Text: Matthew 2:1-12

“What’s your sign?” is a potentially loaded question. It reminds me of the new age obsessions of some of my youthful peers who depended on a daily horoscope to help them order their lives. I remember my friend, Fred, did my chart and I will confess to some amazement at how accurately it seemed to portray me. Then, of course, the question became a classic pick up line, so overused it evolved into a source of humor - high and low. And, in case you’re still wondering, I’m an Aquarius.

However, this might also be a question to ask ourselves with some seriousness as we enter a new year and celebrate this season of Epiphany. This is the season in which light threatens to pierce the darkness and show us the way. This is the time of appearing of the promised one, the day when Christ dawns as the sunlight. This is the period when the Word becomes flesh.

John’s gospel tells us that “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” He says of this time that “The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.” Indeed, “…the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth” (John 1.) It is ironic in the depths of the “bleak midwinter,” we choose to celebrate Epiphany, the coming of the light into the world. Yet it is in times such as this that we are most in need of hope, that we search most diligently for signs of its coming.

Signs can signify or symbolize who we are, what we are searching for and who we may become. “What’s your sign?” then might be a question about what is important to us and how it’s manifest in our lives. In that sense, it may not be a bad question to ask ourselves as we consider our new year’s resolutions. What is significant in your life? Is it what you want to claim as your sign, the thing that signifies you, that identifies you? Is it possessions, power, privilege? Is it security, control, denial? Is it courage, wisdom, generosity, hospitality? Is it hope, peace, joy, love? What is your sign?

Today’s text is full of signs and the significance of signs. We have been singing and reading about kings this morning, in particular three kings, the kings of legend and myth who rode their camels to a stable in Bethlehem and gave Jesus expensive presents, which, by the way, are never mentioned again as Jesus and his family live on as peasant folk. These foreigners, whom Matthew says appeared at Jesus’ birth, were called Magi. Though no one knows for sure what that term means, the speculation is that they were astrologers, thus my play on the issue of signs. But as astrologers of that age, they were serious students of the stars. Tom Wright says that “The ancient world, innocent of streetlights, never forgot the night sky. Many people…had developed the study of the stars and the planets to a fine art, giving each one very particular meanings. They believed…that the whole world was of a piece; everything was interconnected, and when something important was happening on earth, you could expect to see it reflected in the heavens. Alternatively, a remarkable event among the stars and planets must mean…a remarkable event on earth” (Tom Wright, Matthew for Everyone, Vol. 1, p. 10.)

There is some speculation that the Magi once constituted a ruling class among the Medes who sought to overthrow the Persian empire. In their defeat, they evolved into a sort of priestly class of sages and holy men. Thus, the Magi who traveled to Bethlehem might have been kings or descendants of kings if history had played out differently. Christmas pageants with kids in bathrobes and cardboard crowns notwithstanding, these were not the true signs of the Magi. Their gifts indicate they were wealthy, which would also have facilitated their travel, but they were wise men, sages, shamans, rather than kings. They are signified by their cultivation of wisdom, their longing for truth, their devotion to the holy.

Their journey reminds of the wonderful old Advent hymn, sadly not found in our hymnal. “Watcher, tell us of the night, what its signs of promise are. Traveler, o’er yon mountain’s height, see that glory beaming star. Watchman, does its beauteous ray aught of joy or hope foretell? Traveler, yes—it brings the day, promised day of Israel. Watchman, tell us of the night; higher yet that star ascends. Traveler, blessedness and light, peace and truth its course portends.” Though the connection may not be a direct one, it seems to me that the Magi served as this sort of soul who waits and watches and wonders, who sees and foresees and tells truth.

