Galatians 6:1-17, Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

“So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest-time, if we do not give up. So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.”

Let us Pray:
Your Word, O Lord, is our inspiration, our light, and our motion. Your Word, O Lord, is power, is wisdom, and is comfort. Guide us today, as we listen to the Word read and proclaimed, and fill us with understanding and with the desire to change. Speak Lord! Your people listen! Amen.

I want to begin by expressing my excitement about being with you this morning. This has been a long time coming, but we are here, so thank you for the invitation.

My wife, Nicky, is joining me, and we also have a 5-year-old daughter named Oonagh. We left her home, put Sesame Street on, and left out some food so she would be good for a few hours.

I am a lectionary preacher, so the scripture passages have already been chosen for me by people much smarter than I am. The lectionary provides us with five possibilities: a passage from the Hebrew Scriptures, a Psalm, a passage from one of the Epistles, and a Gospel. The three readings are chosen around a theme and usually, but not always, flow from one to another.

I believe we should have more scripture in worship, not less. So, I usually pick two readings and the Psalm, and since I like audience participation, I like to read the Psalm responsively.

I like to weave present-day situations into my sermons because if what you hear is not relevant to life, what’s the point of listening? Sometimes, I might be controversial, and that’s on purpose. I look at the job of the preacher as the one who comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable. Our job is to move you, ever so slightly, towards your potential and to further God’s Kingdom here on earth.

If you disagree, that’s fine; let’s discuss it. If you agree, even better; let’s discuss that as well. We have lost the art of conversation in our country; it’s one side yelling at the other and just waiting for a chance to yell back. And here we are, the Church stuck in the middle as the referee in all of this, or at least we used to be.

So, let’s get right to it.

Paul, writing to the Galatian Church, gives us instruction to hold each other accountable: “If anyone is detected in a transgression, you who have received the Spirit should restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness.”

In the passage immediately preceding this, Paul summarizes the law and commandments: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” What is interesting about the written word here is that his statement is in quotation marks because Paul is quoting Jesus.

For me, this sums up the Gospel, and I should stop here and take a seat. But that’s not gonna happen.

What do I mean by this? The Ministry of Jesus begins and ends with love. Everything Jesus did was motivated by love. Jesus tells us that He is the fulfillment of all the law and the prophets, and He gives us a new commandment: to love God and to love everyone else. By the way, everyone else includes those who don’t love us back.

You will find that I often return to this passage in my preaching because, as I said, I believe it is central to the Gospel; it is the Gospel. If we cannot love one another, the rest does not matter.

Now, I can see you squirming already, so let me give you a break, just a little. Yes, we are commanded to love everyone, but what Jesus does not say is that we have to like them or approve of what they do. And that is what Paul is getting to.

So, what does this love everyone look like?

On July 4, 2004, I was ordained to the ministry of Word and Sacrament. I was not ordained in the United Church of Christ, but rather, I was ordained into the Romanian Orthodox Church. It is a long story of how I transitioned from the Roman Catholicism of my birth to the Orthodoxy of my Ordination, and then to the United Church of Christ, so I will not bore you with all those details yet.

For whatever reason, ordination in the Orthodox Church does not involve the taking of vows. However, years after my ordination, I was with a group of clergy on retreat, and we renewed our vows as part of that retreat.

Here is what I vowed to do:

“Will you be faithful in preaching and teaching the Gospel, in administering the sacraments and rites of the Church, and exercising pastoral care and leadership? I will, relying on God’s grace.”

“Will you seek to regard all people with equal love and concern and undertake to minister impartially to the needs of all? I will, relying on God’s grace.”

I have made a vow to preach and teach faithfully and to regard all people with equal love and concern. This has not always been easy.

However, Paul instructs us to bring the wayward back to the fold gently. Again, looking back at the previous section from this letter, Paul says that one of the fruits of the Spirit is gentleness. We do not force the Gospel upon people.

In the passage from Luke, we hear the story of Jesus sending out the 70, not sure how we went from 12 to 70, but let’s just run with it. Anyway, he sends out the 70 and tells them to take nothing, accept whatever hospitality comes their way, and, if they are not accepted, leave.

