Matthew 1:1-12
January 6, 2008
Pastor Dwaine Bruns
Just a few days ago, the year 2008 was brought in with a heavy dose of celebration and merriment. But I’ve been wondering, did you ever think about what the attraction of New Years really is? Why all the parties and craziness – the toasts, the singing and the funny hats? I mean, January 1 is just a day on the calendar. This past Monday was 2007. Tuesday was 2008. So what’s the big deal?
If I had to answer my own question, besides the fact that lots of people simply like to party – perhaps the big deal is found in the attraction of new beginnings and fresh starts. For many of us, there is something wonderful about the idea of turning the page, leaving the past behind, and wiping the slate clean. Somehow it seems that on New Years, anything is possible.
What do you see when you look back at 2007? Many of you probably see some great things – events full of joy and success. I had many of those things in my life last year: a daughter’s graduation, a son’s confirmation, 25th anniversaries of marriage and ordination, coming back to work full-time after a year and half of illness. It was a year full of blessings.
But even as I say that, I know that isn’t the whole story of the past year. There has also been sadness, loss, disappointment and hurt. And because some of you have known those realities in much deeper ways than I have, you are not at all reluctant to leave 2007 behind.
But maybe there’s another reason we are ready for a new year -- a reason found in our answers to this rather blunt question: Did you do any sinning in 2007? I did. Now, I prefer not to go into any great detail – but on more occasions than I really like to recall, I was not the loving, kind, selfless, patient, giving person I really want to be. I know that. So does God.
But just maybe, just maybe, I can leave that old Dwaine behind. I can package up the sins and failings and disappointments with last year’s calendar and start out fresh in 2008.
Somehow, that kind of optimism is just plain easier as a new year begins. Things can be different. I can be a better person. Change is possible. We even saw this very thing on a national scale this past week in the Iowa caucuses. Lots of the political pundits explained the somewhat surprising victories of Obama and Huckabee, by pointing out that these were the two candidates that best captured our country’s desire for change. As a nation, we are ready for something new.
And so are we as individuals. Why else do we make all those New Year’s resolutions? Get in shape. Eat better. Smoke or drink less. Reduce our debt. Find a better job. Be a better person. Be kinder to the people I love. The list could go on and on.
And those resolutions can be good things. We know that without making a choice to change – chances are things will stay pretty much the same in our lives. Sometimes a resolution gives us just the kick we need. So, I wish you all the best in keeping the resolutions you have made.
But you and I both know something about New Year’s resolutions – most of them are not kept. Somehow, optimism and good intentions are not enough. In fact, to ask a variation of the same blunt question I asked earlier: Do you plan on doing any sinning in 2008? I do. Oh, don’t get me wrong. I don’t have any specific plans in mind. But after 52 years, I know myself fairly well. I know my weaknesses and failings. I know that the Scriptures are right when they say that all of us sin and fall short of God’s glory. Those words were born out in my life during 2007, and I don’t think a new year will be any different.
Determination and willpower won’t change that truth. No matter how many resolutions I make, there is so much about the coming year that I simply have no control over. I may experience blessings I can’t imagine, or I may face struggles and challenges that will turn my life upside down. I simply don’t know – and no resolution will change that.
Now, at this point you might be thinking – thanks a lot, Pastor Dwaine. I was feeling kind of good about the New Year, but you’ve pretty much taken care of any optimism I had. I’m sorry if that’s the case, but I want you to know that I’m optimistic and full of hope about the coming year as well. But my optimism doesn’t have much to do with resolutions or willpower – or even the election of a new president.
Instead, the hope I have is found in the one who is at the center of this morning’s Gospel lesson. It is a familiar story – and a wonderful way for us to bring the season of Christmas to an end. Our nativity sets are not complete until the wise men have found their place in the stable, along with the shepherds and angels. And what Christmas pageant would be complete without the magi in their colorful bathrobes, bearing their foil wrapped gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.
