"Jesus's Very True Sermon"

 “Jesus’s Very True Sermon”

Matthew 5:1-20

Jan. 29, 2023

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Earlier this week I had an opportunity to attend the College of Arts & Sciences Teach In that’s a part of the annual Martin Luther King, Jr. observance at K-State each year. One of the talks I attended was given by our friend Nate McClendon, in his role as the museum specialist for the Beach Museum of Art. Nate’s talk was called “what you see is what you get” and was a delightful exploration of one of our human superpowers: noticing other people and learning more about who they are when we take time to observe them carefully. When we take the time to truly see one another and get to know each other, it brings Dr. King’s dream of the Beloved Community so much closer to reality. 

Nate began his presentation by playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” on saxophone. Now, if you’ve heard Nate play, you know this is always a treat, but the music was just the beginning. After we listened to him play this short song, he told us this music was his way of introducing himself to us. He wanted to know what we thought we had learned about him from watching and listening. 

Now, I didn’t raise my hand because I already have the honor of knowing Nate, so I didn’t want to spoil the thought experiment. But I was fascinated when I heard other people share their observations because they were spot on. As each person made guesses about Nate, he reflected their statements back to them to make sure he understood and then asked, “What did you observe that led to that conclusion?” I was floored at how good everyone was guessing. 

As Nate continued on, he shared that there were, of course, some things we hadn’t been able to guess about him from his musical introduction. But a lot of what we guessed was right. Perhaps we humans really do have a superpower when it comes to learning about one another, when we take the time to do so with great intention and care. 

Nate said that we humans are essentially doing this all the time, everywhere we go. We see people and then go through our mental files, sorting and comparing and making guesses. Sometimes we get it right and sometimes we are way off, of course. A lot of pain in this world gets caused when our judgments are clouded by stereotypes and misperceptions and the evil of systems like white supremacy and misogyny. This is why it’s so important to take the time to actually get to know one another - spending time together and seeing the face of Christ in each other - not just jump to conclusions.

As he was teaching us, Nate said something else that I found particularly interesting: one of the OTHER things we humans do ALL the time is wonder, “what is everyone else thinking about ME?”

When we raise our hand in class and offer an answer, “Will they think I’m smart?” When we initiate small talk at a party, “Does this person think I’m interesting?” When we go to the gym, “Did that person notice how much I’m lifting?”

The thing is, I think most people at the gym don’t notice other people at the gym at all because we’re all so busy spending our emotional energy wondering what everyone else thinks about us! 

This is kind of a freeing realization, isn’t it? 

But even better than that realization is the good news that comes to us in the 5th chapter of Matthew’s gospel today. Jesus’s sermon is full of blessings, of course, that’s why it’s called the beatitudes. But there's so much more here beyond those familiar needlepoint verses. 

In today’s passage, Jesus has gathered a crowd around him. At first, it’s just his nearest and dearest, the disciples. But by the time the sermon ends, several chapters later, we are told that there are crowds. He begins with those well-known words: “Blessed are the poor in spirit...blessed are those who mourn….blessed are the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart….the peacemakers.”

Blessed, blessed, blessed - echoes the refrain. 

Now the word “blessed” here is not as simple as it first appears. We don’t really have a word in English that quite captures the Greek. That’s why some versions of this text say “blessed” and others say “happy are…” It’s not quite either. Instead it’s more like “those who are blessed by God have the emotion of being happy because of that blessing.” [1] Which is a mouthful. 

But I think the distinction matters. Because the feeling of happiness, satisfaction, delight comes from the knowledge that we are blessed. That we are beloved by God. That we belong. That we are worthy. 

And this blessing is for all people, but Jesus especially lifts up here that it is for those who might not be valued by society. It is for those who may not know their worth. You are blessed, he says. 

Jesus knows that one of the things we absolutely need is a sense of being blessed. That sense of worth is not the same as feeling like we are smart, or funny, or good at our jobs, or wealthy, or healthy. Our worth is separate from those things - even though we mostly seem to spend our whole lives being told otherwise. 

We are all conditioned from an early age to strive for the best version of ourselves. To be smarter. To work harder. To be more successful. To look a certain way. Act a certain way. To take up less space...or more space. To be quieter...or use our voices more. The list of things we are supposed to be goes on and on and on. 

We spend hours, weeks, years of our lives wishing we were different, better. And this obsession with being better affects not only ourselves but everyone around us. Sometimes our sense of not-enough-ness causes us to act with hatred towards other people. Sometimes our sense of lack causes us to do the opposite. We become obsessed with helping others, caring for others…..because it’s often easier than doing the excruciating work of learning to love ourselves. 

