A Marginal Story for Pagans & Nerds ~ Matthew 2:1-12

 

I have nerdy children. I don’t know where they get it from – probably their mother. Perhaps the nerdiest thing they do is to have pun-offs at the table over a meal. Maybe, you think, well, that’s not too nerdy but they have them like rap battles where they give shout outs when someone comes up with a zinger of a line.

Most of the writers of Scripture were nerds as well and Matthew was no exception. Sure, he was a tax collector, demanding some sick math skills, but he also had some serious literary chops and he’s showing them off in this story. And while I am not a nerd (ahem) – I loved every moment of our passage this week. So let’s geek out together and do a deep nerd-dive of Matthew's story.

The structure and story of Matthew 2:1-12, is a literary trick, a sort of word-magic, called a chiasm. A chiasm is fairly common literary device, used by Scripture writers that involves repeating words, grammatical structures, or concepts in reverse order. The word chiasm comes from the Greek letter chi, which resembles the letter X, and represents the crisscrossing or intersecting pattern revealing the main point at the very center of the X. By seeing the pattern, you can better understand what the author is trying to say, by noting the contrasts or oppositions, you can understand what the author is trying to do. So the structure of Matthew 2:1-12 looks like this:

A. Curious Magi came asking “Where?” – 2:1-2 (cf. Numbers 24:17)
        B. Frightened Herod heard, asks “Where?” – 2:3-4
            C. Chief priests and Scribes answer, quoting Micah 5:2 “In Bethlehem.” – 2:5-6 (cf. Psalm                         72:10-11; Isaiah 60:1-6)
        B2. Frightened Herod sent the Magi to Bethlehem in order to kill the child. – 2:7-8
A2. Curious Magi went to Bethlehem wanting to honor the child. – 2:9-12

So let’s follow Matthew’s nerdy pattern and see where that leads us. I’m happy to say that it will lead us to a God-with-us, a God-come-down, a baby born in Bethlehem, who welcomes and works with pagans and nerds.

1)    A. Curious Magi came asking “Where?” – 2:1-2 (cf. Numbers 24:17)

Matthew sought to begin our story by keeping Christmas weird. Not for the sake of creating controversy or showing how smart he was but because it was controversial and weird! It’s a fringe story of strange characters and none perhaps so strange as the Magi, wise men, kings. Who are these guys? Is it just guys? Are there only three?

 So let’s get into it. The word Magi [μάγος] doesn’t mean “wise” or “learned” or “king” and is not a Greek word but is an adopted Persian word referring to a special caste of Zoroastrian priests within the Persian empire or modern day Iran. These were non-Jewish followers of the prophet Zarathustra who spoke of the God, Ahura Mazda who was locked in a battle against the great, evil spirit, Angra Mainyu, for the destiny of the universe. Their sacred text is called the Avesta and they still exist today though largely stamped out by the presence of Islam. It would be incorrect to call them “wise,” not because they were uneducated, but because spiritually and culturally there very practices of astrology and divination were expressly forbidden by the Torah as being wicked (e.g. Leviticus 19:26, 31; 20:6, 27).

Deuteronomy 18:9-13 is indictment enough: "When you enter the land the Lord your God is giving you, do not learn to imitate the detestable ways of the nations there. Let no one be found among you who sacrifices his son or daughter in the fire, who practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium or spiritist or who consults the dead. Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord." So there is a sort of white-washing going on, not in our Bible, but in our own Christmas imagination that we must understand and sit with. It’s true that singing “We three pagan, Zoroastrian priests . . .”  doesn’t roll off the tongue so well but by re-historicizing the Magi as pagan priests we better understand Matthew and continue to lean into the question we asked last week, “Who is this baby for – some or all?”

The magi were the “wrong” people who were the heroes of the story. They saw God first and asked “Where?”. By means of their illicit astrological expertise, these pagans happened upon a sign. How did they know that a star signified the birth of a Jewish king? They must have learned it from another pagan prophet, Balaam, who made it into the Bible prophesying that “a star shall come out of Jacob” (Numbers 24:17). You remember Balaam, right? He’s the pagan prophet hired by the king of Moab to curse the Israelites on their way to the promised land but every time he opens his mouth, he can only utter a blessing. Perhaps that prophecy filtered down to them.

