Sermon: The Journey of the Wise

Text: Matthew 2:1-12

Date: January 6, 2008

Rev. Dee Eisenhauer, EagleHarbor Congregational Church

            There is something about the journey of the Magi that has captured the imagination of people of faith for countless generations.  You saw in the art works that Brett gathered up that artists have been fascinated by these mysterious figures from the East that travel to see the Christ Child.   Writers, too, have penned hundreds of tales that explore their back stories.  Musicians have written many songs about them, and of course no Christmas pageant would be complete without the wise men and/or wise women dressed in the very best of the motley costumes, crowned and carrying their gifts.

            All this points to a very powerful meta-story or metaphor at work.  At least one.  I think one thing that continues to intrigue us humans is the notion of a journey in search of the Truth.    The image of a journey, quest, or pilgrimage is in all the wisdom traditions.  In one Eastern religion, the Tao, a monk asks the master, “What is the Tao?” [the Tao being the way of ultimate reality, the ground of all being].  Master Unmon replies, “Walk on.”  It is important in many traditions that a seeker keep moving.  Confucius says, “It does not matter how slowly you go, as long as you do not stop.”  This journeying is woven into Jewish and Christian traditions as well.  You probably know that the Jesus tradition is summed up in some Christian writings simply as “The Way.” 

            Given the ubiquity of journey imagery in faith traditions, it is very fitting that there should be a journey story at the very beginning of Jesus’ story.  There really isn’t much to Matthew’s story of the magi before they arrive in Jerusalem.  It’s covered in two sentences: In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem, wise men from the east came to Jerusalem (that’s the whole description of the journey), asking, “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 (that’s the whole reason for the journey).  There is tons of speculation about the wise men, the astrologers who made the journey, but it’s all speculation.  There is also plenty of speculation about the nature of the astrological event that set them on the road—comets, alignment of planets, new stars being born, and so forth, but that, too, is all speculation.  You can entertain yourself for an afternoon by Googling around on the internet, reading different theories.

            I’m not as interested in the astrological phenomena as I am in the character of the astrologers who would leave the comfort of their homes in the East and set out on an epic journey in search of a baby that promised to change the world.  We know next to nothing about them, but we presume that they were people of some means based on the gifts that they brought, and people of some education because Astrology was a very respected scholarly profession in those days.  So let’s suppose that these Magi had it made in the shade back at home.  They had plenty of money and high status.  They could have stayed home, thoughtfully stroking their beards as they taught Astrology 101 to adoring students.  After school hours, let us imagine them going out to the homes of the wealthy for fine food and wine because they were always on the A list of invitations for gatherings of the influential.  They had access to all the libraries and they loved to read and study.  Why in the world would they leave all that to saddle up a camel and trek across the desert in search of who knows who?   

            Why?  Because they were wise.  Because they knew that there is more to life than an interesting profession and material comforts.  More to life than a pleasant circle of friends and a snug house.  More to life, even, than a happy, well-adjusted family.   They were wise people in search of truth.  It was a longing to know the mystery and meaning of life that kept their eyes on the stars in the first place, searching for understanding of what made the universe tick.  They may have been happily settled in their lives but they were wise enough to leave the door open to mystery, meaning, and adventure.  They are an archetype of the people God calls each of us to be—people who are not so settled that they wouldn’t go on a new road in search of truth when called by stars or angels or dreams to do so. 

            I’d like to be a wise person, a person who is trying with all her might and insight to be attentive to the new things God is bringing into the world.  I’d like to be the sort of wise person who perceives the star that God sends to lead and sets off to who-knows-where to follow the Light.  I have to admit, however, that I may not be as open to leave what I know in a new search for truth as the Magi seemed to be.  I have discovered that there is a set of stories rolling around the world that mirrors the more spiritually cautious person’s journey.  There are stories that were added by human culture to the story of the journeying Magi, and quite a few of them are there to instruct those who weren’t immediately ready to journey in search of truth when they were called.  

