This is a strange time of the year. We have been summoned back to Bethlehem as we prepare to pack Christmas vacation into the attic. The gospel reading from Saint Matthew sounds like something we should have read on December 24. After all, we had three wise people front and center during our pop-up children’s pageant. Yet today is Epiphany Sunday, and the wise men, having traversed afar, finally arrived at the manger to pay homage to the infant messiah and present him with gifts. Guided by the light of a rising star, these visitors from the east are the first Gentiles to arrive at the manger. They are the first non-Jewish people to celebrate and recognize the messiah's birth.
We are entering the season of Epiphany, which lasts nine weeks and marks the revelation and manifestation of Jesus to the world.
A season of seeing God among us, of recognizing Jesus—Emmanuel—God with us, seeing Christ in the world, in our scripture, in our lives.
The prophet Isaiah had a vision about this moment:
For behold, the darkness shall cover the earth,
And deep darkness of the people;
But the Lord will arise over you,
And His glory will be seen upon you.
The Gentiles shall come to your light,
And kings to the brightness of your rising.
“Lift up your eyes all around, and see:
They all gather together, they come to you;
Your sons shall come from afar,
And your daughters shall be nursed at your side.[i]
Not only was the star's light visible to the shepherds in the fields, but the light of Christ signaled a new dawn to rulers and kings outside the covenant Israel clung to. While some grew pessimistic by the darkness of sin, the Lord reminded the faithful of the covenant between God and Abraham. The light of God’s restorative work has drawn in the nations.
Matthew tells us that the magi came to Judea to pay “homage” to the child who had been born king of the Jews. The act of paying homage – giving special honor or publicly displayed respect – is central to the magi’s travel and purpose. Homage is not a word we do not frequently use. Yet, homage is central to the paradox of Epiphany.
The magi’s homage at the manger begins a paradox that unfolds throughout Jesus’ life.
The magi came to pay homage to the king of the Jews who was lying in a borrowed barn, just as the soldiers at the foot of Christ’s cross will mockingly pay him homage. The soldiers will use the same title as the magi, but instead of presenting gifts for honoring a king, the soldiers will place a crown of thorns on his head. After Jesus takes his last breath, one of the soldiers will proclaim that, indeed, Christ is the Son of God. An act of homage.
These two moments—the manger and the cross—bookend the story of salvation. At the manger, we see the beginning of God’s mission: the King coming to dwell among us. At the cross, that mission reaches its climax: the King giving His life for the salvation of the world. In both, we see the paradox of glory revealed through humility and suffering.
The same King worshiped by the magi in the stillness of the night is the one mocked by soldiers in the shadow of the cross. And yet, in both instances, God’s grace is on full display. At the manger, grace shines in the light of the star, drawing all nations to worship. At the cross, grace flows in the words, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
In both moments, outsiders recognize the truth that insiders often miss: God's glory is not bound by human experiences of grandeur.
The arrival of the magi reminds us that when God told Abraham he would be “the ancestor of a multitude of nations,” God meant farther and wider than what those on the “inside” of the covenant could imagine. God’s covenant has expanded beyond Israel, drawing in all nations and people. This is the field-side proclamation made by the angel to the shepherds, “Good news of great joy for all people.”[ii]
The gift of the Incarnation redefines what it means to belong to God.
Every Sunday, we offer homage to Christ. You may not realize it, but whether we are singing the third verse of What Child is This or a more traditional doxology like Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow, we are embracing the paradox of our faith, the same paradox embraced by the magi at the manger:
God found in a baby king and not a mighty warrior.
Gifts delivered and received in a backyard barn rather than the grand receiving hall of a royal palace.
Salvation for the nations is found in a feeding trough, not through the works of religious professionals or Sunday morning faithful.
Each time we pay homage to Christ, we acknowledge and embrace the paradoxes of our faith. Approaching the manger, we know we do not have all the answers we wish we had. Our lives are still a mess, and we know sin still entangles us. Yet, we pay homage. We stop what we are doing and give honor and praise reserved for no one else.
Paying homage to someone is no small task. As we hand our whole selves over to Christ, it can feel like a quid pro quo. We can think that before we receive Christ, we must give or do something extraordinary. After all, we live across the river from the quid pro quo capital of the world. Some might tell you that you need to pray a certain prayer, never miss a Sunday worship service or give a certain percentage before taxes before you can truly pay homage and be received by Christ. The paradox that remains is that the need to do has been done by the One who was laid in the manger.
So, like the magi, in bringing ourselves – to include our doubts, fears, and failures – we can assume a posture of homage and embrace the paradox of this epiphany because the child in the manger, the messiah on the cross, the One who walked out of his borrowed grave has already welcomed you.
This is not an easy task. Before we offer praise, we want our questions answered, our brokenness fixed, and our doubts erased. Still, Christ invites us to come because God has made the first move toward us through the child in the manger.
And the paradox deepens.
As we worship, we find God's glory not in fixing everything broken in our lives but in grace, mercy, and love that meet us where we are. It is the same light drawing us in that Isaiah dreamed of, and the magi followed.
What we do today in worship, like the magi, is not an isolated act of homage. In word, song, and sacrament, we join the chorus of saints in a foretaste of the Kingdom of God. The bread and cup we share unite us in paying homage to Christ with the faithful across time and space, proclaiming that the light of God has broken into the darkness of our world. In the paradox of the manger, and the cross, we find a God who meets us in our brokenness and leads us into the light of grace.
[i] Isaiah 60:2-4, NKJV
[ii] Luke 2:10
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