Magi-cal Mystery

[This message was delivered at Ogden Presbyterian Church on January 4, 2026, Epiphany Sunday, based on Matthew 2:1-12.]

This may hurt you: no star appeared over the manger. This may sting your ears: the shepherds and magi didn’t race to see who would get to the manger first. They never met each other. The journey of the magi happened later, as late as two years later.  Christmas pageants conflate Luke 1-2 and Matthew 1-2, but scripture doesn’t. If we were biblically honest, we might have pageant 1.0, based on Luke 1-2 and pageant 2.0 based on Matthew 1-2. Or we would have one pageant in two acts with a long intermission between the two. Today, the Sunday just before Epiphany, January 6, we look at version 2.0. It is thrilling and dramatic—and a bit scary. For this pageant, we need the players, the props, and some key words.

The Players

• Herod. Frightened. Paranoid. Power thirsty. My wife and I have about 30 nativity sets, from all over the world, some large and some small. Not one has Herod. We need to remember Herod, who reminds us of the dark side of Christmas, and the danger of unrestrained hunger for power.
• The Magi. They are not called kings and they are not numbered as three. They are thought to be astrologers-astronomers, scientists, and perhaps pagan priests. They certainly are adventurers. Matthew doesn’t mention camels, but Isaiah does and who doesn’t love camels? They probably hail from ancient Persia, modern day Iran, probably at least 300 miles from Bethlehem. They are outsiders to Israel. They are mysterious.
• Chief priests and scribes. They are called by Herod and they know scripture, but are clueless as to its to meaning. There is no indication that they made the trek of just five miles to Bethlehem. They are content to quote scripture and do nothing about it. (Yes, I see parallels to that in the Church today.)
• Mary & silent Joe. They welcome strangers. They welcome foreigners. They welcome pagans shrouded in majesty and mystery. Not only did they say, Yes, individually, to the God’s angelic messengers; they say Yes together to these strange visitors.
• The child Jesus. Matthew does not use the word baby, but only the word child. Jesus is a toddler at this point and is content to say nothing and wait for the gifts.

The Props

• A star. A big, hairy celestial light. The Magi are star gazers and adventurers. They couldn’t let this star go unnoticed or unfollowed.
• A house. Matthew 2 does not mention an inn, a stable, a cave, or a manger. It has Mary, Joseph, and Jesus in a house. Are they renting it, perhaps an Airbnb, or did someone of means take pity on these poor people from up north and let them use the guest house?
• Strange gifts. Oh, such strange gifts for a young child. I suppose there is something practical about the gold; it would grow in value. But the other two seem to speak of impending death. Both Luke 2 (see Simeon’s words to Mary in the temple) and Matthew 2 more than hint at what is coming. Verses 4-5 of “We

Three Kings of Orient Are” catch it well. That carol should always be sung this Sunday.)

Key words:

• Worship. The NRSV uses “homage,” which I find insufficient. There are about a handful of words in the New Testament that are translated worship. This is the richest one. It literally means “to kiss forward,” to go face down in the presence of deity. It is a lavish picture or full-bodied worship—something Presbyterians are usually not very excited about.
• Mega-joy. That is the literal translation of “overwhelmed with joy” (Matthew 2:10). While joy is steady state for followers of Jesus, there are moments, perhaps not all that common, that can only be described as mega-joy moments. When the star leading them stopped over this humble abode, they were mega-joyed. Finally the long journey is over. Whom will we find in that house?
• Yes. That word doesn’t actually appear on these narratives, but it is clearly there. Mary said yes when stunned by an angelic message. Joseph said yes, or at least he mouthed the word, when the angel spoke so unexpectedly to him. And now Mary and silent Joe say to yes to the mysterious magi from the east.

There we have it. Christmas pageant 2.0. Epiphany. Months unfolding, hundreds of miles covered, hopes and fears abounding: our star child is born and soon enough learning to walk and talk. Lights, sets, action. As John so eloquently puts it: “The light is shining in the darkness, and the darkness is utterly powerless to extinguish it.” (My translation.)

This Sunday, I always turn to a poem written about this time of year by Howard Thurman, in 1948, when I was a toddler.

 “When the song of the angels is stilled,

       when the star in the sky is gone, 
        when the kings and princes are home, 
           when the shepherds are back with their flocks,

the work of Christmas begins:

 to find the lost, 
   to heal the broken, 
     to feed the hungry, 
       to release the prisoner, 
         to rebuild the nations, 
           to bring peace among the people,

             to make music in the heart.” 

About five years later, Dag Hammarskjold would write, also this time of year, in his memoir called “Markings”:

“For all that has been, Thanks. To all that is to come, Yes.”

Thanks. Yes. YES. YES!

“For all that has been, Thanks.  For all that is to come, Yes!” 
―