By making these guys simply “wise men” or by transliterating the word Magi without spelling out the fact that these were “detestable” pagans we remove the radical recognition that these non-Jewish priests, who were defined as despicable by the Torah, recognized that God was at work first. By refusing to remember their feared ethnic and spiritual foreignness, we risk muting the radical reality that the incarnation signals – this baby may be Jewish but he is king of all – and even so-called wicked ones, who shouldn’t know it, travel far and offer their lives to him.

2)    B. Frightened Herod heard, asks “Where?” – 2:3-4

In contrast to the curious Magi, we have Herod asking the local religious scholars of the day, “Where?”. These were supposed to be the wise ones who should have seen the evidence but until the pagan priests come and ask first they do not recognize it. What hinders their ability to see the star? What hinders ours? Perhaps they forgot to look up?

More than simply not being curious, they are afraid. It can be hard to look up when you’re afraid. We should not discount the level of conflict, fear, and dis-ease in this passage. Before Herod asks anything, the story tells us that he is afraid (2:3) and all of Jerusalem with him (2:3). That’s the nature of despotic rule. Its subjects are forced to experience what it experiences, particularly whatever makes that ruler afraid. They don’t want you to look up. They want you to look at them. They want you as afraid as they are and want that fear to focus on them. And Herod was a particularly fearful guy. He had ten wives, ordered multiple assassinations, including assassinations of some of his own sons, and, changed succession plans multiple times.

We’re supposed to marvel at these oddly opposite responses. The outsiders see it. The insiders don’t. The outsiders are curious. The insiders are afraid. Matthew is nerdily telling us – a curious, upside-down-kingdom, overflowing with mercy, is what this baby is all about.

3)    C. Chief priests and Scribes answer, quoting Micah 5:2 “In Bethlehem.” – 2:5-6 (cf. Psalm 72:10-11; Isaiah 60:1-6)

Now we reach the center of the chiasm - a passage from Micah 5:2. It answers the question that the Magi and Herod voice out loud —the question of “Where?” this king will be born. But it does even more than that. It becomes a focal point for how we should understand who this king’s coming rule.

Matthew wants us to see and know that Jesus was where the Biblical story was headed all along and that that story was more than “who will shepherd my people Israel” but also about God’s great plan to shepherd us all.  Here’s the great reveal and what Matthew is up to. He’s more than just pointing us to an ancient prophecy about where the coming Jewish king will be born – not that that wouldn’t be cool enough. He’s also pointing us toward how Jesus’ will reign and rule as king and thus how to read and understand Micah’s own prophecy in a Christocentric way.

First, Matthew is revealing the good news that this coming king and don’t kill enemies. They convert them. The Magi – these pagan Zoroastrian priests are coming geographically from the ancient world of Israel’s greatest enemies – Assyria. They are stand-ins for this ancient enemy, of which the prophet Micah declares “will be destroyed” (5:9). When you encounter one of these prophecies, be sure to read farther and wider than one verse. When you do that, you read Micah saying that the messiah would bring security “to the ends of the earth. And he will be our peace when the Assyrians invade our land. . . . He will deliver us from the Assyrians when they invade our land and march across our borders. The remnant of Jacob will be in the midst of many people like the dew from the Lord” (Micah 5:4-7). When you place the broader prophecy in Matthew’s story, it’s about Israel being delivered from pagan Assyrians. And how is that done? Not by killing them, as Micah seems to assume, but, as Matthew points out, by inviting them to the manger! - not with border checkpoints that keep them out but by letting them “march across our borders” with gifts. Micah’s feared pagans, Matthew is telling us, are thwarted not by the strength of Israel’s armies but the love of God reaching Israel’s enemies.

Second, and you shouldn’t be surprised, God’s strength and victory are signaled by a wider tent in which pagans are coopted as blessings. Through the appearance of pagans, Matthew is highlighting how the Magi represent a live action drama of the redemption envisioned in Psalm 72:10-11 and Isaiah 60:1-6, in which pagan kings go on a pilgrimage to come and worship the One true God. But Micah’s prophecy also adds to this by claiming to wayward Israelites of God’s covenantal love by noting that God revealed his glory in the past and redemptive might by coopting – who? It’s none other than the pagan priest Balaam who God used as a source and force for blessing.