Wait, the 70 says, we cannot call down curses upon them if they don’t accept us? We cannot call them names and make fun of them. We cannot send wild midnight tweets about them and how stupid they are? Jesus says, ‘Nope, just move on.’ Wipe the dust of the town off your feet and move on—gentleness, a fruit of the Spirit.

So, what does this mean for us?

Mohandas Gandhi said that we need to be the change we want to see in the world. If we want the world to listen, we need to be better listeners. If we want the world to be kind, we need to be kind. If we want the world to be peaceful, then we need to be peaceful. And if we want the world to love us, we need to love. Love everyone.

If we are going to call ourselves Christians, that needs to mean something. To be a follower of Jesus means to focus on the beatitudes rather than the 10 Commandments. We need to feed those who are hungry, not deprive them of food. We need to work towards systems that are fair to all, not just some. We must also protect the vulnerable and be the voice for those who have no voice in society. When Jesus said, “Follow me,” he was walking toward the poor and the powerless, not the rich and the powerful.

Paul says it quite plainly, “Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow.” If you sow hatred, that is what you will reap. But if you sow love, love is what we get in return.

On Friday, I had the great honor of reading the Declaration of Independence from the Pulpit at the Old North Church in Boston. I trembled as I read each word, “We hold these truths.” “All are created equal.” “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” I trembled just as I tremble when I read, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your mind, and all your soul, and love your neighbor as yourself.”

If we are going to call ourselves Christians, we have to start acting like Christians.

I no longer think of myself as a Christian; I call myself a follower of Jesus Christ. I get in trouble when I say this, but Jesus was not a Christian, and Jesus did not start a Church. Jesus came to show us a new way, a different way, a way of love. The other interesting point is that Jesus never had a harsh word for anyone except the religious leaders, whom he called a “brood of vipers.” I’m not sure about you, but I certainly don’t want to be called a “brood of vipers.”

So, we hold each other accountable. When we stray, we gently lead them back, and if we cannot do that, we let them go. We show them the love that God has shown us, we bless them, and send them on their way.

Loving does not mean we are doormats, nor does it mean we cannot seek justice. We hold people accountable for their words and actions, but we do so in a spirit of love.

Our task as the Church is quite simple: we are to bring the Kingdom of God right here to Berkley or wherever we live. God’s Kingdom is present, not on some distant cloud somewhere.

What does God’s Kingdom look like? We only need to read Matthew 25 for the answer:

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'”

In God’s Kingdom, we care for one another.

Friends, our world is rather crazy now, and maybe you don’t know what to do. I tell you, don’t give up. I live in constant hope, for I am a follower of Jesus Christ, and I have no other choice but to live in hope.

Yesterday, I was doing some research on the great theological website known as Facebook. You can find all the answers to all your problems right there. It’s amazing how many experts there are in the world, and they are all in one place, Facebook. Who knew?

I digress.

I was reading a post about the July 4th celebration in the town where we live, and how wonderful it was that the community came together. There was a comment about how bad things are in the world and how this person did not feel like celebrating much. I get it. But I responded that we cannot give up hope. We need to celebrate what is good, and there is still good in America and the world. It does not always make headlines, but there is good news.

But Church our work has not changed and will not change.

Our work is to:

Do Justice

Love Kindness

Walk humbly with God

… And it’s more important than ever.

Amen.

In May of 2021, Nicky and I were touring through Hull for the Annual Stem to Stern Yard Sale. We are collectors and sometimes sellers of vintage and antique items, and we thought a town-wide yard sale was an excellent opportunity to stock up on some of our favorites. We stopped in front of this little white Church in the Village to check the map for our next location, and I remember thinking, this is Methodist appointment season; I wonder if the Church is available.

That past March, I completed an interim pastorate in Beverly, and I decided to take some time away from the pulpit to reflect on the future. I started there on March 15, 2020, which, if you recall your history, was the first Sunday we were not allowed to gather for worship. We would spend the next year ministering to that congregation via this new-fangled thing called Zoom. We had only met the congregation once, and apart from one or two parking lot services that summer, everything was either virtual or pre-recorded. Needless to say, it took a lot out of us.

