Between Two Kings

Matthew 2:1-12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

“And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,

are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;

for from you shall come a ruler

who is to shepherd my people Israel.” ’

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’

When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage.

Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

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Today we celebrate Epiphany, the day when the magi find the Christ child by way of a star and offer him gifts. But this day is about much more than gifts. It’s about a choice between two kings. And to understand the choice it puts before us, we have to know a little bit more about King Herod.

We don’t hear much about this Herod in the New Testament. But there is much known about him outside of biblical literature. He ruled for nearly 40 years before Jesus came along, being crowned King of the Jews by Rome in 37 BCE. He was liked by Rome because he did what they said and he kept the Jewish people happy. That was his job: to make the occupation seem not so bad. He was pretty good at this, that’s why he was known as Herod the Great.

He led huge building campaigns throughout the cities in his area, constructing fortresses, building aqueducts, theaters, and most importantly rebuilding the temple in all its glory.

But none of this work was free and the burden to pay for it all fell on the jewish people in the form of taxes.

Yet worse than his taxes was Herod’s own insecurity. He was constantly plagued with paranoia that someone would oust him. It was so bad, that he divorced his first wife and exiled both her and his son. Then by the end of his life, he had killed his mother, another wife and at least three out of his four sons. Now maybe we aren’t so surprised that when three strangers ride into town asking where the new “king of Jews” had been born, he didn’t hesitate to kill all the infants in Bethlehem.

Everyone loved what King Herod could do, but everyone hated what he cost them. Herod appeared to have the people’s interest in mind, yet ultimately his concern was to appease Rome and remain in power and he would do just enough to maintain this image.

We see the true Herod when these wisemen show up from the east, likely from modern day Iran. They arrive in Jerusalem and unknowingly ask a question that could have gotten them killed: “where is the child who has been born king of the Jews”?

The very question frightened Herod and because he was frightened, so too was all of Jerusalem. They knew the damage he could do.

Herod called for the magi and in this meeting we see the paranoia take over because he lies at that meeting. We know the end of the story; Herod did not want the magi to find the baby Jesus so that he could go and pay him homage also. Herod lies to gain trust, loyalty, to get what he wanted.

The magi go on to complete their journey. They find Mary and the baby in a house, not a stable, with Joseph nowhere to be found. Great timing from the new dad. And it’s here that the magi have a choice. They had already met with Herod likely in his palace. He looked like a king, acted like a king, and had the title of a king. But now they stood in the home of a palestinian peasant family, looking at an impoverished young mother with a baby. They could have said, the star must have been wrong, surely this baby is no king. Let’s take our tribute and treasures to Herod, the real king.

But they didn’t. Instead, they knelt as in worship to this baby and offered him their gifts, but not just any gifts. Gifts that say these wisemen from another country, who practiced another religion, really understood who this baby Jesus was: they gave gold as for a king, frankincense to be burned as to a God, and myrrh for the embalming of a mortal. And since no angel visited Mary telling her all about this baby Jesus, just Joseph in Matthew’s gospel (and we all know how well husbands communicate to their wives), these gifts told Mary for the first time who her son truly was.

With gifts given, the magi must decide what to do next: ignore the dream, tell Herod where the baby is, and hope he was authentic? Or disregard and disobey the king and go home by another road, one that was likely longer or more difficult or unknown all together?

Fortunately, they chose to go another way.

We all have a Herod in our lives. It’s that thing, that person, that political party that lies to you in order to gain some sort of power over you. You call it great because for some time now its been around, its made you feel secure, it’s done some good things for you, but at a cost you can’t afford. It is that thing that makes you think you have the same interest at heart, but in reality it’s hurting you more than helping you.

Perhaps your Herod is sports, whether you play them, watch them, or bet on them. The lie being told is that life is only good when you win, that it should be the most important thing in your life, that your identity is intertwined with this game or team, and that your value as a person depends on how many points you score, records you break, or how much money you win. So you put all your gifts toward this, but it comes at cost.

Or perhaps your Herod is your job. It gives you enough to keep you satisfied, you’ve been at a while so it feels secure. But it tells you that you can always earn more, that you’re just a few steps away from that promotion, and that your interests really are the same at heart. They want from you all your gifts; yet, who benefits the most and at what cost?

Or perhaps your Herod is a political party or politician. And in our heightened political times,

especially with it being a presidential election year, there are and will be many Herods pinning for our loyalty. They will lie to you to gain your trust. But in reality they will do whatever it takes to gain or remain in power. And if you feel secure or at home with a party or a politician, that is your Herod. Yet, as followers of Jesus we are politically homeless, constantly working to make God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven, which means critiquing and challenging always the powers that be and doing all we can to protect the most vulnerable. If we fail to do that, it comes at cost.

And the cost of any Herod is always more than we can bear: it’s relationships, it’s our identity, it’s time, it’s the wellbeing of ourselves, our neighbors, and it’s sin.

Jesus comes to liberate us from our herods and give another kingdom for you to offer your gifts.

He might not look like a king or act like a king, but he bears the title Emmanuel, God with Us,

and his only interest is forgiveness, and reconciliation, and salvation for you and all creation.

And he was willing to pay the cost of our sin, all our herods, on a cross, so that you can have all the gifts he offers: grace, love, and life eternal; here and now and forevermore.

So like the magi, we too have a choice between two kings. Choosing to follow Jesus is choosing where to place your loyalty and to whom you offer your gifts. It means frustrating those who are in power. It means taking another road, one that is likely longer, or more difficult for you, or unknown all together. It means bowing down to the one you’d least expect, like a peasant infant from Palestine.

The choice is yours. May the Spirit guide. Amen.

