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While Luke places the announcement of the birth of Jesus in the hills around Bethlehem with the lowly shepherds, Matthew brings in the wise men from the east. It works pretty well both thematically and as foreshadowing. Matthew ends with “the great commissioning” telling the disciples go “go and make disciples of all nations.” The premise here is that the those with authority within the religious structure misread what is going on in their midst, and yet those who are paying attention – even those from outside of Judaism – are able to see. Jesus’s life was more expansive than anyone could have dreamed, and Matthew sets up this truth from the very beginning.

The magi also play an interesting role in engaging with the political power of the day – dropping by on King Herod and raising his fears about remaining “the king of the Jews.” In Matthew, this is the title under which Jesus is crucified. The words of the magi are terrifying to King Herod. They represent his worst fears, even the rumor of such a thing as what they are saying – that a new King of the Jews has been born – could end his rule. Herod plays it wisely, seeking ever more information, and inviting the magi back to tell him what they have found.

The magi “having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod,” go home to “their own country by another road.” All week I’ve been hearing the Robert Frost poem “The Road Not Taken in my head.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

I first came to know Frost’s poem when I was a teenager at Sky Lake’s music camp and we sang Randall Thomas’ arrangement of it. The words were engraved in my mind at that point, and the beauty of the music and the words have stayed with me. Scholars debate about whether or not Frost’s poem is satirical, and I recognize that it may well be satire, or at least partially self-effacing. The last stanza, starting with “I shall be telling this with a sigh” seems a bit overdramatic not to have SOME irony in it. Yet it also contains some deep truths.

This week, considering the journey home of the magi, their journey kept being informed by “The Road Not Taken.” What would have happened if they had gone back by the same road? How were their lives, and the lives of those around them, changed by their choice to change course? I guess, even more than that, it occurs to me that to take the story seriously to ask how their lives were impacted by their earlier choice to “follow the star.” Their entire journey was “The Road Less Traveled.” They left their country, their homes, their language and customs in order to follow a hunch. Theirs was a unique journey.

The text says that they were overwhelmed with joy when they saw that the star had stopped. It implies that the joy was related to actually getting to see the new-born king of the Jews. The experience seems to have mattered to the magi. While we don’t know much about them, we have heard that they are course-changers. They were willing to travel to follow a hunch, and they were willing to change course on the way home based on another one.

I find myself wondering what happened AFTER this story in their lives. Symbolically, their presence in the Gospel is powerful. They stand in for the importance of Jesus, they foreshadows the breadth of the meaning of his life, they condemn both the political and the religious power structures of the day. But what about THEM?

Now, I’d say that “we don’t know” because the story doesn’t tell us, but even that isn’t entirely true. I think the story of the magi is unlikely to be based in historical fact. However, as John Dominic Crossan is often saying, “Emmaus never happened, Emmaus always happens.” So, let’s go with that. “The Magi never came, the Magi are always arriving AND departing.”

I guess my question, at its core, is: What would it have mattered to magi from the east to see a baby with his mother somewhere in Judea or Galilee? This is, to be frank, not a particularly unusual sight. Most of societies through most of history can offer an opportunity to see a mother with her child. Would it have been special because of the expectations around it? Are we meant to believe it was special because of the parties involved? If so, how would a 18 month old Jesus be different from another 18 month out? (I’m making up months here, we have no idea how long the travel took, but historically it is believed to be more than a year and less than two.)

Actually, I really love that question! What would we expect from a toddling baby who would as a man utter some of the great wisdom of the world? Would he be particularly gregarious? Or rather shy? Would he be absorbing all the information coming at him, or would he be a little bit sleepy at that point in the day? Would he be cranky? Sometimes 18 month olds are cranky. Would he be wandering around, putting everything in sight in his mouth? Would that include the gold, frankincense and myrrh? If we want to think of Jesus as the most perfect human ever to be (and if I had to guess, I’d guess some of you do and some of you don’t), what would that look like in an 18 month old? And furthermore, what does that tell us about what we believe perfection looks like and what we’re trying to be???

These magi met a baby and his mother in some nondescript location. And, for the sake of the story, let’s say that it was an amazing and miraculous experience. I mean, I feel that way about babies EVERY SINGLE TIME, so I can guess that if someone was looking for a miracle and hanging out with a baby, they could leave with the impression they’d had one.

Then what? Were the magi people who tended to travel around the world looking for curious experiences and new wonders? If so, how did they manage to have such expensive gifts to offer? If not, what drew them that time? I think it makes more sense to assume that this was an unusual experience for them. What would their lives have been like afterward? Unlike the disciples, or even the would-be disciples we hear about later in the Gospels who had the chance to talk with Jesus, hear his teachings, experience his healing, and turn around their lives, the magi met a babbling baby.

Did they go home from their journey west and start seeking out the stories of the Jewish people and reading up about their messianic expectations? Did they go home still overwhelmed with joy and wonder, and ponder these things in their hearts like Luke tells us Mary did? Did they go home and eventually forget?

Was it hard to get home after a journey like that, where everything changed, and find that home was still very much the same? Sometimes in the church we talk about mountaintop experiences, moments like the transfiguration where there is clarity and wonder and connection all at once. At the end of the transfiguration, the disciples go back down the mountain. At the end of this time with Jesus, the magi go home.

Coming down from mountaintop experiences for me is usually quiet and sad. Instead of being continually lifted up by the highs I’ve experienced, coming back down after them is jarring and often painful. A friend this year had “post-wedding depression.” All of the hopes and dreams she had, and all of the work she’d gone through (and all of the Pinterest projects she’d completed) gave her life focus and meaning. The day itself was amazing! Everything came into place, everyone was together, and the party went on and on. Even the next day there was brunch and laughter. But after that, there was packing the car, and going home, and unpacking the car and figuring out what to eat for dinner. (The honeymoon did not immediately follow the wedding.)

And it was hard. Her descriptions of the lostness that came after the wedding had such resonance in my life. After intense focus on a project, or after an experience that I’ve been looking forward to for a while, or – let’s be real here – after I finish a book I really really like, I wander around a little bit lost for a while, not quite able to figure out what way to turn or what I’m really wanting to DO next.

If they magi existed, and if they followed an errant star, and if they came to Bethlehem and met Mary and Jesus, and if they were filled with joy and wonder, and warned in a dream to go home by another route – then what happened when they got home? Was it a bit anticlimactic after the journey? Was it a tiny bit boring? What were they going to do NEXT? Did they find themselves wishing they’d gone back to Herod just for the excitement of finding out what would have happened? Did they wander again, following another hunch, soon thereafter, in hopes of finding something meaningful again?

I think perhaps the ebbs and flows of life are meant to include some aimlessness, some post-project depression, some sadness when something is complete and intense focus dissipates. It feels natural. Life isn’t a really really long marathon! There are down times, and in those we are subconsciously deciding on the next course we’ll follow. We don’t thrive with constant intensity (although some of us seek it anyway!) As humans we do best when something REALLY draws us in – and then lets us go so that something else can. We need the thrill of the intensity and the let-down that comes afterward.

Two roads diverge often. We end up at crossroad’s well never get to come back to, regularly. May we be wise enough to stand in them from time to time, even in melancholy, and consider the next stages of our journey. Perhaps we’ll decide to follow another road.

Perhaps it will make a difference. And if not, at least the moment of looking and wondering will serve to steady us on the roads we choose and give us a chance to listen to the whisperings of the Divine. Thanks be to God for that. Amen

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Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady

January 3, 2016