            One of the most famous is the story of Babushka.  Do you know this story?  Here is the version told by Roman Catholic priest Andrew Greeley:

Once upon a time there lived in Bethlehem a woman named Babushka. She kept the cleanest and neatest house in town and was also the best cook. She heard rumors of three kings coming across the desert but paid no attention to them because she had so much work to do. Then she heard the sounds of drums and pipes and a cavalcade of riders. She looked out the window and there were three richly dressed kings coming towards her house. They told her that they had come to honor the little prince who had been born in Bethlehem and they needed food and lodging. Babushka cooked a wonderful meal for them, remade all the beds, and wore herself out. The next morning the kings begged her to come with them so she too might see the little prince. Babushka said she would follow after them as soon as she finished the dishes. She cleaned the house again and then took out of a cabinet the toys of her own little prince who had died so long ago. She had no more need of them and would give them to the new little prince. She put them in a basket and sat down for a moment's rest before she followed the wise men.

  Hours later she woke up, grabbed the basket, and rushed into town. But the kings were gone and so was the little prince and his parents. Ever after, it is said, Babushka has followed after them. Whenever she finds a new born babe, she looks to see if he is the little prince. Even if he is not there, Babushka leaves a toy for the child.

            Babushka still leaves toys for children in some countries, just like Santa Claus.  I found that when I was looking around for stories about Babushka that there were several variations on her story.  In one version, she is kind of  mean.  Not only does she not host the Magi at her house, she knowingly gives them the wrong directions to the stable where they might find the Christ child.  Later on, she feels bad about it and she repents.  She goes after them to apologize but everyone has left—the wise men to go back home and the Holy Family to run to Egypt for refuge from Herod’s murderous rage.  So in that story her search is a kind of lifelong penance.   Not a very happy ending.

            In some versions the story is open ended.  Babushka “continues  her search year after year, for time means nothing in the search for the real…She can still be seen in villages at Christmas time, looking for the Christ child.  ‘Is he here?  Is he here?’”[1]

            In some versions there is a happy ending.  Like this one: Babushka “looks for the Child for the rest of her life, joining all wanderers that have ever lived.  And in her endless journey, she finds children, finds them everywhere.  She finds many a manger.  She finds many a cradle.  She finds many a mother nursing her baby.  She leaves gifts at each place hoping that it is the Christ Child.  She is now very old and near death.  As she lies dying, the Christ Child appears to her wearing the face of every child she has ever touched and offered gifts to.  She dies happily knowing that, in spite of her first hesitancy, she did indeed find the Child, not in the manger where she expected him, but in the poor and needy where she never expected him.”[2]

            I like the Babushka stories.  They are an excellent sequel to the biblical story of the Magi.  The story leaves room in the spiritual journey for someone like me.  I can see myself in the distracted Babushka, letting my busyness hinder a search for truth.  As Andrew Greely suggests, we can learn from Babushka “not to let the important interfere with the essential.”  I see myself in the mean-spirited and inhospitable Babushka who has misguided journeyers who need help, and see myself in the repentant Babushka who sets out to make things right.  I see myself in the Babushka who leaves on the journey a day late but still tries hard.  I see myself in the Babushka who is not sure if she is finding what she is so sincerely seeking.   I see myself in the Babushka who finds Christ accidentally in acts of mercy and generosity.  Perhaps you see yourself in her journey as well.

            Whether you leave wisely and on time at the summoning of the Almighty like the Magi did, or leave on the journey a little late and find it going on longer than you’d wish, it is time to seek the Christ in your way, on your own path.  There are probably more Babushkas batting around than Wise Ones, but the journey calls to all of us.  An Indian philosopher once wrote, “The spiritual journey is one of continuously falling on your face, getting up, brushing yourself off, looking sheepishly at God and taking another step.”  Take another step.  The light of Christ beckons. 

[1] Wright, Wendy The Vigil  Nashville: Upper Room Books, 1992, p. 167

[2] Bausch, William J.  A World of Stories for Preachers and Teachers Mystic, CT: Twenty-Third Publications, 1999, p. 336