The
holy gospel according to Matthew (2:1-12).
In
the time of King Herod,
after
Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea,
magi
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 magi
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.
The
gospel of the Lord.
-----
Matthew’s
gospel is the gospel of dreams, or so it begins at least. On the fourth Sunday of Advent, when we
heard of Joseph’s dilemma between divorcing Mary publicly or privately, God
comes to Joseph in a dream and points to a third, more imaginative option of
remaining with Mary and raising the child that will be named Jesus.
Then
when Jesus is born, the magi, stargazers whom we could call astrologers or
wizards, see a star—a supernova explosion. For months, maybe even more than a year, they follow the
star, trusting the vision set forth in the night sky. They journey from far away in search of and out of faith in
“the child who has been born king of the Jews.”
They
make it as far as Jerusalem before stopping for directions. Their wonder at the star and its
meaning is met with fear and then scheming. King Herod and all of Jerusalem—or at least all of Jerusalem
who is close enough to Herod to know—are afraid. Then begins the planning to remove the threat to Herod’s
reign, slyly sending the magi on under the guise of also wanting to pay homage
to Jesus. Herod’s real plan will
be revealed in next week’s gospel, but first the magi have more to do.
Having
learned that Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and having unknowingly tipped Herod
off, the magi continue their journey.
The star stops and so do they.
They enter a home—Mary and Joseph will probably have found a more permanent
place to stay after all of this time instead of the stable we heard about on
Christmas Eve. “overwhelmed with joy,”
the magi enter the house, see Mary and Jesus and “they [kneel] down and [pay]
him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they [offer] him gifts of
gold, frankincense, and myrrh.”
It
is at this point that we usually stop the Christmas story. The magi arrive, the gifts are given,
and our finger is on the fast forward button—but not this year.
Because
the story continues.
The
magi, who were so focused on the stars up in heaven and the baby in Bethlehem,
have missed the powerful danger King Herod poses. If left to their own devices, they would return to
Jerusalem, handing Jesus, Mary, and Joseph over to King Herod and to death for
the threat this baby poses.
But
once again God comes in dreams, warning the magi not to return to Jerusalem,
but instead to take the “scenic route” home, avoiding Jerusalem and, in
particular, King Herod. The magi,
defy King Herod’s orders, engaging in civil disobedience to give this baby,
“born king of the Jews,” a chance at life.
Next
week will bring another dream – to Joseph again. It is fitting that these dreams are coming as the calendar
shifts from 2016 to 2017.
Today
we are beginning a new calendar year.
As we look ahead, we also dream dreams of our own. For some those dreams stay in our heads
or hearts. For others they are
written down under titles like “Resolutions.” Many of these dreams are dreams for ourselves or maybe our
family—dreams of better health: eating more fruits and veggies or being more
active. Maybe it’s a dream of
reading more, cooking more, having more family dinners each month, praying
together as a family.
What
about our dreams for others around the world? Or for our community?
In many Native American cultures, there is a concept called Seven
Generations. Native theologian Vine Deloria, Jr. understood the Seven Generations—the generations kept in mind
in decision-making for many native communities—in a way I hadn’t heard before. Vine Deloria, Jr. explained the Seven
Generations as the generations closest to you.
So, when making decisions or dreaming dreams, the decisions
and dreams would involve our great grandparents, grandparents, parents, our own
generation, our children, our grandchildren, and our great grand children. Not just the ones directly related to
us, but their whole generation. It
is a more connected approach.
Instead of just thinking of ourselves or our own family, or thinking of
the Seven Generations as our great, great, great, great, great grandparents or
ahead to our potential great, great, great, great, great grandchildren, we
think more broadly as well.
We
dream dreams with our great grandparents in mind and others in their
generation. Will they live the end
of their life in poverty or suffering?
How did they live in the world, reusing and repurposing far more than we
who are so quick to recycle or buy new rather than repair? What lessons have they taught us in our
family?
When
we dream dreams, we also keep in mind our peers who struggle to make a life or
feed their families, who flee from wars as refugees only to face hostility in
new countries, or who struggle against illnesses that fight to claim their
quality of life, if not their whole life.
And
we think of the great grandchildren—ours or those of friends and family, all
who come after us. What will earth
be like for them? Will the extreme
weather of climate change make the places we call home uninhabitable, the lands
we farm unfarmable? Will nuclear
warfare have decimated the planet?
Will science, literature, and the arts have discovered cures, bridged
differences, and freed us from hatred and fear?
Dreaming
our own dreams is important, but it is not just wondering about our own dreams for
the future and the present. What
are God’s dreams? What is God’s
dream for our great grandparents’ generations? For our generations?
For the generations coming into being as we speak?
How
do we consider our lives, our politics, our environment, our economy, and our
planet with God’s dreams for the seven generations? What would happen if we took some time today to dream not
only for ourselves, but for our community and the whole planet.
What if we wrote down our dreams and
our wonders about God’s dreams for a community and a planet where all who are
hungry receive the food they need?
Where all have shelter from the elements? Where all can live without fear? What if we put those dreams up on our mirror, by our
nightstand, or in our Bible so that we see them throughout the year and are reminded
of God’s dreams for everyone and our dreams for this year?
How
might we live differently then? How
might we live differently if we remembered God’s dreams for us and for the
whole world? For the people we do not know?
Every
time someone is ordained that I know, my favorite gift to give is the book God’s Dream by Desmond Tutu. I think I read it last January for a
children’s sermon. And the thing that
I put in the front cover is my prayer for them and my prayer for us this year:
May
your dreams be God’s dreams and may God’s dreams be yours.
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