Matthew 2: 1 –
12
Now
after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, magi
from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is he who has been born King
of the Jews? For we saw his star in the east and have come to worship him.”
When Herod the king heard this, he was troubled . . . Then Herod secretly
called the magi and determined from them the exact time the star appeared. And
he sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search carefully for the Child; and
when you have found him, report to me, so that I too may come and worship him.”
. . . When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. After
coming into the house they saw the Child with Mary his mother; and they fell to
the ground and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they presented to
him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned by God in a
dream not to return to Herod, the magi left for their own country by another
way.
*
There
are certain days as we go through the journey of our life that if we look real
carefully over our shoulder we just might catch a glimpse of Herod standing in
the road calling to us, asking us to stop by on our way back for a cup of
coffee.
This
Herod is a pretty clever fellow. He uses charm, confusion, doubt, hurt and
anger to get our attention. There are times when Herod’s offer looks pretty
good. But in the depths of our soul, we know that his intentions are less than
noble; and that as children of God we must avoid Herod at all costs and go home
by another way. We know that for us, like the magi, the only way home is
through the manger.
At
the moment of our conception, God made a decision that it was time for us to
begin our journey. He embraced us like a mother bundles up a beloved child to
go out into the cold for the very first time. And just like a parent might slip
a little identification note into the child’s pocket, just in case he or she
should get lost, God put a little piece of himself into each and every one of
us. That little piece of God is our immortal soul — it is the Christ-child
within us. Life is the journey of our soul back home to its loving creator.
In
order to return home to God, we must become whole; and to become whole we
ultimately have to recognize and embrace that Christ-child within. We need to
become like the wise men and enter the manger. But to do this, we need to leave
our baggage at the door because the manger is small — there’s only room enough
for a loving, trusting heart; a heart that has surrendered control and just
wants to be in the presence of that Christ-child. We have to enter the manger
on God’s terms, not our own — and God’s terms sometimes don’t make sense to us.
It’s
hard to be loving and trusting enough to put down our baggage and enter that
manger. Herod’s voice keeps calling us away. He uses many voices to trick us,
like he tried to trick the magi. For some of us he uses the voice of hurt and
abandonment as he whispers in our ear, “You can’t go in there. What if the
Christ-child ends up leaving you or betraying you?” For others he uses the
voice of fear and anger, “You can’t go in there. What will happen to you if you
open yourself and become vulnerable? Won’t the Christ-child reject you like so
many others have done?” For many he uses the voice of the world, “There will be
plenty of time later to enter the manger. Right now you have to get your
degree; you have to raise your family; you have to build some security for the
future; you have to be a success; you have to find your niche and express
yourself.”
Herod
uses a different voice to keep me out of the manger. It might be the same voice
that he tries to use with many of you. It is the voice of frustration and anger
at God for appearing to be a passive bystander to the 11:00 o’clock news.
I
had begun to prepare this homily late one night in early December, many years
ago. As I sat in my room thinking about the imagery of the manger, my attention
was drawn to the TV in the next room. CNN was broadcasting live from a small
church in California where a funeral was in progress — a funeral for Polly
Klaas, the beautiful twelve year old child abducted at knifepoint by a stranger
from a slumber party in her own home. The camera zoomed in on the sanctuary of
the church where Polly’s family stood crying. As the singer Linda Ronstadt sang
Polly's favorite song, A Whole New World
from Aladdin, loving photographs of
Polly and her family throughout her brief life were shown on the screen.
I
put the draft of my homily down and began to weep. I wept for Polly and her family. And I remembered other children
and other families for whom I have wept: Etan Patz, the six year old boy who
disappeared many years ago on his way to school in Greenwich Village; Yosaf
Hawkins, the sixteen year old honor student whose life was taken away by a mob
of racists on a Brooklyn street because he, as an African American teenager,
had the audacity to visit a friend in their all white neighborhood; Adam Walsh,
Sara Anne Wood, Jessica Guzzman, whose mother was a co-worker of mine. The
litany could go on and on.
In
my grief, I felt myself standing at the entrance to the manger wanting to go in
for comfort. But Herod came up next to me and whispered in my ear, “Ask him
why? Why does he let it keep happening day after day: tragedy, suffering, pain?
Why doesn’t he do something to stop it? After all, he’s in charge, he’s God.”
As
I stood frozen in the doorway of the manger, the gentle eyes of the
Christ-child gazed into my soul, and a voice without sound answered me. It is
the same voice I have heard many times as I sat alone in the church by the
tabernacle. “I have chosen to be small,” the voice said, “I do not walk and I
do not speak. I need you to be my hands and my feet. I need you to be my voice.
I need you and your sisters and brothers to bring my love into the world; to
make things different, to be my light in the darkness, my presence in the
chaos; to lessen the pain and suffering, to comfort the victims of tragedy
until I can bring them and you back home and make everything alright.”
To
enter the manger, we need to let go of the hurts, the fears and angers. We need
to say, “Here I am Lord, I am yours. I trust you. Use me as you see fit to ease
the pain in the world. I am yours, I love you, your will be done.”
God
is always calling us home; but we cannot be distracted by the many voices of
Herod. We must go home by another way. The pain and the tragedies that Herod
speaks about are very, very real. But, in the end, they will all pass away
along with Herod himself, disappearing as if an illusion. The only thing that
will remain is the Christ-child within the manger, the note that God slipped
into our pocket — that little piece of God within us.
……………………………………………………………………………………..
Readers
of this blog might enjoy these books by Deacon Lex. Both are available on
Amazon.com:
Just
to Follow My Friend: Experiencing God’s Presence in Everyday Life
Synchronicity
as the Work of the Holy Spirit: Jungian Insights for Spiritual Direction and
Pastoral Ministry
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