“Lessons from the Magi” (Matthew 2:1-12), 1/5/25

            Last Sunday I asked if anybody had made any New Year’s resolutions and nobody raised their hand. I have a hard time with New Year’s resolutions too, because often I feel like I’m setting myself up for failure. Why try to change? It’s just too hard. But then I thought of one resolution that made a lot of sense. It’s one I’ve made before and have to keep making it every day. It’s also one that all of us could embrace. Resolve to stay in the moment. All my challenges could be solved if I’d simply keep my mind where my body is- in the present moment. When we do this, it’s so much easier to be conscious and thoughtful about every decision we make, and everything we do. And to not worry unnecessarily about the past or the future. Sometimes worry is constructive. Sometimes it’s our best teacher if we listen to where it’s coming from without letting it get the best of us. But more so than not, worry doesn’t do us much good. Worrying has no place if we want to be present to ourselves and to others in a positive way. And so being mindfully in the moment is my resolution. It’s something to aim for. And it fits so well with those verses from Colossians 3 that we read last week.

 “clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  Bear with each other and forgive one another… put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity… Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts… And be thankful. … And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”

            I share those words with you again because January is a good month to challenge ourselves to take a wider view of our lives and our world, and to explore how God is at work in our lives and in the life of this church. What better place to start than with those magi who felt called to follow that star such a long way. Were they kings or were they astrologers? Matthew’s Gospel never says that they were kings. In fact it’s not until about 300-500 years after his gospel was written, that people began to refer to the magi as kings. That’s because they had read prophecies in the Hebrew scriptures saying that the messiah would be worshiped by kings. And that’s why children still wear those Burger King crowns in Christmas pageants. But they could just as well carry telescopes! Matthew also never says that there were three of them; only that there were three gifts. Maybe there were six magi: two brought frankincense, two brought myrrh and two brought gold. We don’t know. But here’s what we can infer from the story. The magi were smart and they were open to new possibilities. They were up for an adventure. They were learned astrologers who could read the stars and who could also sense God’s call.

            Compare them to King Herod who was the regional king of Judea, which included Bethlehem and Jerusalem. He was close minded and concerned only for himself and his hold on power. He relied on secrecy and deceit to try to get what he wanted. The magi wanted to worship the Christ Child. Herod wanted only to do away with him. The Magi were gracious and regal. Herod was fearful and selfish. The Magi were in touch with God. They got the message loud and clear to go home by another way and not to talk to Herod again. They could sense that Herod was only in touch with his own selfish motives.

            So let’s get to those lessons they can teach us as we head into 2025. How about this one-- get a little smarter by brushing up on our math skills. You didn’t think I’d say that! But there’s a story about an Arabic man who died and left his seventeen camels to be divided among his three sons. The first son was to receive one ninth of the camels; the second son was to receive one half of the camels; and the third son was to inherit one third of the camels. Got that? Seventeen camels, however, aren't evenly divisible by three. So the three sons argued and argued about what to do. Finally they got so desperate for an answer that they agreed to let a certain wise man decide for them. They found him seated in front of his tent with his own camel staked out back. After hearing the case, the wise man took his own camel and added it to the other seventeen camels. So now there are 18 camels. He then took one ninth of the eighteen, or two camels and gave them to the first son. To the second son, he gave one half, or nine camels. To the third he gave one third, or six camels. That’s 2+9+6=17. And after all that, he still had his own camel left. Hmm, go figure! What can we learn from that story? To be creative, to not give up when answers seem hard to come by. Who might be asking you to help them solve a problem this year? It probably won’t involve camels, but you never know!

            Second lesson from the Magi. Be up for an adventure and open to possibilities. My thoughts on this drifted to stories of  President Jimmy Carter who died last Sunday at age 100. His life was full on contrasts, like the fact that he grew up without electricity or indoor plumbing, and then eventually moved into the White House. I remember his presidency mostly because his daughter Amy is close to my age and I remember thinking how cool it was for someone my age (13 when he became president) to be living in the White House. But President Carter is best known for what he did after he was president, and that’s why I’m talking about him now. I’m thinking about his work with Habitat for Humanity and his commitment to teaching Sunday School every week for over 40 years. On the mornings that he was teaching, people would be at the church at 3 AM in order to get ready to greet the hundreds of visitors who would come to attend his class. And he’d shake hands and take a picture with every single one of them.

            In 2002 he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize “for his decades of untiring effort to find peaceful solutions to international conflicts, to advance democracy and human rights, and to promote economic and social development.” I thought you all might like to hear this elegy to a quiet man written by retired Presbyterian pastor, Paul Hooker in honor and memory of Jimmy Carter.

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An elegy for Jimmy Carter, Jr. by Paul Hooker, retired pastor and teacher

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Goodbye, fierce and gentle warrior, farmer with your hands full of good soil. You grew things.

You made your choices for weal and woe, held your power loosely, let it go;
asked nothing of others you asked not of yourself.

In extraordinary times, you were an ordinary man — not a hero, not a saint, not a role model.
You looked into our eyes and told the truth as best you understood it. We did not listen.

We wanted fairy tales of false greatness, glib promises of never-ending good times,
eternal morning in a land immune to night — Lies, all, and so you warned us.

But comforting calumny is easier to hear than stony fact. We turned away
to worship at their shiny altars these gods of glory, greed, and gore.

You wavered not an inch from your convictions, smile undimmed by public humiliation;
you went back to planting crops in fields where no one else thought they could grow:

Peace in bloodied ground, homes in urban lots,
love stretched like a wedding canopy over time and patience and simple faith.

Do not despair. The fields you plowed still wait their harvest.
See, even now they bear your quiet fruit.

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            What quiet fruit will we bear this year? What lessons will we take to heart? Are we open to new possibilities? Are we up for an adventure? Will we learn from those magi how to truly worship and let God mold us and shape us? For they must have changed during their long trek across the desert, through the wilderness, just like God’s people have been doing for a very long time. I’ve heard that it’s out there in the desert where God is most likely to succeed in getting our attention. And so here’s to 2025- to desert moments, to lessons to be learned, to precious moments in God’s presence. Amen.