But Jesus offers an alternative narrative. Jesus speaks to those gathered about their worth. After reminding them that they are blessed, he spins for them a short love story: Salt. Light. You are these things, he says. 

“You are the salt of the earth,” he says. Salt is something most of us probably take for granted. For much of world history, salt was such a valuable commodity that trade routes were established because of it. Wars were fought over it. What we now grab at the grocery store casually had to be mined, distilled, or evaporated in a laborious process. 

Then, as now, salt was incredibly useful. Just think of all the ways we use salt: flavoring food, of course, but also preserving food (mmmmm….saurkraut, pickles). Salt is important when we want to make homemade ice cream, but also handy for melting ice on the sidewalk. Salt is a requirement for good nutrition and it can also be used to soothe the spirit by helping us float in water or making a delightful body scrub. When my kids were younger we kept a lot of salt on hand for making big batches of play doh. And salt heals. Grandmas and doctors alike know that gargling with warm salt water is good for a sore throat. 

Salt truly is a wonder. Salt is ubiquitous AND precious. Salt is necessary for life. And Jesus says, “You are the salt of the earth.” 

You, living as who God created you to be, are a healing gift to a world that desperately needs healing. 

You. You are precious. You are important. You are necessary for life. You are salt. Just like light - salt doesn’t solely exist for itself. It exists to be of service to the world around it. Jesus reminds us, just as salt is desperately needed, YOU are desperately needed. The world needs you - your voice, your care, your commitment, your passion. 

And Jesus also speaks of light. Jesus says we are light to the world. Can you imagine with me for a minute what it was like to live in a time before artificial lighting? These days,  the sun goes down around 6:00pm and we, unthinkingly, flip on the lights. But if we lived in the time of Jesus we would have to work much harder. If we wanted to see our families’ faces over the dinner table, we would have to create light. If we wanted to do something at home - reading, making music, washing the dishes, we would have to create light. If we wanted to go outside to care for the animals or visit a neighbor - again, we would have to create light to see where we were going.

So when Jesus says “you are the light of the world.” That’s what he means. You, my friends, are that element that makes the invisible visible. You create a sense of safety and security, bring warmth on a cold night, illuminate possibilities. You are the light of the world. 

You. You are. You are the light of the world. 

In the words of the poet nayyirah waheed:

you are a sea of light.

open your eyes.

see yourself. [2]

Pausing to acknowledge that you are that simple, amazing, elementally-good thing - a “sea of light” - is not about being proud or puffed up. It is to acknowledge that you have worth simply because of who you are AND that your goodness is a gift to the world around you. Light doesn’t exist for itself. Light exists to be shared. You exist to be blessed AND be a blessing. That’s why the song says “This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine…”

The world will keep telling us we’re not enough. And the world may also tell us we are too much - more than others can handle. We will be told that our worth is dependent on our beauty, our smarts, our competence, our success, our checkbooks, our abilities, our health. That’s how things are sold. That’s how money is made. 

But Jesus speaks truth from a deeper place of knowing. You are salt, he says. You are light. And when we start to tell ourselves THIS story, everything shifts. Because we start to find that we not only hear the invitation to believe in our own worthiness, but everyone else’s too. We start to see beacons of light everywhere. We come to appreciate the unique flavor of each person we encounter. With Christ’s help, we stand a fighting chance of learning how to love one another - every single other. 

Nate said, “what you see is what you get” and it occurs to me that, so often, when we see good in others, that’s what we get. When we see salt and light, we are delighted by flavor and clarity and blessedness over and over again. 

What an invitation. What a blessing. 

SOURCES:

[1] BibleWorm podcast 

[2] salt by nayyirah waheed

“Voices in the Wilderness”

January 15, 2023 - MLK Weekend

Matthew 3:1-17

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

This week as I was listening to my favorite Bible podcast (yes, preachers have those) my heart was warmed by a story that Dr. Amy Robertson shared about a recent experience she had. Dr. Robertson is a Jewish biblical scholar and the director of lifelong learning at Congregation Or Hadash in Georgia. Amy shared that the rabbi at their synagogue is preparing to give birth any day now and she wanted to help provide some closure for the kids in their congregation since the rabbi will be on parental leave. She didn’t want any of the younger ones, especially, to feel confused or abandoned when their rabbi disappeared for a time.

