Sunday, January 4, 2015

God guidess our restless hearts to a place of giving – Matt 2:1-12

Epiphany; Holy Cross Parish.

They only feature in these twelve verses of Matthew’s gospel.  No other evangelist mentions them.  But they capture our imagination, these magi from the East.  They’d noticed curious happenings in the sky, which doubtless most people had missed.  Given how strange the happenings on earth had been, that God who created the universe and holds the heavens in his span had been born in a Jewish backwater, that all-powerful God had embraced the vulnerability of babyhood; it should be no great surprise if the heavens themselves declared with ripple effects this divine irruption into the human world. 


They can’t understand it all, though.  The Magi are masters of the highest Wisdom of their age, devoted to painstaking observation and calculation of the position of the stars, but they don’t have the advantage of divine revelation through the scriptures.  That’s a great advantage we have, we have the word of God at our finger tips, on our smart phones even!  But, we shouldn’t feel too proud on that account, as Herod had that too (in scroll form, at least). 

So, to find what they seek, the Magi must first go to Herod, who consults with the Jewish sages, who consult their scrolls.  Herod, who became king by political machination, is confronted with talk of one born King of the Jews and is threatened.  It’s almost laughable: he’s threatened by a baby.  It would be laughable if we didn’t know the rest of the story: that the reason Herod wants to know the exact time the star appeared is so as he can have every baby boy in Bethlehem of that age killed.  Herod is not seeking to give gifts.  He thinks he has everything he needs to satisfy him – he has the kingship, and it’s for him!  He deludes himself that he can rest secure content fulfilled, only occasionally dispatching others to do his dirty work for him and eliminate any threat to his position.  He thinks he has it made, so he feels no need for his Maker.

The Magi will keep seeking though.  And they find.  Amazed and overjoyed by a miracle with a star, they follow and find a more mundane scene: a small child, with his mother, in a house.  What a humble scene!  Disarmingly simple.  The heavens had moved to show them this!?  Their joy doesn’t allow the Magi time to question, they are spontaneously moved to adore.  They have finally found what they were looking for.  They have found what (whom!) their gifts were meant for.

That’s why they capture our imagination so.  Because that’s our quest.  Our hearts are restless and we are seeking.  Deep down, we now we have been gifted with gifts so great that they can transform the world, if only we could figure out how to use them.  We seek, and we’re restless, because we’re trying to work out quite how to be the givers we know God wants us to be.

Before Christmas, someone donated about 30 nativity scenes to our parish St. Vincent De Paul society.  We sold them at the craft fair and after morning Masses, making about $400 (which can fund the society for about a month), but still had several left over.  If you’re not familiar with this market: nativity sets undergo a rather sharp depreciation in late December.  So, I decided I’d take the remaining ones, and just give them away.  I must have looked quite a sight, in my Roman collar and my winter jacket, with a dozen nativity sets in a shopping trolley, going door to door on Lawndale, Vassar and Diamond.


In our neighborhood, people open their doors with suspicion, maybe even with fear.  The first man I talked to was warm.  His sense of surprise that someone would present him with a spontaneous gift caught me off guard.  As I left, I wished him a Merry Christmas, and he replied, “Merry Christmas!?  You made my Christmas!  I’m going to put this right up in the window here.”


Who gave and who received in that exchange?  What has God done for us that that scene, that nativity scene of His majesty displayed in fragility, can mean so much?  Can make Christmas?  Make that man’s Christmas; make my Christmas.  Maybe we don’t need to travel as far as the Magi did.  We are seekers.  I preached on this feast last year about being seekers, searching for the place to lay down the gifts God has given us.  And there’s truth to that.  But I think there’s a deeper truth in this: we’re seekers who find by giving.  

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