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Troubling Discovery Text:
Matthew 2:1-12 In troubled times most people hang on to even the slimmest threads of hope. The families of the miners trapped in that West Virginia coal mine earlier this week, gathered together in the nearby Baptist church building, anticipated “a miracle.” They were hoping against hope that their loved ones would be found alive. Now we all know how a miscommunication launched, at first, the relief and good news they were hoping for only to be turned to even greater grief when they learned that the first reports were tragically wrong. The emotional swing from hope to joyful relief and back again to grief and despair resulted in expressions of righteous anger. The phrase “roller coaster” was heard to describe the emotional experience of that night.
The Gospel for The Epiphany bespeaks a similar contrast of reactions ranging from faith, hope and joy to outright murderous rage. The birth of the Christ was an occasion of the joy of discovery of the newborn king of the Jews for some wise men from the east. Matthew says of them, “they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy.” But what was a joyful discovery for them was the exact opposite for others. For, “when Herod the king heard this, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.” How can the same bit of news be an occasion for joy and of trouble at the same time? In each of the Gospels the cross looms from the beginning to the end as the Good News of salvation clashes with the incredible blindness of those He came to save. Isaiah saw that contrast in the first two verses of his sixtieth chapter, “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples” (Is. 60:1-2a). In our Epistle St. Paul explains the gospel in part by using the word “mystery” meaning that the goodness, truth and joy of the gospel can only be perceived by means of this thing we call “faith.” “This mystery,” he says, “is that the Gentiles are fellow heirs, members of the same body” with those believers of Jewish background. He calls this mystery “the unsearchable riches of Christ,” “the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God…so that through the church the manifold wisdom of God might now be made known.”
It was this wisdom of God that made these men from the east wise. It was a matter of faith for the wise men. The star which they had seen in the east was used by God to inspire faith that made them “get up and go” to search for One born to be king of the Jews. Faith is an active, living thing. Without faith, however, it remained a mystery to Herod and all Jerusalem with him. Without faith Herod could only interpret the news of One born to be king of the Jews as a threat. Under the guise and pretext of feigned religion—“that I too may come and worship him”—Herod set his plan in motion to eliminate this rival ruler. What began here resulted in the slaughter of the Holy Innocents as “he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had ascertained from the wise men” [Matthew 2:16 (ESV)]. From the very beginning, then, we see the mystery or crisis of faith and unbelief as the Christ is either to be worshiped or eliminated. A Troubling Discovery, indeed.
Now one would think that there would be a third option, that is, that the Christ need neither to be worshiped nor to be eliminated, but simply to be comfortably ignored. Yet such ignorance is but a cloak for unbelief. There is no middle ground. Jesus would say, “Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters” [Matthew 12:30 (ESV)].
It is to be presumed that by your mere attendance here this evening, the fact that you are here is evidence in itself that you have been drawn by faith to worship the Christ. Oh, there are times when the thick darkness of doubt threatens, when you wonder whether whatever it was that initially drew you to faith in Christ is still there, whether your worship is true and vital, whether it's worth it. We are reminded of the time after Jesus' “I am the bread of life” discourse that St. John tells us, “After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.” The light of faith can grow weak and even die. Even the Twelve Apostles would be tempted to fall away, and so Jesus asked them, “Do you want to go away as well?” Peter put his finger on the only source and fuel for faith when he answered, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” [John 6:66-69 (ESV)]. Yet even with the occasional bright flashes of spiritual awakening that happen from time to time, still, Jesus would announce to them in the Upper Room of Maundy Thursday, “You will all fall away because of me this night” [Matthew 26:31 (ESV)], and that both Peter and Judas would betray him. Unbelievable? Incomprehensible? Indeed, and so it was that after his arrest in the darkness of Gethsemane St. Matthew confesses as one that was there that “all the disciples left him and fled” [Matthew 26:56 (ESV)]. Not only his disciples, however, but even “the crowds that had assembled for” the spectacle of his crucifixion, “when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts” [Luke 23:48 (ESV)]. The thick darkness of unbelief seemed a shroud over all alike.
In this Holy Child, however, is the light of life. This light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. By His cross He entered the darkness of death in order to break its hold. And by His resurrection He “brought life and immortality to light” [2 Tim. 1:10 (ESV)] to all who believe. The star enlightened the wise men. The infant before Whom they knelt was the Light of the world. Let us kneel, too, before the Light of life, and be enlightened with sure hope and godly joy, with firm faith and the greatest of God's gifts, love. ___________________
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