Later that same day in May, I sent a couple of emails to a few minister friends in the UMC, asking what one would need to do to be appointed. It all begins, they told me, with a letter to the District Superintendent. So, I fired off an email, and before long, I was sitting in Gould Hall meeting some of the folx from what was going to become my new congregation. That was August of 2021.

As I mentioned, I arrived at a time of extreme burnout from COVID-19 ministry. While I was at the Church in Beverly, I was also called to active duty with the Army to support the COVID mission here in Massachusetts. I would spend most of April and May 2020 traveling to Boston, the Holyoke Soldiers Home, the Tewksbury State Hospital, as well as other sites around the Commonwealth, supporting our soldiers and airmen as best as we could. Sometimes, we would hold four services on Sunday, and I would also pre-record my regular church service. O, and we had a newborn who joined our family in April 2020!

I became your pastor at a time of great upheaval in my life. I was unsure if I wanted to be a pastor anymore, but I felt God calling me to this place, a beacon of hope in the Village. I was unsure of myself and uncertain about the Methodist way of doing things, but you took me in and gave me a home.

Our time together began as most pastorates began rocky. I was trying to get to know you, and you were trying to get to know me. I have learned, through nearly 21 years of experience, that you cannot have many, if any, expectations of a congregation, and this was especially true after the COVID pandemic. The Church rebuilt itself during the COVID-19 pandemic, which I think is a good thing. We realized we did not need buildings and all the trappings of the institutional Church to minister to people in need. We became nimble, we thought quickly on our feet, and we adapted to all sorts of things. We figured it all out with very little support from anyone higher up in the food chain.

However, ministry is now different, and we must once again learn to adapt.

On my first Sunday here, I did not preach. Because your previous minister had abruptly left, you had to adapt and think on your feet. You established a Rota of lay folk who would preach, and on that first Sunday in August of 2021, someone else was scheduled. That Sunday, I provided for you what only an ordained minister of Word and Sacrament can provide; I stood behind that small table, I asked the Holy Spirit to bless the bread and the cup, and I offered the spiritual food that we all need. We brought our broken and weary bodies to this table laid out before us, and here, we found rest.

I recall how I trembled, as I do each time I take those sacred elements in my hands and raise them before you and proclaim, “the gifts of God for the people of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts with faith and with love.”

To me, this is no mere reenactment or symbol; this is the body of Christ. We ask the Holy Spirit to come and change not only these elements but us. We invite Jesus into our lives and ask that he change our hearts of stone to hearts of flesh. We come forward willingly and take and eat. We do not do this because we are worthy or as some reward for being good. No, we come because we are broken; we are bone weary from everything the world throws at us, and we come to find rest and nourishment. My friends, this is no mere symbol; this is life.

As many of you are aware, I was not ordained into the Methodist tradition; instead, I was ordained in the Eastern Orthodox Tradition. One of the reasons I walked away from the Church that called me to ordained ministry was because communion was not available to everyone. You had to belong to the club, you had to have your membership card, and you had to perform certain rituals to be found worthy to take and eat. But one day, while meditating on this idea of communion, I recalled the events of the Last Supper. You know the story. They were all gathered in that Upper Room, all conveniently sitting on one side of the table so DaVinci could capture the moment on canvas. But there were all there, all but one; John would abandon him when he needed them the most. Peter was there, the one who would deny him not once but three times. And Judas, poor Judas, he was right there, sitting with the rest. And this is what did it for me: Jesus, knowing what Judas was going to do, looked him in the eyes and said, ‘Take, this is my body given for you.’ Jesus provided communion, the bread of life, to the very man who was about to betray him. If Jesus can do that, who are we to tell anyone they cannot come?

All of you here today are welcome to join us at this table, whether you are saint or sinner. Those who are certain and those who are not. Those with questions and those with answers. My friends, Jesus does not judge you, and neither do I. And if you cannot come, let one of the ushers know, and I will bring it to you. This table is open to all.

My preaching ministry began that next Sunday, and I preached about love. Well, I guess I have preached about love in every sermon, but that Sunday, I recall preaching about love. In my mind, love is central to the message of the Gospel; love is the Gospel. Love is the only thing that matters because if we do not love, as Paul tells us today in his letter to the Galatians if we do not “love our neighbor as ourselves, the rest of this is worthless.