So the Magi are not kings, and neither is Herod, though he does wear a crown. Herod, the Great was king by Roman appointment, not by heritage or divine right. He was only half Jewish, the other half being Idumaean or Edomite. He enjoyed a long reign in which he kept peace and order. Though he was a wily ruler and great builder, he was also paranoid about anyone who might usurp his throne. He had moments of beneficence in his rule but his ruthlessness would show shortly in his slaughter of the innocents. Not only was he a pretender to the throne, his proposal to the wise men that he, too, would like to pay homage to the baby is completely bogus. The signs of Herod involve holding onto power in the vain hope it would provide security and using whatever means possible – cunning, deceit, murder – to hold his power. In this regard, I suppose he was not unlike kings and presidents we ourselves have known.

And then there is Jesus, a baby, child of poor peasants, child of God. When Herod sends his own prophets and holy men to investigate the wise men’s fantastic tale of the star, they come up with ancient prophecies that indicate that the Messiah, the promised one from God, would be indeed be born in Bethlehem. “Born a king on Bethlehem plain…” Yet, what sort of king? What was his sign? Ironically, in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus is recognized as “King of the Jews” by the wise men in chapter 2 and then not again until the end of the book when Pilate has inscribed over the cross on which he is crucified, “King of the Jews.” Some king he is…born of peasant parents, itinerant preacher, teacher, folk healer, challenger of religious authorities and the powers that be. Hardly what one would choose to signify royalty.
But that is the point. Like his earliest followers, we look for certain signs of royalty. Someone to throw out the oppressors. Someone to restore the power and glory of the kingdom. A warrior king like his ancestor David. A strong leader. A man of power and wealth. Someone who puts his faith in a strong military and takes care of the rich and famous. Such a contrast is this lover of truth, this Christ of compassion, this Messiah of the people, this healer of our every ill!

In his classic Christmas opera, Amahl and the Night Visitors, Gian Carlo Menotti sets the stage for the coming of just such a king. His fable follows the tradition that counts the wise men as three and makes them kings, Melchior, Caspar and Belthazar. Following the mysterious and magical star, they find themselves knocking at the door of a poor widow with a crippled son. Though the mother and child have gone to bed cold and hungry, they now offer the shelter of their hut and send out to their friends and neighbors to bring provisions for these strangers from foreign lands. Though impoverished and frustrated, the sign of hospitality is sacred to this widow and the others in her village.
However, in the still of the night as everyone sleeps, the widow is drawn inexorably to “all that gold.” As moves toward the kings’ treasures, she muses, “Do rich people know what to do with all their gold?” She means to take just a little to help her poor crippled child survive, but she is caught in the act by the servant of the three kings. In the ensuing turmoil, Amahl attempts to protect his mother by attacking the servant with his crutch. Suddenly, everyone realizes he is walking without the aid of his crutch. It is a Christmas miracle. The kings sing that it is a “sign from the holy child.”

For some, I’m sure this is an overly sentimental and fatuous fable, but it made a profound impression on my childhood. As you see, I can still recall the story and sing snatches of the score. Whatever you may think of it, there is something profound in the moment when the mother attempts to return the gold. The baritone sings “Woman you may keep the gold,” flowing into the aria that provides our words of preparation today: “The child we seek doesn’t need our gold. On love alone he will build his kingdom…his might will not be built with your toil…He will bring us new life and receive our death, and the keys to his city belong to the poor.”

It is a profound moment as the sign that will most characterize the life of this new born child is named. King? Yes. King in power and might and majesty? No. “The King of Love my Shepherd Is.” Some would call this claim overly sentimental and fatuous, too, but I submit that it is the gospel truth. It is the ultimate sign of the Christ. It is the light that dispels midwinter bleakness. It is the truth that illuminates the world. It is love that makes all the difference. Not power. Not might. Not authority. Not wealth. Not gold or frankincense or myrrh.

So as we enter this time of Epiphany, of surprising and significant revelation, of truth made clear and love made manifest, what sign will we choose to signify the days ahead, what characteristic will we claim for the new year, what can we learn from sages and kings and babies that will make a difference in our living and in our world? “The star of mercy, the star of grace, shall lead thy heart to its resting place: gold, incense myrrh thou cannot bring, so give thy heart unto the King” – the King who builds his reign on love alone. Amen.