The Preacher’s Study
First thoughts about next Sunday’s sermon,
The Epiphany of the Lord
Juan Oliver
To the exemplary memory of Otis Charles, a
bishop uncomfortable with lies.
In the
prologue of John, proclaimed this Christmas season (and possibly this Sunday),
we heard how the Word of God (i.e. the Torah!) has become flesh and blood. So
for Christians, at least, "spirituality" must be embodied, taking
place in the messy theater of history.
This
year, the lectionary has us proclaiming the Flight into Egypt first, and then,
on Epiphany (or the Sunday immediately before), the story of the Three
Magi. The two pericopes, however, are
best understood in light of each other.
Somewhere
along Christian history, the magi in the first Gospel became Kings, even though
Matthew says nothing about that. He
calls them magi in Greek, that is, "wise men" or
"astrologers" who "saw his star in the East." They came looking
for a King just born – a King of the Jews.
We do not
usually think of our political leaders as having their own star, but in
antiquity this notion was commonplace. In Colossians,
for example, the "principalities and powers" that Christ dragged
behind him in his triumphal procession were both the political powers
that be and the cosmic forces that guided and protected them.
The newborn
King of the Jews also has his own star.
This new King is extremely frightening to King Herod, who was a yes-man
for the Roman invaders, and must have lived in mortal fear that the Jewish
rebels might crown their own King and trigger a civil war – not a pretty thing
in the eyes of Rome, his master and employer.
But a baby
King? Come oooon! From a Kingdom belonging specially to children, the poor, the
nobodies? How exactly would that be a
threat to the powers that be?
Perhaps
Herod knew, in his heart of hearts, that his power was illegitimate? Or did he
unconsciously know that he was betraying his own people? Uneasy lies the head
that wears a crown, of course. But even more uneasily if that crown is heavy
with guilt. And there is no more dangerous power than power suffused
with guilt.
People in
the grips of guilt-ridden power live in extreme fear and shame. Oh, they may
convince themselves that their secrets are necessary, or that they have a right
to their power, or that it is God's will that they rule. Washington and Ottawa
have, over the years, provided many examples. We only find out about them after
their house of cards comes crashing down from its own weight of lies. These
"kings" know this well, and so live in mortal fear of The Day.
Matthew
paints Herod as a villain, and the historical record of his reign bears that
out. Yet in Matthew's narrative, no less
than in Roman history, Herod is just a pawn.
He is there so the Holy Family has to go into exile so that God can call
them back out of Egypt and take them home, like the people of Israel. Baby Jesus is the embodiment of an oppressed
people, literally rescued by God from exile and brought safely home.
Undocumented immigrants have no problem making sense of this story.
Yet it is
difficult to bring this pericope to our own day. For it to make sense, the
hearer must belong to the dispossessed – the nobodies –undocumented persons,
the sick, the abandoned, the poor. For those
of us who are comfortable, the temptation is strong to allegorize the story
into a description of interior subjective states, forgetting its real flesh and
blood implications, both to the Herods of this world and to those they sell out
and oppress.
But we
should resist. Matthew knew nothing of
interior "spiritual" subjective states separated from sociopolitical
events. For him the restoration of Israel – united with all the nations – by
Christ was a political and socioeconomic event, not a disembodied
"spiritual" happening.
The reading
from Jeremiah assigned for the 2nd Sunday after Christmas Day drives
this home. The prophet does not use
phrases as metaphors of spiritual states. He means them literally. There WILL
be enough grain, wine and oil, and food and dancing and even fat for priests. The redemption of God's people will not be
the payment of a bill to an accountant father, but their liberation from
oppression and injustice by those whose power is illegitimate.
The
Gospel turn on this of course is that in Jesus' case he is not just "the
Jewish people," but a kid! (In Luke
this kid actually teaches theologians at the Temple!) Matthew is telling us
that the revolutionary power of the Good News to bring down the powerful from
their thrones and lift up the poor is a different kind of power from the
usual. It is the power of children and
other people who were considered nobodies in Jesus’ time. For as Nelson Mandela learned and taught, we
cannot fight the principalities and powers of this world that corrupt and kill
God's creatures with their own methods.
A different method is in order: the power of powerlessness – public,
loud, truth-telling powerlessness. Powerlessness so sure of the righteousness
of its cries for justice, that it can turn the cheek, suffer persecution, bear
extended imprisonment and death itself, so strong is its determination to hope
and work for a better world.
And a
better Church.
Juan Oliver is a member of the International Anglican Liturgical
Consultation, Societas Liturgica, and The Council of The Associated Parishes
for Liturgy and Mission, as whose president he served from 1997 to 2001.
He´s retired in Santa Fe, NM.
"The Magi" and "Flight into Egypt" by He Qi.
http://www.heqigallery.com/shop/limited_Prints.html
"The Magi" and "Flight into Egypt" by He Qi.
http://www.heqigallery.com/shop/limited_Prints.html
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