So, let’s get into it.

Paul says For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Now, as brilliant as Paul was, he did not come up on this by himself. Jesus started it all when He said, ‘I am the fulfillment of all the law and the prophets.’ He also said A new commandment I give to you: love God and Love your neighbor.

And your neighbor is everyone: your white neighbor, your black neighbor, your brown neighbor, your Hispanic neighbor, your Asian neighbor, your old neighbor,  your young neighbor, your neighbor who washes his car during a water ban, your neighbor who puts his little green back in your trash bin, your neighbor who does not use the little green bag but instead leaves a present for you, well on second thought, maybe not that neighbor. No, that one too. Your neighbor who aggravates you, as well as your neighbor who brings you chicken soup when you are not feeling well. Your neighbor who loves differently than you, your neighbor whose legal status or citizenship may not be what it is supposed to be, and yes, even your neighbor who votes against everything you believe in, those are the very people we are commanded to love.

However, the good news is that we do not have to like them. We do not have to agree with them on anything. Our blood can still boil when we see them, but we have to love them why because God loves them just like God loves you. God forgives them just like God forgives you. God accepts them just like God accepts you. My friends, we have no choice; we are commanded to do this.

If I can get a little political for a moment, I know it is very uncharacteristic of me to get political. It is my last Sunday, and they say you can do anything on your last Sunday.

Anyway, I think it is safe to say we have some rather significant issues in our Church, our country, and our world, and one of those, one of the biggest of those, is the lack of love. We no longer just disagree; we hate. We no longer just disagree with another person; we hate the person. I know it is difficult to love someone who stands in direct opposition to everything you hold dear, but we cannot hope ever to begin to heal the wounds of our nation and our world, and I am talking to everyone here because we did not get here alone. We cannot begin to heal the wounds that need healing until we can look each other in the eye, vehemently disagree with one another, yet still see the divine spark in the other.

In the Book of Genesis, we read about the creation of the world. The Creator created everything by speaking it into existence. Separated day from night, divided the dry land from water, created the birds of the air, the fish in the sea, and everything with just a word. But, when it came to humanity, the Creator got their hands dirty.

Genesis tells us that the Creator took the dust of the earth and formed humanity with the very hands of creation. And the Creator animated this new creation with the very breath of creation. God breathed God’s breath into creation. God filled us with Ruah, the very essence of the Creator, and this is what we call our soul —the very essence of our being. The very essence of our being was breathed into us, and we come alive when we take our first breath. Every human being was and is created in the same way; we all have the Ruah of God, the breath of God, the divine inherent in each of us. I know it’s hard to see sometimes, but it’s there.

If there is but one thing you take from me over the last few years, it is that love is the only answer to what is wrong in the world—the love of God for each of us and the love that we show to others. Again, we don’t have to like or agree, but we do have to love.

Love is central to the Gospel, and love is the only thing that will heal the wounds of this broken world.

Amen.

We are coming close to the end of the Easter Season. This past Thursday, the Church celebrated the day Jesus ascended to Heaven, and next week is the great feast of Pentecost. But this week, we are in this liminal space, the space in between, and John gives us the High Priestly Prayer of Jesus and his desire that all of us may be one.

Being one is essential, but does being one, united in a single thought or purpose, mean we cannot be individuals?  I don’t think so, and I don’t believe Jesus thought so either.

Last week, I talked about the spectrum of belief and practice amongst the 12 Apostles. Matthew, the Tax Collector and representative of the Roman government stood in direct opposition to everything that Simon the Zealot represented. Then there was Judas, who I believe was a pawn and did what he had to do to fulfill the mission. And Ole Peter, the denier. And who can forget our friend Thomas?

All of them were specifically chosen because they were not perfect. Listen, if you think your minister, bishop, rabbi, or other religious leader is going to be perfect, I have news for you. Ordination does change some things, but it does not alter the fact that we are human and, like the rest of you, we will make mistakes and disappoint people. I say this to you as much as to myself: stop looking for perfection from the clergy.

Although they were all Jewish and came from a similar general area, there were as many opinions on various matters as there were people, and that remains the case. Unity does not mean uniformity. Psalm 133 says in part, “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity!” It’s certainly nice when we can all agree, but sometimes, a minor disagreement can lead to essential changes.