There’s so much more going on. So much more I have to say but I have to stop. I’ve run out of time though I could continue to talk so much more about Matthew’s chiastic masterpiece and what it is doing but perhaps stopping in the center is enough.  

And what does this center reveal to us? What is Matthew trying to say? The Bible is deep enough, thoughtful enough, open enough, to welcome and wrestle with any of your questions, doubts and fears – even if you’re a pagan. Be curious, travel to far off places, ask questions and listen. Don’t give into fear and remember well that God can be found anywhere. The Bible isn’t some paint by numbers, silly old book. It’s a twisty-turny spiritual masterpiece that beckons you to come and explore. You can be a nerd, bring all your intellectual abilities to this book and this baby and find yourself welcomed at this manger. The love of God is deep enough, thoughtful enough, open enough, to praise pagan priests who are condemned as wicked and turn them into blessings. The love of God through this baby is capable of converting enemies and making them friends, coopting wickedness and turning it to goodness, cuddling curiosity and turning it into worship. The birth of this baby is deep enough, thoughtful enough, open enough, to welcome all who are seemingly unfaithful. O come let us adore him! Who is this baby for? Pagans and nerds, pagan and nerds! Amen.

Marginal Messengers ~ Luke 2:8-20

This isn’t some Disney tale and it didn’t look like this. 

 

The region of Bethlehem was mostly desert, so there were no grassy hillsides. Grazing sheep in the desert meant constant movement to find adequate food and water. Shepherds had to cope with the fierce sun and then very cold nights. Since water is scarce, most of what they found was used for drinking (by both sheep and shepherds) leaving little for hygiene and even less for the ritual washing practiced by many faithful Israelites (cf. Mark 7:1-5). Not surprisingly, shepherding was considered a poor and lowly occupation in this world.

It was also dangerous. They had to watch over the sheep “by night” when desert predators roamed a great physical as well as economic threat because a lost sheep could mean lost wages.  Shepherds would have been illiterate. They were probably dirty and smelled like animals. They were houseless - “living out in the fields nearby.” 

If I asked you to describe a shepherd from this world, you would probably describe an older man. However, in the ancient world both genders tended goats and sheep, and many were children. The New Testament scholar Amy Lindeman Allen points out that often it was “children [who] participated in the welfare of their households through shepherding.” Even scripture bears this out. Several children in the Hebrew Bible are described as shepherds such as Rachel (Genesis 29:6–9) and David (1 Samuel 16:11) So the Bethlehem shepherds were near the bottom of the social and financial pile. 

 

Luke, more than any other Gospel writer, portrays Jesus focusing on the plight of the poor and salvation as a reversal of the social status quo that had economic impact in real time and not simply some heavenly afterlife. In the Magnificat, Mary’s incredibly uncomfortable, prophetic song about what God is going to do through Jesus, she sings:
He has shown strength with his arm;
       he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
       and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
      and sent the rich away empty. (Luke 1:51-53) [Side note: You need not literalize the rejection but you should take it to heart because this is what the poor often experience – being “sent away empty.” There must be some reckoning for that.]

The Christmas story of the angels announcing Jesus’ birth to the lowly, dirty, shepherds is the first sign in the story that Mary’s song is happening now. It is not simply in Jesus’ death that God redeems the marginalized and oppressed; it happens even at Jesus’ birth. For Luke, the Christmas story is one of turning tables on the inequity of the world. How is this being done? Two points and one question: The marginal are 1) invited to participate and 2) partner in good news. But, is this good news for all?

The marginal participate in good news. 

Howard Thurman, the African-American pastor, known for teaching and mentoring Martin Luther King, Jr., once said: “I do not ignore the theological and metaphysical interpretation of the Christian doctrine of salvation. But the underprivileged everywhere have long since abandoned any hope that this type of salvation deals with the crucial issues by which their days are turned into despair without consolation.” This is a sad and strong indictment precisely because the Christmas story announced to shepherds invites them to participate in the good news of great joy and peace in the present.