So she decided they could provide a blessing for their rabbi. She thought it would be sweet and get the job done. She led the kids as they gathered around their rabbi, extended hands in blessing, and prayed for her upcoming birth. Amy found herself surprised that this experience, which she initially thought would just be cute and fun, turned into a powerful and deeply moving experience. Watching these young kids bless their adult religious leader was a reminder for her in all the ways religious power and authority defies the norms of our world. It doesn’t just flow one way or from top to bottom, as we often think of power. Instead Robertson says religious power and authority is much more circular and surprising. Watching the kids that morning reminded her of this reality in a visceral way. [1] 

Jesus’s baptism by his cousin John is a lot like those young kids blessing their rabbi as she prepares to give birth, isn’t it? For centuries people have wondered what to do with the fact that 1) he asked his cousin John to provide the blessing and 2) Jesus was baptized for the remission of sins.

Let’s dive in, shall we?

You may remember John from the season of Advent. We met him when he was still Elizabeth’s womb. She and Mary shared a special bond, pregnant at the same time. Elizabeth was the first person Mary told about the angel’s strange annunciation. The baby in her womb, John, leapt for joy at the sound of Mary’s voice. Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and immediately recognized Mary as the mother-to-be of Jesus. She pondered how it could be possible that “the mother of my Lord” would come to her asking for a blessing. There’s that power flowing in circular spirals again. 

Filled with the Holy Spirit, John’s mother, Elizabeth, bore witness to Mary’s powerful song of a topsy-turvey upside down world, the Magnificat: 

“My soul proclaims your greatness, O God, and my spirit rejoices in you, my Savior….

You have shown strength with your arm;

you have scattered the proud in their conceit; 

you have deposed the mighty from their thrones and raised the lowly to high places. 

You have filled the hungry with good things, while you have sent the rich away empty.” [2] 

The not-yet-born John may have jumped at the sound of Mary’s voice, but he clearly wasn’t able to understand her words yet because when Jesus comes to him asking to be baptized, John is shocked - just as his mother was shocked that Mary came seeking her blessing. When Jesus asks for John’s blessing he says, “I need to be baptized by YOU and you come to ME?”

Jesus says, “Yes, YOU need to baptize ME. This is the way we live how God wants us to live.”

That call to the way of righteousness has echoes of the very beginning of today’s story when John is crying out in the wilderness, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near!”

That “repent” word can give some of us the squirmies. If you grew up in a religious tradition where you were regularly told to repent or risk the fires of hell, it’s probably not your favorite word. If you grew up with an understanding of sin as “failures that separate us from God’s love,” you’ve probably got some baggage here. And if you grew up with what I like to call “gumball machine theology” - you say some magic words of repentance like, “Jesus, I accept you as my Lord and Savior” and then everything is perfect - the idea of repentance might be a little confusing. 

In case repent gives you the squirmies, let me suggest another word instead. A couple, actually. Replace it with metanoeo (the Greek) or shuv (the Hebrew). They both mean “turn around.” Make an intentional decision to go in a different direction. They carry with them the sense that there’s a pathway we should be on and if we discover we’re off it, we simply adjust our course and get back on the right path. 

Dr. Amy Robertson, the Jewish scholar who helped the kids in her congregation bless their rabbi, says that it’s important to remember that the Hebrew word shuv, which means turn around, doesn’t carry with it a lot of the baggage we Christians have heaped on over the centuries. Turning around doesn’t mean we’ve fallen off the wagon in any kind of shameful way. It’s not “wandering astray” with connotations of moral failing. Turning around like this is just a recalibration that needs to happen from time to time. On a long journey - like, you know, LIFE - it’s only natural to sometimes discover we need to course correct. The important thing is noticing and then acting.

When we think of repentance this way, it starts to seem less weird that Jesus answers the call. We know that Jewish folks like Jesus and John would have already been familiar with this ritual. It’s not something John invented. There were two primary ways people in Jesus’s time would have already understood baptism: first, as a way of cleansing oneself after some kind of ritual impurity, and second, as a way of marking conversion to the Jewish faith. 

And what is conversion if not changing course, metanoeo-ing, turning, shuv-ing? This physical reminder of changing course doesn’t even have to be converting to a different religion. It might simply signify a decision to dive more deeply into one’s current faith, or a recommitment to a particular way of living. 

It seems to me this is one faithful way of understanding why Jesus answered John’s call to shuv. He was grown. Ready to begin his public ministry. Beginning the next stage of his journey as a beloved child of God. 

John was calling on others to shuv because the “kingdom of heaven” had come near. We typically use the phrases “kingdom of heaven” and “kingdom of God,” interchangeably. I usually like to say “realm of God” as a more gender-expansive option. What all of these phrases have in common is the Greek basileia,, which means empire.. The land Jesus and John lived in with the basileia ton rhōmaios, the empire of Rome. This was a phrase everyone knew. And so to call it the empire of God or empire of heaven instead of the empire of Rome was to make a pointed political statement. 