Today is the 7th Sunday after Easter, but it is also the Commemoration of the Bishops who gathered 1700 years ago in a small town called Nicaea. Nicaea is located in what is now Turkey and was the site where approximately 318 bishops gathered from May to July 325 CE to address a heresy that was emerging within the Church.

 This was not the first time a council had been called. In Acts, we see James, the Bishop of Jerusalem, calling the others together to discuss an issue that had arisen between Peter and Paul. But this was the first time that almost all the bishops of the world gathered in one place. It is called the 1st Ecumenical Council, not because people of different faiths were present, but because they were all present.

The issue at hand was the nature and divinity of Jesus. Until this Council met, there was no established doctrine or single belief about much of anything other than that Jesus was born; he did certain things: he was crucified, died, rose again, ascended to Heaven, and sent the Holy Spirit. There was agreement because there had been eyewitness testimony. But the nature and divinity of Jesus?  How do we figure that out?

Without going into too much detail, the issue arose over Jesus’ divinity and his relationship to God. Was Jesus a created being? Was Jesus divine from birth, or did his divinity attach itself to him at some point? What is the nature and essence of Jesus about God? Although a decision and doctrine were made at the Council, I am not sure there is agreement on any of these questions even today.

At this time, there were two schools of thought, one in Alexandria and one led by a bloke called Aruis who, you have heard me mention before, was punched in the face by our very own Saint Nicholas.

Anyway, the Alexandrian school stated that Jesus was not created. Jesus was with God since the beginning. They point toward Genesis and God, saying, “Let us make them in our image.” Although Jesus was born a human, He was also divine from the beginning, and there was no time when Jesus was not. This is where the Trinitarian nature of the Church came about. Although God, the creator, was a separate entity, the essence was shared in equal parts with God the Redeemer, Jesus, and God the Sustainer, the Holy Spirit.

Okay, you all have the same look on your faces that I had when we discussed this over and over in seminary, so I will quickly move to Aruis, who believed none of it. Jesus was created at birth. His divinity was attached to him at his baptism. Etc.

I have been in church council meetings when there has been a knockdown, drag-out fight over the color of tablecloths for a church banquet; I cannot imagine what this must have been like. But they debated, discussed, fought, I am sure they laughed and cried, and, in the end, they had a statement, and part of the Church had been excommunicated and branded heretics so much for being one.

What came out of this Council is a creed, or the first part of a creed anyway. The creed lays out fundamental beliefs; these are the things we agree with. We don’t have to understand them fully, but we can all agree that this is a good starting point.

But what the creed hoped to do was to bring people together, which it did, but, at the same time, it divided people. Previously, people were doing their own thing. Churches had been founded all over the place, from Jerusalem to southern Africa, to India, and as far-flung as what we now call England.

The Church was local, governed locally by its bishop, who was usually, but not always, one of its members. The point is the Church existed at the regional level. Sure, there was a Bishop of Rome and a Patriarch in Constantinople and other places, but their jurisdiction did not extend beyond the boundaries of their cities.

The basics were present, but worship looked very different. The Church often adopted the local culture, incorporating the dress and heritage of the place where it existed. Many of the “saints” we have today were borrowed from the culture of the time and place. One example of this is Brigit, who was and is a significant influence on Celtic culture. There is a belief that Bridgit was one of the gods that the Church adopted, Christianized, if you will, to make the Church more palatable to the locals. Do not destroy the culture; adapt to it.

For me, there are certain fundamental beliefs one must have if one is going to call oneself a Christian. That makes us one. But at the same time, there are many, many ways to express that oneness and live it out. The greatest challenge for the Church is to make this 1700-year-old document relevant for today. Belief is not stagnant; it is organic and must adapt to the times. Belief might not change, but the language we use to express that belief does need to change.

I have often spoken of my Chaplaincy work. For me, Chaplaincy is the best expression of this idea of unity but not uniformity. The greatest gift Chaplaincy has given me is getting to work with people of different expressions of faith. I don’t just mean different expressions of Christian faith for which there are legions, but working with Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and those who have no faith or a faith so radically different from mine. I have learned a great deal from these dedicated men and women.