The basic fact is that Christianity at its infancy, was an invitation first given to underprivileged, children working the night shift, that a savior-king born in a stable had come to bring good news, cause great joy, and ensure peace, without ever stating that it could only be had in the great by and by – always for the dead but never for the living as if the songs of the nativity belong in funeral homes.

Friends, we need to hear the good news from marginal people so that we can be reminded what the gospel of Jesus actually is – that God glorified himself in Jesus Christ to bring all-encompassing peace. Peace in the Bible was not some absence of war or conflict. Shalom was the Hebrew word for “peace” in the mouth of every prophet that refers to a state of delight, wholeness, and universal flourishing. It referred to a promised activity of God, offered to human agents, to remake the world into a social, economic, psychological, and spiritual blessing. It was the very thing that Jesus taught us to pray for daily – that God’s will would be done “on earth as it is in heaven.” The shepherds would want us to remember that in a world often filled with oppression, worry about being harmed, getting something to eat, finding somewhere to sleep, children being abused, that that message and action of Christianity must always include the angelic cry of “Do not be afraid” and “shalom” today. Church at the Park is here today and has many opportunities for you to participate with our neighbors who are struggling and on the streets so that we can hear them say, “I’m terrified,” and we can say, “Don’t be afraid” and “shalom” and mean it. 

The marginal are empowered to partner in good news.

But the marginal in our story are more than recipients of good news. They are also invited to be active partners to share it. Funny enough, the first people they are sent to are Mary and Joseph. In fact, Mary will be left pondering and treasuring their message, we’re told in vs. 19. Imagine the chaos of young, dirty teenage girls and boys filling the stable with excitement where the new parents where trying to sleep. It was these rowdy, poor teenagers who were “spreading the word concerning what had been told them about this child.” They were the first participants of divine amazement. 

This is also what I love about Church at the Park and what should guide us as we seek to be good news agents of God’s glory and our neighbor’s good – we must let them teach us and share good news with us. We must let go of our parental sensibilities that always have us at the head, in the lead, in the know, with the power. We must stop telling the poor and marginal that we always know what’s best but actually come to believe that they have divine news themselves. When we recognize that – we will discover that the glory of the Lord that terrified them at first becomes what they might do to us. In vs. 20, shepherds are the ones who take up the terrifying song glorifying God that the angels sang and everyone else becomes a shepherd. We will we listen and share as well or will we run away – afraid? And that brings us to our final question.

Is a marginal gospel good news for “all”? 

I was brought up short this week by Luke 2:14. You knew Luke 2:14 before this sermon, before I brought it up. You’ve heard it, whether you knew it as Scripture or not, from the lines "I heard the bells on Christmas Day, Their old familiar carols play, And wild and sweet, The words repeat, Of peace on earth, good-will to men!" 

The carol is based on a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. It describes the narrator's despair over the Civil War and the idea that "hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good-will to men". The carol concludes with the bells ringing out a message of hope, "God is not dead, nor doth He sleep" and that "peace on earth, good-will to men" will prevail.

And that’s what we heard in our First Nations version, that’s what I grew up hearing in church. That’s not what I heard this week, reading the NIV and a few other translations that said something different: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” Do you see the difference?

By the way the difference between the two is a difference of one Greek letter. The first is εὐδοκία and the second is εὐδοκίας. The second translation has caused some interpreters to say that God’s peace isn’t for all but only for those whom God likes or chooses. Both versions, with or without the sigma, that little “s,” are old, both can be found in the earliest Christian commentaries, though, admittedly the “on whom God’s favor rests” seems to trend a little older. Lots of ink has been spilled on this controversy and I found myself knee deep in an argument over that one little Greek letter and its theological significance. And you’re probably expecting me now to tell you which one is right, which version of Scripture you should listen to, which interpretation is correct. And I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to tell you whom God’s peace is for because you have to decide that for yourself and act accordingly. You’re going to have to do your own study, your own praying, your own theological meditating, and make your own choices of shalom, because, in the end, you’re going to have to determine which good news you intend to live – for some? Or for all? And while you ponder which interpretation is correct, I hope you hear that heavenly choir. I hope you see the shepherds’ amazement. I hope you discover that beautiful baby and listen to the angel say whose solo precedes that heavenly chorus (Luke 2:10), “I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all people.” I hope as you ponder like Mary that you carefully listen in amazement to that. Amen.