January
6, 2008: To Which King Are
You Loyal?
Matthew 2:1-12, Isaiah 6:1-6
Eileen Parfrey -- Springwater
Presbyterian
In
reading Matthew, it helps to know
that he has two issues:
Jesus as prophetic fulfillment,
tension between the two empires
(God’s, Caesar’s).
For Matthew, the question is,
to which king are you loyal?
In today’s text, Matthew
points to the birthplace fulfillment
(Bethlehem) and Isaiah 6’s
prophecy that other nations/kings
would pay homage to Israel’s
king. The star guiding the
wise men was portent for Matthew
(not an astronomical condition
such as Halley’s comet,
the congruence of planets, or
a supernova). The star was
a supernatural sign indicating
“Messiah” (see the
War Scroll from the Dead Sea scroll
collection, as indication that
the religious community saw “star”
as a Messianic sign). The
gifts presented to the child were
indicative of his identity.
Gold for royalty; frankincense
also as royal indication, but
used in priestly anointing oil,
and only burned in the Temple
sanctuary; myrrh as both embalming
material and priestly anointing
oil. The acceptance the
Gentiles is in contrast to the
and murderous jealousy and rejection
of the empire.
They
finally figured out that they
were waiting on the same person
in the ICU. The three of
them were scattered in the 12th
floor waiting room at OHSU, the
room with the million dollar view
across Portland. And Mount
Hood, if the clouds would ever
lift. As they had discovered
that Sister Gloria’s medical
condition interested them all,
they moved closer together to
discuss their mutual spiritual
director, and the conversation
had drifted to one of Gloria’s
pet phrases, “There is that
of the divine in all of us.”
Of the three of them, Michelle
seemed oldest. Perhaps it
was the blue rinse look to her
hair, a by-product of early-30s
graying, but she looked like “old
money.” Elly was what
used to be called matronly, running
to pleasant middle-aged plumpness,
countered by a habit of leaning
intensely into conversations.
Roland defied category. Woodsman
or intellectual, his long hair
fluffed out of a pony tail, his
well-worn Pendleton shirt jacket
was untucked. His agreement
with the pet phrase had caught
the two women’s attention.
“What.”
Michelle wasn’t asking
“what?” It was
a statement of dismissal.
“You can’t mean that,”
she said. “If everyone
has the divine in them, what is
the point of spiritual discipline
and striving for a deeper sense
of the holy?” She
pursed her lips, effectively making
her question into a statement.
“I’m just saying,”
Roland explained “that we
each have what it takes to be
in communion with God, each in
our own way.” This
pulled another expression of disgust
from Michelle. “You
people destroy community with
your individualism, just so you
don’t have to be accountable
or follow a tradition.”
Elly agreed with the principle.
“We must use Faith Tradition
in order to progress in our Knowledge
of God.” She used
a lot of capital letters as she
pronounced the terms.
In the raw emotionalism of knowing
Sr Gloria’s life was hanging
on a thread, like airplane passengers
who tell their secrets, these
three strangers were more open
with each other than they might
have been with closer friends.
But needing to be conciliatory,
Elly said with some irony, “We
sound like the Three Stooges squabbling.
We ought to be more like—“
she stopped, searching for a metaphor,
but Michelle provided it, “The
Three Kings. It’s
the right time of year.”
The others laughed, too heartily
for what the wit called for, but
they were stressed with concern
for Sr Gloria. Nevertheless,
the notion of wisdom and gifts
pleased them, and they lapsed
into silence, returning to tattered
magazines or knitting projects.
Elly
was thinking things through and
finally spoke. “Well,
if we were the Three
Kings, we’re supposed to
leave by another road.”
She looked over at Roland, not
sure he knew the story.
“To avoid King Herod’s
wrath. He sent them to find
the baby, but he was actually
jealous and wanted to kill the
baby. But maybe,”
and here she calculated.
“Maybe the different road
means we leave as different people.
Changed by our encounter.”
Roland
made that clicking sound with
his tongue. “Tsk.
Changed.” But then,
as if this was the insight he’d
sought, he said, “As if,
having spent time exploring my
faith with Sr Gloria, I’ve
been given something to take back
with me.”
“A
treasure!” Michelle
took up the conceit. “Yes!
