Carols of Christmas: We Three Kings of Orient Are A Sermon by Rev. Michael Scott The Dublin Community Church

December 29, 2013 Matthew 2:1-15

In 1857, the U.S. Supreme Court issued its infamous Dred Scott decision, and the Illinois lawyer and former Congressman, Abraham Lincoln, denounced it as part of a Democratic plot to empower slaveholders. Within a few months, a young bachelor who was working as editor of the Church Journal in New York City set to work on his usual Christmas gift to his nieces and nephews. He was a creative soul who had already at the age of thirty-seven become a “clergyman, author, journalist, book illustrator, and designer of stained glass windows and other ecclesiastical objects.”1 So this year, he decided to write a carol that his little nephews and nieces could use in their annual family Christmas pageant. In December, he headed off on the annual horseback journey from New York to his father’s home near Burlington, Vermont for the holidays. I wonder if he may have traveled through Dublin en route. If so, he would have passed right by this newly constructed meeting house. His name was John Henry Hopkins, Jr., and his father, John Henry Hopkins, Sr. was the Episcopal Bishop of Vermont. He presented his gift to the family, the words and music for a carol called Three Kings of Orient. The children were thrilled with uncle Henry’s song. It made their family pageant a huge smash. Before long the carol had made its way into surrounding churches, and was published by Hopkins in 1863 in his collection, Carols, Hymns, and Songs. The carol became so popular that Hopkins eventually was canonized in the popular culture as “Vermont’s Father Christmas,” a little inaccurate, because he never really lived in Vermont.

But his carol, We Three Kings of Orient Are, has been not only celebrated and adored, but roundly panned. In addition to grammatical and musical issues, it poses some curious theological problems. The trouble all started with an interpretive tradition that, to be fair, Hopkins only inherited. It grew, I suppose, out of the tendency of preachers and biblical interpreters to draw implications from the text in order to “flesh it out” a bit. Hence, since only three gifts of the “magi from the east” are mentioned, it soon became popular to assume that there were three magi. In fact, the Bible doesn’t say how many. And because the gifts are presumed to be very expensive and lavish, these three mysterious strangers were thought to be “kings.” Truth is, Matthew in his gospel uses the word “magi” which can mean something like magicians or astrologers. But the folklore has stuck, and the carol, We Three Kings, has etched it in stone. So every Christmas pageant in the land now has three children wearing crowns and bearing their gifts.

But I think that’s not so bad. Folks can really get carried away with trying to discern the true “facts” of the birth narrative. I’m reminded of those people who have spent inordinate amounts of time working to determine exactly what celestial object or event might have been ’s “star of wonder, star of light.” There have been some ingenious suggestions. A supernova is one such inspired guess (that’s a star that explodes and for a time appears much

1 Biographical information about Hopkins from: William E. Studwell, The Reader, Routledge, 1995 pp. 76-77. brighter to us). Another thought is Halley’s comet, but that came by in October of twelve B.C. which was too early for those who date the birth of Christ from year zero (or within a few years either way). For those with a bit more imagination (and perhaps some flexibility in dating ’s birth), a real clever idea is the conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn, which would have happened three times in seven B.C. Tom Wright, in his exposition of Matthew, asserts that “Since Jupiter was the ‘royal’ or kingly planet, and Saturn was sometimes thought to represent the Jews, the conclusion was obvious: a new king of the Jews was about to be born. . . . astronomers or astrologers . . . noticing strange events in the heavens, would search out their earthly counterparts.”2

For me, this is all a bit like trying to figure out how many angels can dance on the head of a pin. It doesn’t really matter; three kings is fine. And so is a wandering “star” coming to rest over a stable in Bethlehem. I’m not real big on trying to sharpen our historical perspective on a legend that is not history so much as theology. Matthew is offering here not a recounting of something to which he was an eyewitness, he is putting forth a highly subversive treatise. And that’s what I want to share with you today.

The first scandalous bit of subversion is the assertion that could not be lost on the ears of the revolutionary zealots of the time, or the principalities and powers of Jerusalem: that Jesus, not Herod, is the true king, worthy of royal gifts from foreign plenipotentiaries. Hopkins writes in his carol: “Born a King on Bethlehem’s plain, gold I bring to crown him again.” The main point is not the royal credentials of the magi, but of Jesus. This was treasonous talk in the days of Matthew’s writing. And that gospel tradition has endured. Still today those who follow the carpenter of Nazareth claim an allegiance beyond that of any monarch, any President, or any nation or constitution. The followers of Jesus always comprise a countercultural movement, always present a threat to the status quo, always stand for the unpopular truth of human connectedness in the face of human greed and isolation. And that stance always gets the principalities and powers a little nervous.

