This sermon was preached at Glenwood and Canoe Ridge Lutheran Churches, Decorah, Iowa on January 6, 2019. It’s based on Matthew 2:1-12. If you’d prefer to listen to it, find it at https://soundcloud.com/stacey-nalean-carlson.
Matthew 2:1-12
1In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, 2asking, “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.” 3When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; 4and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. 5They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
6‘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.’ ”
7Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. 8Then 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.” 9When 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. 10When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. 11On 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. 12And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
Christmas is in the clearance aisle, Valentine’s Day candy is actively derailing New Year’s resolutions, and everywhere you look there’s someone…or something…promising 6 weeks to a new you (if you can just steer clear of that Valentine’s Day aisle).
Writer Shauna Niequist recently shared some words that are resonating with a lot of people. She wrote, Some days I feel like the internet is 100 versions of ‘strive for greatness!’ and ‘crush everything!’ and ‘be all the things!’ and ‘how she’s killing the game and you can, too!’ and ‘these are the 64,863 things successful people do before dawn.’ But how about this: you don’t have to crush or kill or slay anything today. You don’t have to strive or wrangle or hustle or do anything violent today. You can just be a human, in a quiet and honest way, and that’s good too.1
In these early days of January, when the culture is caught up in self-improvement via consumerism, and weary ones everywhere are wondering how we’re supposed to do everything we think we ought to do, the church celebrates Epiphany.
It’s not a marketable holiday. You won’t find it on the shelves. But it’s real. And it’s here today. And it comes with an invitation not to do more or to be more, but to simply join with the wise men as they pay homage to the Christ child, as they worship him. It’s an invitation to recognize Jesus as Lord—not your mirror or your calendar or your scale or your wallet. Jesus. Your shepherd. Your light. Your truth. Your life.
This word translated here as homage is elsewhere translated as worship or bow down. The Greek word suggests falling to one’s knees and kissing the ground to show respect to one’s superior or to make supplication.2
The gospel of Matthew employs this word more than any of the other gospels, beginning here with wise men from the east falling to their knees and worshiping the child and ending with Jesus’ disciples worshiping their risen Lord. In between, Jesus is worshiped by a leper (Lord, if you choose, you can make me clean), by a leader of the synagogue (My daughter has just died; but come and lay your hand on her, and she will live), and by a Canaanite woman (Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon).
If there’s a common theme to these acts of worship—this recognition that Jesus is Lord—it’s that they emerge from times of suffering, grief, and helplessness. The leper—estranged from his community—cannot heal his body nor his spirit. The leader of the synagogue—accustomed to a place of power—is helpless in the face of his daughter’s death. The Canaanite woman—seemingly beyond the scope of Jesus’ ministry—dares to believe that this Savior has come even for her. She can’t free her daughter from the demon that torments her, but Jesus can.
There’s something about the most painful times in our lives that enables us to bow down and worship , to fall to our knees in the painful—but freeing—recognition that we are not capable of saving ourselves. Nor do we need to. We have a savior. This world has a savior—God’s word of unconditional love born in Bethlehem not to condemn us, but to love us into true life.
Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber shared her annual public service announcement on December 31: there is no resolution that if kept will make you more worthy of love. You, as your actual self, not as some made –up ideal self, are already worthy.3
Resolutions aren’t bad. Intentions, goals…all worthwhile. But they are not your god. They are not the basis for determining your value. You are already loved…exactly as you are today.
Sometimes we forget that. It’s easy to forget, especially with so many other idols competing to be our lord.
Even the wise men go looking for one king and find themselves in the presence of another—one who professes an intention to worship the Christ child, but in reality wants to destroy him because he’s a threat to the king’s power.
Even Jesus himself is challenged, led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. The devil … showed [Jesus] all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.”
It was an empty promise…and Jesus knew it. Trusting the word of God, he responded: Away with you, Satan! For it is written, “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.”
In this season of Epiphany, the star of Bethlehem goes ahead of us. The light of Christ illumines our way. God speaks—in Word and Sacrament—turning us from treacherous kings and traitorous scales and all the idols that clamor for us to worship them—and instead leading us to Jesus, the only one who brings life abundant.
Let us pray. Jesus, you are our Savior. Your light illumines our way. Help us to see clearly the empty promises of all that would claim to give us life. Let us fall down and worship only you. Amen.