One of the duties of a military chaplain is to occasionally advocate with command of what we call religious accommodation. This might involve ensuring that there are kosher or halal meals available. I once had to advocate for a soldier who identified as a Norse Pagan, and he wanted permission to wear a gold bracelet, the symbol of his faith. Army regulations specify that when wearing a camouflage uniform, nothing shiny can be part of it: no gold rings or other jewelry.

My job was to sit with this soldier and not judge his faith but to get a sense of the seriousness of his faith and then write a letter that would eventually end up on the desk of the Secretary of the Army for a determination. I never thought I would be sitting with someone who identified as a Norse Pagan, but I learned a great deal from him, and we discovered that we shared many commonalities. We used different terms to describe things, but we found common ground. I did not judge him, and he did not judge me.

Several years ago, a scandal came about because a Roman Catholic deacon baptized someone in the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. The “rules” say that baptisms are to be in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. It was revealed that this deacon had committed this act not once but on numerous occasions, and it now invalidated all those baptisms. I’m all about the rules, but…

John, in the Gospel we heard today, relates Jesus’ prayer that just as he and God are one, we are one with each other. Although they share the same essence, Jesus and God are different. Just as you and I share the same belief, we express that belief differently. Even within denominations, there are other expressions of faith. Our worship service looks different than the worship service in Scituate, but the essence is the same.

Do we always have to agree? No. Martin Luther did not disagree with any part of the Church’s belief, nor did Zwingli, Calvin, or any of the other reformers. John Wesley agreed with the theology and doctrine of the Anglican Church; he just expressed that belief differently.

The Council that met in Nicaea provided us with a roadmap, a starting point for discussion. Unfortunately, it has become a litmus test for who is and who is not part of the club. So fine does this become that entire churches excommunicated the other over three words, “and the Son.” This is ridiculous.

As a Chaplain, I am part of a group of very diverse religious individuals who work together to further the mission. We share the essence of ministry with one another and serve a diverse population, but we are also individuals who practice our faith differently; for the most part, we respect those differences. My faith works for me, but that does not mean it will work for you.

Jesus prayed, “I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.”

Jesus prayed that the world would know that God loves them, and that is my prayer, and that is my ministry.

Amen.

Matthew 2:1-12

“On 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.”

There is an Italian legend of an old woman who travels the night sky on Epiphany Eve, bringing sweets and toys to the good children and coal to the bad ones. She is often depicted as a witch with a black scarf on her head, carrying a sack or a basket, and riding on a broom. The legend of La Bafana has an unknown origin but has meaning for us today.

Like most legends, hers has become complicated. There is a belief that she is of pre-Christian origin, but today, we will stick to how La Befana and the Wise Men come together.

La Befana is said to live in a mountain cave outside a city. One day, three strange men came to visit her. They were from a far-off land and were following a star searching for a child who had been born. They told her they had brought gifts for the child and asked if she knew where this child might be. La Befana was very busy cleaning, and she told them she did not know and ran them off.

Later, she regretted her decision and decided to find these men from the East. She packed gifts for the child, mounted her broom, and flew off searching for the visitors. She did not see them or the child they sought, but she had all these gifts. La Befana decided to stop off at other places with the children and leave the gifts for them.

Our Scripture lesson from Matthew, which we heard this morning, tells us what happened to these men from the East. They found what they were looking for and more.

We know very little about these men from the biblical account. Their story only appears in Matthew’s Gospel and is vague. Matthew calls them “wise men from the East” and never mentions their occupation or number. Traditional Western Christians set their number at three, corresponding to the number of gifts they bring. Still, Eastern Christianity, specifically the Syriac tradition, has 12, corresponding to the 12 days of Christmas.

They are essential to the story regardless of who or what they are.

We also do not know when they will arrive. Again, Matthew only says this event took place in the time of King Herod, roughly 72 BCE to 4 BCE. Some scholars believe the Wise Men came many years after the birth event and visited him in a house that was not stable. Scripture tells us that upon hearing the news of the child’s birth, Herod orders the slaughter of all male children under two years of age, which would point to the idea that this even took place up to two years after Jesus’ birth. Still, the exact time and place do not matter; they came, which is essential.