"Salt, Light and Chili to Taste"

Matthew 5:13-20

[Jesus said,] “You are the salt of the earth. But if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything and is thrown out and trampled under foot.”

“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and places it under a bushel basket, but on a lamp stand where it gives light to all in the house. Therefore, let your light shine before others so that they might see your good works and give glory to your father in heaven.

“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

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I want to show you a quick little video of a prank I saw recently online. It happens kind of quickly at the beginning, so in case you miss it, you should know that, when this mother asks her husband and son to try her new chili recipe, they don’t see her cover a heaping spoonful of salt with a little bit of chili and a couple of beans before spoon-feeding it to them to get their opinion.

SALT PRANK VIDEO (A wife and mother tricks her husband and son to try her “new chili recipe,” and feeds them each a spoonful of salt, covered up with a small bit of chili. They pretend it tastes fine and refuse to tell her it’s terrible.)

The tag line on the video said something about how far men would go to avoid trouble … even, apparently, about something as small and insignificant as a terrible tasting batch of chili.

When Jesus tells the crowds on the hillside in this morning’s Gospel that they are the salt of the earth and the light of the world, he wasn’t talking about chili recipes or practical jokes. He was trying to get them to think differently about the kind of flavor their faith brings to the world around them. And, I happen to think, all of it has more than a little bit to do with their willingness or unwillingness – and ours – to engage a bit of trouble for the sake of the kingdom along the way.

“You are the salt of the earth,” he tells them. “But if salt has lost its taste – if you have lost your flavor – what good is it? What good are you? What are you doing here? What’s the point of it all?”

“You are the light of the world,” Jesus says. “Like a city on the hill… like a lamp on a stand… like a beacon in the night. Don’t cover yourselves up… don’t hide under a basket. Let your light shine so others can see what you’re up to; so people know what God is doing through you… and for you… and for the sake of the world.”

I think the reason mainline denominations of the Christian church in the world are struggling these days – failing to reach younger generations, I mean, or to connect with those cynical about who we are and what we’re up to – is because we’ve lost some of our taste, some of our saltiness, some of what adds flavor and zest and zip to the world around us.

What I mean is, so many talk about the generosity and abundance of God, but too many are looking to collect on that, to benefit from that themselves, rather than to give it away. Too many live, quite notoriously, with clenched fists and closed wallets.

The Church uses words like “mission” and “outreach” but consumes itself with itself too much of the time, worrying more about buildings and budgets and butts in seats than about leaving what’s comfortable… living in the world… seeking out, finding, and really loving our neighbor.

For generations, mainline denominations like Lutherans, Episcopalians, Presbyterians and the like, have been singing – like we did last Sunday – “Red and Yellow, Black and White, they are precious in his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world,” but our churches aren’t getting any more colorful than we were when I first learned that song when I was in Sunday school.

And I don’t mean to rain on our parade here this morning. We have so much to be glad about and plenty to celebrate and even a little to be proud of when it comes to how we do Church here, in this place, and when I think of the very unique voice Cross of Grace is in our community.

But do you know that I’ve had three conversations, in as many weeks lately, with people in our neck of the woods, who were SURPRISED to know about Cross of Grace’s stance and wide welcome to the LGBTQ+ community? And that others have been equally surprised to learn about the very faithful, deliberate work we’ve tried to do here in recent years where racial justice and anti-racism are concerned?

It makes me wonder, under what kind of chili are we hiding our salt? And why? Why are what I – and so many of you – believe to be some of the most faithful and uniquely gracious things about our ministry, NOT things that more people out there – to whom it would matter most – even aware of?

So, I can’t help but be as inspired as I am unsettled by those words from Isaiah this morning – words that surely inspired and unsettled Jesus, too… all of that stuff about loosing the bonds of injustice; about letting the oppressed go free; about sharing my bread with the hungry; bringing the homeless poor into my house; covering the naked, and all the rest.

It’s all stuff that surely inspired and convicted Jesus to encourage people not to worship and practice their piety at the expense of their flavor … not to hide their light … not to keep their good works and good deeds to themselves – or make them too much about themselves – but to let it all shine for the sake of a world that needs to know it comes from the very heart of our God.

Because see, I think we can be too much like that mom with her salty chili or like that father and son who choke it down, pretending everything is just fine.

Because the truth is, the salt of God’s grace can be hard to serve up and share and even harder to swallow, sometimes, if we’re honest about it.

Because it means that when we see what’s happening in the world around us – as far away as Yemen and Ukraine, and as close to home as Memphis and Main Street – we’re supposed to call out its ugliness plainly and refuse to choke it down without saying or doing something to make it better.

It means we challenge each other to give more sacrificially, sometimes – more than feels safe or wise or fiscally responsible, even – because we have resources that most people in the world, statistically speaking, simply do not have.

It means we welcome, care for, and love, even, those the world refuses because so many of us have received welcome, care and love – by God’s grace – that we don’t deserve any more or any less than anybody else.

It means we do the hard work of being vulnerable to the mercy and forgiveness we proclaim, as much as we hope to change the world with that same mercy and forgiveness.

And we do all of this with hope – this salting the earth and lighting the world, I mean – we do it with hope for what Isaiah promises and what Jesus embodies: that our light – that the light of God – will break forth like the dawn; that our healing – that humanity’s healing – will spring up quickly; that our vindicator will go before us, that the glory of the Lord will have our back; that we will call and God will answer; that our needs will be satisfied in parched places; that, as God’s people, we will be known and seen and received, like a spring of water for the thirsty, like rebuilt ruins for those in need of refuge, like a firm foundation for those who can’t stand on their own; like a repairer of the breach for the broken among us, and like a restorer of streets to live in to a world searching for home.

Amen