The empire of heaven was at hand, John said. And Jesus stepped right up and said, “Here I am. I’m ready to recommit myself to living in God’s realm. I want to participate in a ritual act that reminds me and everyone else that this is a hinge moment. I’m making a conscious decision to turn myself relentlessly towards this path of justice. My goal is to bring God’s way of living to earth. To remind people that we live in the empire of God, not the empire of Caesar.” 

No wonder Jesus said to his cousin, “YOU need to baptize ME in order to fulfill all righteousness.” In the basileia of God, power and authority isn’t top-down. Instead, power and authority in God's realm is free flowing, surprising. The kingdom of God looks like a bunch of little kids gathered around their pregnant rabbi offering her a blessing. The kingdom of God looks like a young girl named Mary receiving an invitation from an angel to bear God to the world. The kingdom of God looks like a woman named Elizabeth opening her arms and blessing her cousin when she comes with an impossible story. The kingdom of God looks like a wild-eyed Jewish preacher named John baptizing the Messiah in the wilderness. 

And the kingdom of God looks like Claudette Colvin, age 15; Mary Louise Smith, age 18; Aurelia Browder, age 36; Rosa Parks, age 42; Susie McDonald, in her 70s, and others whose names have been lost - refusing to give up their seats on segregated buses in Montgomery. The kingdom of God looks like professor Jo Ann Robinson, age 43, staying up all night to photocopy 35,000 flyers to initiate the bus boycott. And the kingdom of God looks like a 26-year-old preacher fresh out of grad school and new to town, showing up at a meeting of local Black leaders a few days later. 

Martin Luther King, Jr. was elected president of the newly-formed Montgomery Improvement Association around 3:30 on the afternoon of December 5, 1955. A few hours later he was standing in front of a crowd of 5,000 at Holt Street Baptist Church, outlining the key rationale and tactics of what would become a 382-day-long boycott. He proclaimed:

We only assemble here because of our desire to see right exist. My friends, I want it to be known that we’re going to work with grim and bold determination to gain justice on the buses in this city.

And we are not wrong, we are not wrong in what we are doing.If we are wrong, the Supreme Court of this nation is wrong. If we are wrong, the Constitution of the United States is wrong. If we are wrong, God Almighty is wrong. If we are wrong, Jesus of Nazareth was merely a utopian dreamer that never came down to earth. If we are wrong, justice is a lie. Love has no meaning. And we are determined here in Montgomery to work and fight until justice runs down like water, and righteousness like a mighty stream. [3]

And so we give thanks for those who cry out in the wilderness still, making pathways straight for our God. 

For Martin, Jo Ann, Susie, Rosa, Aurelia, Mary Louise and Claudette. Thanks be to God. 

For Jesus and John. Thanks be to God. 

For Mary and Elizabeth. Thanks be to God. 

For Amy and the children of Congregation Or Hadash. Thanks be to God. 

May we always remember that religious power and authority flows freely in surprising ways. 

May we believe that it’s never too late to shuv and adjust course.

May we continue to seek our place in the Realm of God, the Kingdom of Heaven, the Beloved Community. Now and always. Amen. 

SOURCES:

[1] Bible Worm podcast Episode 422

[2] Priests for Equality. The Inclusive Bible (p. 2220). Sheed & Ward. Kindle Edition.

[3] https://www.blackpast.org/african-american-history/speeches-african-american-history/1955-martin-luther-king-jr-montgomery-bus-boycott/

“A Tale of Two Leaders”

January 8, 2023 - Epiphany

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

The first thing the Magi noticed when they drove into the City was how much it had changed. A couple of them had never been there before - and so, had no frame of reference. But two or three of them remembered going there as children. Twenty years ago the Capital had been different. Grittier. A little more run down. Dirtier, for sure. There had been a palpable energy there of things happening. Not necessarily GOOD things, mind, but movement.

“Oh, wow! Where did THAT come from?” one of them said from the backseat, pointing excitedly out the window. The rest of the group craned their necks, looking up at the massive sports arena looming overhead.

“And, holy smokes! Look at THAT!” yelled another. They whipped their heads the other direction, noticing a massive church. “I think that used to just be a strip mall when I was a kid.”

After parking, they waved their phones at the meter. Paying for parking, sure, but also checking in. Somewhere in the cloud AI checked their digital ID cards against facial-recognition software. No one really knew how it worked - or cared - but it was necessary for keeping the peace. Not all cities had this system, of course, but in the Capital City it was complimentary. Knowing who was where at all times kept things safe. 

