God’s grace and peace be with all of you.
The Christian festival known as Epiphany takes place twelve days after Christmas. (That’s actually where the “12 days of Christmas” in the song come from.) Technically, today is the 12th day of Christmas and tomorrow is Epiphany, but we decided to mark Epiphany a day early this year.
If I asked you what Christmas is celebrating, I think we could all come up with the answer. Christmas is the festival of Jesus’ birth. But what about Epiphany? This one is a little more obscure.
We sometimes use the word “epiphany” when we talk about a sudden realization or insight. I think of it like that light bulb coming on above your head. Epiphany is a Greek word that literally means “to appear upon” or “to shine upon,” kind of like that cartoon lightbulb.
In the church, “Epiphany” refers to the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles, and it’s connected to the gospel text I just read, in Matthew 2. Before this part of the story, the only people who had heard about the birth of the Messiah were Jewish. Mary and Joseph were Jewish. Elizabeth and Zechariah, who appear in the gospel of Luke, were Jewish. The shepherds were Jewish. But in Matthew 2, the news of Jesus’ birth reaches “wise men from the East,” the magi. They’re not Jewish. They’re foreigners. Matthew doesn’t tell us exactly where they were from, but it’s most likely they were from the Parthian empire, in the part of the world known today as Iran. They were probably priests of Zoroastrianism. They were definitely not Jewish.
The festival of Epiphany celebrates that the good news of Jesus is not just for Jewish people. It’s not just for residents of Bethlehem, or of the Roman province of Judea. The good news about the birth of Jesus, the Messiah, the Son of God, is for all people, all nations. This good news is for humble shepherds outside of the little town of Bethlehem—but it’s also for wealthy priests of Zoroastrianism, traveling from a foreign empire.
Epiphany takes the message of Christmas—the good news that God has become flesh—and extends that message to the whole world. Emmanuel! God is with us! Whoever you are, wherever you are, Gentile or Jew, rich or poor, young or old, this good news is meant for you.
Now, I’d love to end my sermon right there, with the good news proclaimed to all nations. But there is some other stuff in this Epiphany story in Matthew that we need to talk about. Because, you see, this message isn’t received as good news by everyone.
The magi come from the east, and they travel first to Jerusalem, the capital. They’ve seen a sign that a king has been born, so naturally they go to the palace. They ask King Herod about the child who has been born king of the Jews. “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him.”
The birth of the king of the Jews is not good news for Herod. For Herod, this news represents a direct threat to his power, his position. For the people of Jerusalem, this was an ominous sign of an impending power struggle, perhaps another civil war. Severe enough unrest could lead to a crushing response from Rome.
So Herod and the city of Jerusalem are afraid. Herod directs the magi to Bethlehem, where the Messiah was prophesied to be born. He determines when the so-called “king of the Jews” was born, and he tells the magi he also wants to pay homage to the child.
The magi go, they find Jesus and Mary, they pay homage and give gifts. Then, the gospel tells us, “Having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.”
That’s where our gospel reading ends. But I want us to hear what happens next, picking up in verse 13. This is how the story continues:
Now after the magi had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”
When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”
Because the magi didn’t return to Herod, Herod didn’t know exactly where the “king of the Jews” was to be found. So he decided to kill all the children in the area who were the right age—two years or younger.
Sit with this for a moment. Herod ordered the killing of any children in and around Bethlehem, in an attempt to eliminate a threat to his power. To issue such an order is a monstrous act. But Herod wasn’t the one wielding the sword. He had soldiers who carried out those orders. Who killed innocent children at Herod’s behest.
Twentieth century history taught us that “I was just following orders” is not a valid excuse. I’d say the same is true about the slaughter of the innocents in Matthew 2. People were ordered to kill children, and they obeyed. They made Herod’s murderous intentions into bloody reality.
Some Bible scholars say that there were probably not very many children under 2 years old in Bethlehem. Bethlehem was a small town, after all. Herod’s order might have only meant the deaths of five or six babies. Perhaps for Herod, that was an acceptable level of collateral damage.
But how can we say that “only” five or six children were killed? How can we say that, knowing that each child is precious to their family? I have a friend who lost her baby at birth, and it was a world-shattering loss. I know some of you have lost children. It’s unimaginable. It’s heart-breaking.
I know this is not a pleasant topic to consider. But I don’t want us to look away. We can’t ignore this part of the story. God didn’t come to earth because everything was perfect. God came to earth because our world is broken, our world is marred by fear and violence and suffering. We desperately need Emmanuel, God-with-us, precisely because of the Herods of the world and those who follow their orders.
We can’t remember the magi bringing gifts to Jesus and ignore the wrath of King Herod. We can’t celebrate the Christmas story while forgetting that the holy family were refugees, fleeing persecution. We can’t pay homage to Jesus, the Son of God, while shutting our eyes and ears to the suffering of innocent children in the world today. Innocent children continue to die from famine, from illness, from inadequate medical care, from domestic and military violence. The slaughter of the innocents in Matthew 2 is still going on today.
Jeremiah described the “voice heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children;” In Matthew, that cry rises again from the little town of Bethlehem. Today, do we hear the same voice? Do we hear it in Adelanto, California and El Paso, Texas? Do we hear the lamentation coming from the shores of the Rio Grande?
At least six children have died in US Customs and Border Protection custody in the last year and a half. And yes, it’s a small percentage of the thousands of migrants who have been detained, but after all, Herod only killed a small percentage of the children in Judea. Every child represents a family shattered by loss, a family that will never be the same again.
We don’t know the names of the children Herod killed. We do know the names of some of the children who are dying in our own country. Children like Darlyn Cordova-Valle, who was 10 years old when she died. And Jakelin Maquín, age 7. And Felipe Gomez Alonzo, age 8. And Juan de León Gutiérrez, age 16. And Wilmer Ramírez Vásquez, age 2. And Carlos Hernandez Vásquez, age 16.
Don’t get me wrong: we can debate and disagree about immigration policy. But as Christians, we cannot witness the suffering and death of children and look the other way. We can’t treat this as acceptable collateral damage. We just can’t.
The magi didn’t know that Herod had murderous intentions. But they were warned in a dream not to return to Jerusalem, and they went home by another road.
We may not always know the cause of the suffering of innocents. But once we know, then we have also received a warning. We, too, are called to take another road. After we pay homage to the Christ child, we shouldn’t return to the halls of power, to enable the slaughter of children.
We who pay homage to Christ, who call him our Lord and our King, are called to walk a different road. We mustn’t follow the ways of empire, the paths of fear and selfishness and violence. We can’t enable the murderous efforts of the powers of this world. We have to travel a different road, a different path.
There is a star that guides us: the star of God’s saving love, the illumination of God’s merciful hope for humanity. We follow the star, we follow the path of discipleship, we walk the road of God’s intentions.
The good news of Epiphany is that God is with us—all of us. Jews and Gentiles. Shepherds and magi. Citizens and refugees. God is with us, whatever our country of birth, whatever our circumstances. Epiphany shows us that the message of Christmas is meant for all people. Like the magi, we are invited into God’s kingdom, a kingdom that transcends borders and nations, a kingdom that promises peace on earth. We are called to serve the king of creation. Let us pay him homage. Amen.
Pastor Jennifer Preaching 