledge is power.  So wise men or women, advisors, and experts will always be presented with the moral choices that come with dealing with power, for good or for ill. 

The moral quandaries faced by people “in the know” are the great subtext to today’s Gospel reading.

Magi, keepers of strange and mysterious lore, arrive in Jerusalem from afar. “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage,” they say.  This bit of intelligence disturbs King Herod.   It identifies a possible threat to his rule.   Herod—no one else—has been named “King of the Jews” by powerful cronies in Rome.  Any other claim to the title was a national security threat.  

King Herod is upset and paranoid.  In the “kiss up, kick down” mores of a hierarchy, the whole court bureaucracy gets upset.   In the words of the story, Herod is frightened and “all Jerusalem with him.”   The King calls in his brain trust, his National Intelligence Council, to get their assessment. 

The coming of the Magi, of course, evokes the great vision of Isaiah 60.  There, the prophet looks on the battered and broken down city of Jerusalem after the exile and sees its future glory renewed and built up again as a shining light to the world by tribute brought from afar, gifts of wealth and spiritual power (gold and incense).  The Magi’s rising star evokes another vision, that of yet another stranger from afar at the time of the Exodus:  Balaam, who prophesied the coming of David with the words, “A star will come out of Jacob; a scepter will rise out of Israel” (Numbers 24:17).

Herod’s analysts, however, make no reference to these passages.  The king, in order not to tip his hand to subordinates, has not requested the whole background, but rather the simple question of where the prophecies said that “the king of the Jews” would be born.  The court experts are cautious, knowing that Herod himself was born in Idumea.  Suspecting the King’s murderous intent, and trying to turn his paranoia away from Jerusalem and the court, they refer him to an obscure passage in one of the minor prophets, Micah, describing in poetic terms the birth of King David:  “But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah . . . from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old …” (5:2-4). 

With this crucial bit of information, Herod acts.  Underscoring the ever more cloak-and-dagger way this story is progressing, Herod summons the Magi to a meeting in secret.  None of Herod’s advisors are to be privy to the covert intelligence gathering operation he wants to set up.  They must not know who is rival is, they may throw in their lot with him.  He gives the Magi a task: go to Bethlehem, find where this royal baby is, and then report back.   In a classic use of the “false flag” technique of recruiting sources, Herod tells the wise men that he too wants to worship this new King if only they’d be so kind to go and find out where be can be found.   

They go, and find the baby.  But obviously something does not ring true in Herod’s cover story.  These masters of lore know court life.  They recognize in Herod every other petty tyrant they have ever served.  

Perhaps Herod had a nervous “tell” that blew his “I only want to worship him” cover story even as it left his lips. Friederich Beuchner in his story “The Birth” places this on the lips of one of the Magi:

“… Herod knew nothing of [our lore], and he jumped at the nonsense we threw him like a hungry dog and thanked us for it. A lost man, you see, even though he was a king. Neither really a Jew nor really a Roman, he was at home nowhere. And he believed in nothing, neither Olympian Zeus nor the Holy One of Israel, who cannot be named.  So he was ready to jump at anything, and he swallowed our little jingle whole.  But it could hardly have been more obvious that jingles were the least of what he wanted from us.

“'Go and find me the child,' the king told us, and as he spoke, his fingers trembled so that the emeralds rattled together like teeth. 'Because I want to come and worship him,' he said, and when he said that, his hands were still as death. Death. I ask you, does a man need the stars to tell him that no king has ever yet bowed down to another king? He took us for children, that sly, lost old fox, and so it was like children that we answered him. 'Yes, of course,' we said, and went our way. His hands fluttered to his throat like moths.

“So finally we got to the place where the star pointed us. … [There were the] man and the woman. Between them the king. We did not stay long. Only a few minutes as the clock goes, [but really,} ten thousand, thousand years. We set our foolish gifts down … and left.

“I will tell you [a terrible thing].  What we saw on the face of the newborn child was his death. A fool could have seen it as well. It sat on his head like a crown or a bat, this death that he would die…”

And so the Magi, in addition to the gifts of gold and incense found in Isaiah 60, also give the baby Myrrh, that principal ingredient in ointments for preparing the body for burial. 

In the story, a dream warns the Magi of Herod’s murderous intent, and they return to their homeland “by another road.” 

The fact is, the Magi had been compromised by Herod and they knew it.   By staying with the child, they guaranteed his death.  So they call an early end to Herod’s little covert action and get out of town quickly.  They can’t just say “no” to Herod as I did to Scooter Libby, so they flee. They return to their own country “by another road.” 

Life is sometimes messy.  We often are compromised by the brokenness of others, by their manipulation, their plots or intrigues, by their failure to respect boundaries. 

This happens in the public realm; it happens in the work place. It is common also in personal relationships.   It is what lies behind what psychologists call a “codependent: relationship, where two people feed and enable each other’s addictions, obsessions, and destructive behaviors. 

Parents sometimes do it with children, or children with parents.  Couples do it to each other.  Even such a simple relationship as giving welcome or help to someone in need can be corrupted if the assistance offered ends up enabling bad behavior or delaying the consequences of bad decisions.  It can be abusive if the person requesting the assistance is simply manipulating using and abusing others to enable him or herself to continue pursuing the course that got them into trouble in the first place. 

The story of the Magi tells us that if you are caught in such a mess, sometimes you just have to say, not only “No,” but “Hell, no!”  Sometimes the best thing to do is simply to walk away, break it off, call a time out, and stop enabling.  This is not heartless or unloving.  This is actually what basic morality and responsibility demands of us, and usually manifests the best love you can show. 

This is one of the things Jesus has in mind when he tells us to be as shrewd as snakes but innocent as doves (Matt. 10:17). 

In the coming week, I want you to think about this issue in your quiet time or meditations.  Are there any situations in any area of my life—work, church, family, friends—where I am compromised, where I have been maneuvered into doing foolish or unwise things?  Am I enabling self-destructive or abusive behavior by others?  How might I best get out of the state of moral compromise?  Do I need to confront someone?  Do I need simple to walk away?  Think about, pray about it.

And then follow those Magi and their star, even if it means going home by another way.   

In the Name of God, Amen.