But while this scene is what you and I would expect on a Christmas card, chances are that the appearance of the Magi would have seemed more than a little strange to the ones who first heard the story. Why? Well, we need to remember who these magi really were. First of all, they weren’t Jews. They didn’t know God or the Old Testament promises about a Messiah being born. In fact, the ones who did know those things, the chief priests and scribes, were all up in Jerusalem hanging out with King Herod. In our lesson, we heard that those religious leaders were the ones who knew that Jesus was to be born in Bethlehem. But they weren’t the ones who showed up to worship him. Instead, it was a group of unbelievers from Iran or Iraq or some other godforsaken place to the east.
So that’s the first strange thing about the story – instead of good faithful followers of God showing up in Bethlehem, you have heathens who don’t really know much about Jesus at all, except that a star has led them to this place. And that’s the second strange thing about these magi, they followed a star.
That’s what Magi did. Despite the songs we sing, they weren’t kings or sages. The Magi were magicians. That’s where the word comes from. Magi – magic. But they weren’t magicians of the Houdini or David Copperfield variety. Instead their magic was reading the stars -- looking to the heavens and figuring out what the future held based on what they saw. In other words, these were the kind of people that would have written the daily horoscope column back home in the Bagdad Gazette.
Now, I don’t know if you ever read your horoscope, but there aren’t many people who take them seriously. The Magi did. But according to the Old Testament, these star-gazers were more than harmless quacks. Magi-types were condemned as idolatrous sinners who taught that it was the stars who controlled the future and not God. The people of Israel were to have nothing to do with them. In fact, a Jewish rabbi, writing not long before the birth of Jesus said, “He who learns from a magi is worthy of death.”
And yet, as Matthew tells us today, these were the ones who showed up to visit Jesus – and not just to visit, but to worship. So why are they there? Why did God bring a group of outsiders, who neither knew, nor followed God’s ways – to Jesus? They didn’t belong there. They were the last people you’d expect – but here they are. What is God trying to teach us?
Maybe these words from the author, Debra Blue, give us a hint. “I’ve been thinking maybe someone should start a small group of guerilla activists whose task it would be to plant shocking figures in manger scenes. They could work both inside private homes, as well as in the most visible places. Suburban housewives will shriek to find Batman figures on the roof of the stable on their mantle. Churches will be horrified to find Barbies and plastic dinosaurs on their altars. But people will pay attention. They will look twice. They may even stop their cars and get out when they see a garden troll or a pink flamingo or a big plastic Homer Simpson leaning over the baby Jesus on the Cathedral lawn. But actually, I wonder if I’m really the first to come up with an idea like that. Maybe it was just that kind of group that first placed the wise men in the manger scene.”
Could it be that that’s why God called the Magi to Bethlehem? Was it to get our attention? Was it to show from the very beginning that Jesus was born to call all sorts of people into God’s family – even people you’d never expect or imagine to be invited -- outsiders and sinners like the Magi?
Because you see, as Matthew tells Jesus’ story, the arrival of the Magi is only a sneak preview of the others who will be drawn to Christ and his love and forgiveness. Samaritan adulterers, immoral prostitutes, dishonest tax collectors, despised Roman soldiers, ostracized lepers, doubting and denying disciples. Right from that start, before Jesus is even out of cradle, we see that he is going to bring hope and forgiveness to places where you least expect to find it.
And that’s why I’m hopeful and optimistic as we begin this New Year. It’s because there is room at the stable next to the magi. There’s room for me there. There’s room for you too.
The miracle this morning, is that just as God once led those unlikely visitors called the magi to Jesus, we have been led to this place too. In one way or another, God has called us here and invited us to kneel before our new born savior -- to worship him.
Do we really belong in such a holy place? God thinks we do. Like the Magi, God has led us here so that we will know that the one born in Bethlehem is our savior too – the one who loves us whether or not we keep all those New Year’s resolutions. The one who forgives us even when we fall into the same old sins and keep making many of the same mistakes in 2008, that plagued us in 2007.
The honest truth is, that you and I have no way of knowing all that the New Year will bring us. Chances are there will be success and failure, joy and sadness. Some days we will be faithful. Some days we won’t. But what God wants us to know today, is that no matter what the New Year might bring – Christ will be with us. On every new day, the light of his love and grace and forgiveness will shine in our lives. And that’s a new year’s promise worthy of celebration.