Matthew was also rattling everyone’s cage a bit when he portrayed these significant dignitaries coming to affirm the royalty of Mary’s baby as astrologer magicians from eastern foreign lands. Not only were they not Israelites, not only were they not “people of the Book,” they were not even part of any religion that would be recognized by Matthew’s readers. According to Matthew’s account, it was to these who would have been considered bizarre, alien, practitioners of some kind of silly hocus pocus that God sent a special sign – and sent it by means of their screwy astrological portents! Here’s the scandalous word that Matthew was proclaiming: Jesus was not simply “king of the Jews,” he was Lord of life, leader of humanity, exemplar to the nations. In his carol, Hopkins writes, “King forever, ceasing never, over us all to reign.” “Us all” written by a nineteenth century American Episcopal minister obviously does not mean just Israeli Jews, and does not mean just Americans. “All” is “all.” That message would also have rankled the authorities of the Jerusalem Sanhedrin. It is no less disturbing today. In a world of increasingly sharp divisions and bloody violence between religious groups it can sound like heresy to assert our common bond as people of God. Those who follow in the footsteps of Jesus follow a man whose very introduction to the world in gifts from alien visitors

2 Tom Wright, Matthew for Everyone, Part One, Chapters 1-15, Westminster John Knox Press, 2004, p. 9. gave the lie to our proclivity for dividing ourselves from one another through ideology.

And finally, Matthew’s subversion continues in his treatment of power. Herod is portrayed as a paranoid megalomaniac who would butcher every child in the region on the chance that one of them would rise up to take over the throne of Israel. But Matthew demonstrates that God’s weakness is greater than the strength of the powerful. The simple warning by these foreign agents to Joseph is enough to protect a little baby from the wrath of a psychotic despot and his army, and this little baby would indeed become even greater than a ruler in Israel, but one who would change the world forever. Matthew is making a statement about true power. That message is reflected in Hopkins’ carol also. He refers to “ . . . its bitter perfume” presaging the “stone-cold tomb.” That’s the story of earthly weakness and defeat. But the message of “alleluia, alleluia, sounds through the earth and skies,” declaring that the victory of God’s love, embodied in Christ is greater than any earthly power of death and defeat. We who take up the name of Christ celebrate the kind of power that looks to the rest of the world like weakness. It is the power of love that transcends and transforms the world’s anemic attempts to crush and subdue others through force. It is the power of forgiveness that breaks down the teetering walls erected by those imprisoned by fear and bent on retribution. It is the power of a generous heart that is indeed the antidote to fear, and the greatest gift one can give to oneself. Back when this carol was being conceived, that young lawyer, Abe Lincoln, spoke out against a decision that was supposed to be the “last word” on the matter of slavery by the highest court in the land. Guess who finally prevailed.

So John Henry Hopkins, Jr. wrote a carol for his little nieces and nephews and their family pageant. He took a lot of liberties with the scriptural record, but in the end, he got it right. “Three kings?” Maybe not. But souls today, over a hundred and fifty years later are still singing a prayer that a “star of wonder” would “guide us to its perfect light.” Pastoral Prayer

O God, we have emerged from another season of gifts and parties and excesses. We have wondered the malls with our shopping bags to the tune of Jingle Bells; we have trimmed our trees, opened our packages, filled our bellies; we have heard the children and the grandchildren shrieking with delight and wailing in conflict; we have thrown away the wrapping paper and swept up the pine needles. And now we come before you, seeking in this stillness your Spirit of truth. Did we miss you, O God? Was your message of peace drowned out by the carols? Did we lose you in a mountain of torn gift wrapping? Did we fail to see you for all the pretty lights? Remind us, we pray, of the simple truth of Bethlehem – your good tidings of great joy, your message of hope, and peace, and love for all the world. May we hear, may we acknowledge, and may we respond. We pray, O God, that in this coming year you will open our eyes and our ears to be attuned to the work of your Spirit. Let us not become so absorbed in righteous conflict that we forget your humble incarnation of peace. Let us not be so consumed by the trappings of our culture that we fail to acknowledge the universality of your boundless hope for all the world. Let us not be so drawn to the pursuit of our personal ambitions that we ignore the example of Christ’s self-sacrificing love. May Christ be born again in us every day of the year. It is in his name that we pray as he taught us: “Our father, who art in heaven . . .”