Epiphany Sermon (Matthew 2:1-12)

*This sermon was preached at Peace Mennonite Church on January 7, 2024. You can watch a video version on the church’s YouTube channel.

My husband and I recently visited our daughter, who is studying abroad, in Chile. Her host family took us on a beach trip, and it was too cold to swim (at least for me), but it was beautiful! I caught glimpses of huge birds off in the distance and realized they were pelicans. I was intrigued, awestruck, but they were so far away that I couldn’t get a good look. As we headed home, I needed to stop just down the road to find the bathroom, which was near a little market. And as I came to the end of the row of market stalls and prepared to turn and go down the next I stopped in my tracks. Because there, sitting on the rocks in the ocean just about twenty feet from me were at least ten pelicans. Not everyone in our group even got to see them because people in the other car didn’t get out to use the bathroom.

Several years ago for my birthday I decided I wanted to have the best sweet potato fries in Kansas City. I did significant internet research and ended up at The Brick. It’s a little hole in the wall where you can get a burger for less than $10. My daughters thought it was a little sketchy, but wow, those were some good sweet potato fries.

Coincidentally, also on my birthday way back in 2007, acclaimed violinist Joshua Bell played his 1713 Stradivarius violin in a Washington D.C. metro station. While he played for 43 minutes, seven out of 1,097 people who passed by stopped to listen. At the end of the performance, there was $52.12 in his open violin case–about half the price many people would have paid for a single ticket to one of his often sold-out concerts.

Sometimes good things, beautiful things, life-giving things are found in less-than-obvious places. . . . That’s what the magi learned when they followed their star to find “the king of the Jews.”

I am endlessly fascinated by this story and I have always been impressed by the dedication of the magi–to watch the sky and notice this one new star, to recognize that star among the thousands that they saw in the night sky. And then to follow it. To leave the comforts of their presumably luxurious homes and trek across the desert. I have long admired the attentiveness and adventurous spirits of the magi.

And yet, as my morning prayer companion Rev. Carol Rose pointed out this week, they didn’t quite get it right. They followed the star for a long distance–hundreds of miles on foot (slash camel). But then, once they saw the star was in the general vicinity of Jerusalem, they quit paying such close attention. They just assumed that a king would be born in the capital city, in the palace. It makes sense, right?

“In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, magi from the east came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star in the east and have come to pay him homage.’”

I have always read this as the magi stopping to ask directions: “Hey, King Herod, where’s this new kid king?” Which really is ridiculous. Carol’s comment made me realize that it’s much more likely they stopped at the palace because they assumed that’s where the child king was living. They went to the expected, obvious place–which was close enough to where the star was leading them; Jerusalem is only about six miles from Bethlehem.

But Jesus was not where they expected.

At some point they quit paying attention to the star–to the leading of God–and just went with their own worldly assumptions. And–spoiler alert–it didn’t turn out well. It caused unnecessary delay and a longer journey home for the magi. It also caused great suffering for the people whose king felt threatened and turned violent when he was alerted to the presence of the new king.

It’s a new way for me to think about this story, and I’ve been wondering how often we do this.

How often do we follow God to a certain extent, maybe even a great extent, but then stop at what seems like the logical, reasonable place, even though the star is traveling on just a bit more?

It’s no coincidence, I think, that the shepherds got to Jesus before the magi. Geographically speaking, of course, they were much closer and so we’d expect them to get there first. And it’s also true that they couldn’t have made the mistake the magi made of going to talk to Herod in the palace first. Because there’s no way they would have been allowed anywhere near the palace, let alone given an audience with the king. It is the wealth and status of the magi that give them even the possibility of stopping by the palace when they get to town.

Sometimes, privilege can lead us astray.

And sometimes, if we keep our hearts and minds and spirits open, we can let go of the assumptions we carry along with our privilege and follow the star to where it actually rests: over the good and beautiful and life-giving thing in the less-than-obvious place.

Sometimes we turn the corner and see the gloriously awkward pelicans gathered on the rocks.

Sometimes we venture into the sketchy restaurant with the best sweet potato fries.

Sometimes we are one of the seven people who notice just how magnificent the background music in the metro station is.

Sometimes we follow the star a little bit beyond where we expect it to lead all the way to Bethlehem: to the good and beautiful and life-giving child, Jesus, who has an eternal tendency of showing up where he is least expected–and most needed.