We’ve been given
a treasure! Instead of bringing
the Christ Child our treasure,
he’s given us treasure with
which to return!”
They were breathless, considering
what treasures they’d been
given. You could see them
measuring the possibilities, curious
about the others’ treasures,
hoping “their” treasure
was more insightful, more precious.
Finally,
one spoke. “You could
call insights ‘treasure.’”
It was Elly, and she sounded pleased,
then rueful. “Although,
I can’t say what I got was
what I went seeking. Now
that I’ve got it, though,
it must be what I needed!”
They looked at her expectantly,
while she still hesitated.
She felt vulnerable. “I
think my treasure,” she
spoke slowly, “isn’t
about knowing. I’d
counted on study and knowing about
God in the right way.
And that’s not it.
Knowing God isn’t about
facts. It’s about
experience. Relationship?”
Michelle
ran her hand across her hair and
looked out the window, as if the
million dollar view could give
her words. “I’d
counted on who I am,”
she said. “I have
all the right credentials and
I work hard to maintain them.
As if God was my entitlement by
virtue of breeding and accomplishment.
Which is, of course,” she
hurried to say, “the ‘yes’
to ‘that of the divine in
all of us.’ But the
‘no’ is that I can’t
takecredit for it. The treasure
of the divine isn’t about
me, but about the One Who Gives
the treasure.”
Roland
looked like someone who had been
observing aliens from another
planet. “For me, the
treasure isn’t about a ‘yes’
or a ‘no.’ I was already
convinced of the divine that was
in me when I found Sr Gloria.
And yes,” he smiled and
mimicked Michelle’s haughty
tone of outrage, “I was
one of ‘you people,’
claiming an individualistic God.
My treasure is having room for
others in my understanding of
God. I sought spiritual
help,” Roland continued,
“but I wasn’t going
to follow anyone else’s
approach to God. But she,”
here his eyes turned to the door
into the ICU, and all their eyes
followed, expecting their beloved
spiritual companion to stand in
the doorway. “But
she told me God would meet me
where I needed to be met.
And God did. The treasure
I’ve been given is God’s
invitation to be part of the divine
life. With other humans.”
The
knitter made and interrupted a
move toward her project, but no
one was willing to take up another
occupation. “If God
cared enough to be available to
every human,” Roland began
but Elly interposed, “That’s
Jesus. That’s the
best way of saying who Jesus is.”
Roland suppressed his annoyance,
waiting for her interruption to
stop. “If God became
available to every human, part
of how God is available to me
is through other humans.
So I’ve got to be available
to other humans if I’m going
to be available to God.”
“That’s
Epiphany,” Michelle said.
“God’s invitation.”
Roland raised a broad hand.
“It’s not that this
is my treasure and you
can’t have it,” he
said. “But I think
each of the treasures we’ve
been given is peculiar to who
we are. For me,
I needed to know that I wasn’t
a Lone Ranger. Maybe for
you,” he indicated Elly,
“with your Protestant head
trips, your treasure is studying
and knowing God.
But so that you can experience
God, not just know about God.
God gave you a brain and expects
you to use it, but not at the
expense of your heart and your
gut.” He turned to
Michelle. “Maybe your
treasure is resting in your credentials.
Not because it’s elite,”
he took in Michelle’s glittering
rings, her discrete bracelets
and expensive shoes. “Not
because it makes you an exception,
but because you can rest.
I think the church word for that
is ‘trust.’
Maybe your treasure is letting
up on accomplishing God and just
trusting.”
Roland
looked as if he regretted having
spoken. Elly’s eyes
narrowed, and she spoke.
“For a man who resists being
part of community,” she
said, “you certainly feel
free to speak the truth to others.”
Roland looked more abashed.
“I know,” he said.
“But I’m trying to
say that the Epiphany treasure
is God’s invitation to receive
that of the divine. What we’ve
already been given.”
“Because
the divine became human,”
Elly said with authority.
“Yeah,”
Roland agreed. “And
when humans become available to
each other, telling the truth
about another’s treasure
is possible. Otherwise,
if we’re not available,”
he began.
“Otherwise,”
the two women chorused, “it’s
just mean.”
And they all laughed with relief.