The research will suggest that these men did come from the East. By the 3rd century, they had been identified as Kings, which would conform with Christian interpretations of prophecies in the Hebrew Scriptures that Kings would worship the Messiah.

Matthew calls them Magos in Greek, from which we derive the Latin term Magi. Mago comes from Old Persian magus, which refers to the Iranian priestly class of Zoroastrianism. They were known for their ability to read the stars and gained an international reputation for astrology. By the way, the word Magi is where we get the English word Magic.

Again, there is no evidence that they were Kings, and the first English reference to such was the interpretation of the word “Magi” in the King James Bible, probably to lessen the idea that these men were astrologers. The Reformer John Calvin thought that these men were not kings and that the term was invented to sanitize the story and make it more acceptable in society.

Although Matthew does not provide their names, several legends give their names, as Melchior, Caspar, and Balthazar. The most notable of these legends come from an 8th-century Latin text and the apocryphal text, The Acts of Saint Thomas.

Matthew gives only the evidence of their place of origin from the “East,” but using the name Magi points to the Parthian Empire centered in Iran. This is an integral part of the story because the Parthian Empire was known for tolerating other religions and religious practices. It is also important to note that these men are usually depicted as being of various ages and races, which will become important later.

Matthew tells us that when they found Jesus, they entered the house and knelt down to worship him. This is where the practice of kneeling in worship comes from. Jewish worship, where most of our Christian practice comes from, did not include kneeling or prostrating; all those Christian practices came from the Magi worshipping Jesus. One might argue that kneeling in worship is as old as Christianity itself.

The gifts are significant as well. All three were ordinary, and the usual gifts were offered when one paid homage to a king. These men knew this child was not some ordinary child and brought the appropriate gifts.

These gifts also have spiritual significance: gold symbolizes earthly kingship, frankincense, in the form of incense, symbolizes deity, and myrrh, an oil used for anointing, symbolizes death. This is where we get another of our Christian traditions. Incense is used in worship, signifying our prayers being lifted to God, and myrrh is often an essential ingredient in the oil used for anointing the sick and other rituals.

In my message on Christmas Eve, I pointed out that all of creation was present at the birth of Jesus. Animals and shepherds were there to worship this tiny baby that would transform the world. The men from the East signify another aspect of it all, that the message of Christ was to transcend not only geography but also culture, time, place, race, and religion.

These men were on pilgrimage; they had searched the sky for a sign and found it. They were seekers like many of us are or have been. It is interesting to note that these men practiced a religion that the Christian Church would later condemn as witchcraft, yet they were among the first to not only pay homage but bring gifts and humble themselves by kneeling to worship. This may be why La Befana is often depicted as a witch.

Later in Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus preaches to a gathering of people on a hillside. This is often called the sermon on the mount, where the beatitudes come from. These beatitudes are central Christian teachings, and it is essential to note that people of multiple races, ages, genders, and even religions were on that hillside. Jerusalem was a crossroads for trade, and people from all over the world would come and pass through it. The message of Jesus is for everyone, not just those we think fit into a specific mold or way of life.

Each person present that night and in the days after was a seeker of a sort. Something drew them in and brought them to the place where they found Jesus. Many came with nothing, only an openness to what was possible, and others came with precious gifts. Regardless of what they brought, they all came and worshipped and, no doubt, left changed.

Everyone is invited to God’s party, even those who have been traveling radically different paths. Those who have made this journey many times in their lives are invited to take a new look at Jesus and his message of love and acceptance of all, not just some. It is important to remember Jesus’ saying, “The last shall be first, and the first will be last.”

It is important to remember that this was not an ordinary birth, and by that, I do not suggest anything to do with the supernatural circumstances of how they found themselves where they were. The birth story reminds us that the creator became part of creation to show us a different way to live. But it is also a story that invites everyone to come; whether you are a shepherd or king, young or old, astrologer or believer, there is a place for you at the table.

The story of the Magi reminds us that God initiates the call to come and find, to knock, and to seek. Our job is to come with an open mind to find a story that might challenge our traditional beliefs about many things. The Magi’s journey to seek the child exposes God’s intention to welcome everyone “into the joy of God’s hoe not made with hands, but eternal in the heavens” and, remarkably, on earth as well. Amen.