And the Capital certainly seemed safe. Secure. Quiet. The streets were clean. Hardly any people were out and about and those that were walked with purpose. They all looked clean-cut, professional. No homeless people cluttering up the sidewalks, that’s for sure. Come to think of it - no clutter of any kind, anywhere. 

“Remember when we were kids and people hung all kinds of stuff on these lampposts?” mused one of the group. “Flyers, I think they were called, right? Like little tweets on pieces of paper. You could see upcoming concerts, meetings, protests. It’s so weird that’s all gone now.”

No protests in the Capital, that’s for sure. Those were outlawed back when The Leader rose to prominence. The Leader was responsible for most of these changes, of course. He wanted to ensure the City of Peace lived up to its name. And so he used his influence to shut down all the rowdy establishments. Concerts, art shows, even small gatherings of friends could only use approved media. Independent news outlets were slowly absorbed into the big conglomerate run by his corporation. He even lobbied Congress to make the Capital City a protest-free zone. 

All of this was deemed necessary for peace to flourish. And, by and large, no one much minded. After all, people in the Capital City lived good lives. They had steady jobs, food on their tables, beautiful places to visit like the new sports arena and gorgeous new churches - all funded by the Corporation, of course. And so, even though things were a little more structured, a little stricter in the Capital, most people who lived there thought it was worth the trade off. No rowdy protests on the streets meant more time for work and play. Plus, what would they have to protest anyway? The residents of the Capital City even had access to healthcare through the Corporation’s hospital system. Something those outside the Capital could only dream of. 

The City of Peace was finally living up to its name. 

The Magi took the elevator up to the tippy-top of a gleaming skyscraper for their appointment. Waved through into The Leader’s office (with a retinal scan first, of course), they found themselves seated on the most expensive chairs they had ever seen. 

One of the Magi cleared her throat and spoke in a steady voice, “Thank you for meeting with us. You’re probably wondering why we’ve come all this way. We need your help finding someone. As you probably know, we’re experts in mystical energy shifts. And we’ve noticed a significant change in the energy flow just in the past two weeks. Our findings led us here, to the Capital City. And we’re looking for a newborn baby. Our sources tell us he is The Leader.”

The man they came to see sat behind a gleaming glass desk. He took a slow, steady sip of his coffee. Years of playing hardball in boardrooms meant he had a great poker face. He was revered by 95% of the population and feared by the rest. He had slowly, steadily been building his dynasty, building up the Corporation, building up ties of loyalty, building up this City. No one in a million years would have guessed that fear roiled under the surface of his calm exterior. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. A flash of something that looked like anger passed over his face. But no one would have guessed fear. 

Or confusion. After all, what were these kids talking about? They were looking for The Leader? But they’d already found him. The Leader was right here in the room with them. Sitting behind this glass desk, sipping his coffee. He had been given the title of Leader because he had earned it. He brought peace back to the City. He made it worthy of its name. And so he was The Leader. Why would they be looking for a baby? Who was this nameless threat?

The Leader’s assistant sat quietly to the side. Though her head had been buried in her phone a minute ago, she was looking out the window now, lost in thought. Like her mentor, she also had a great poker face. No one would have guessed at what was hidden beneath.

If these Magi, who everyone knew were very wide indeed, were looking for a baby they called Leader, what did that mean? What if this baby really was a new Leader? A threat to everything they had been building? She thought about her girlfriend, working several floors down. And the new house they had just built on the west side of the City. And the new vehicle they had just financed. And the money they had already put down on a vacation to Greece next year. Not to mention her dreams of buying an engagement ring, paying for the wedding, setting their future kids up for success. Was she going to lose her job? 

She was snapped out of her worry-cycle by the sound of one of the Magi humming quietly. She knew this song. What was it? She couldn’t quite place it. 

But then she remembered. It was a song her grandmother used to sing long ago. What were the words? 

“The Living God has spoken,

Earth answers with a song.

Weapons of war are broken,

the week are feeling strong.

See, we no longer hunger, crying out for bread.

Our God restores to life and raises us from the dead.” [1]

God, she hadn’t thought of that song in years. She hadn’t thought of God in years, either. What a funny thing - to forget about God. But she hadn’t needed to think about God. She hadn’t needed anything, really. She had everything she wanted. Everything she needed. Which is why this news of a new Leader, a different Leader, was so very disturbing. When you have everything you want, everything you need, why would you want anything to change? 

The Leader - the one sitting behind the desk, not the baby - cleared his throat. “Why don’t you all go have lunch? My private chef will take care of you. I’ll check around, see what I can figure out, and then I’m sure I can assist you in your quest.”

The Magi shuffled out. And other experts shuffled in. These were insider-experts, very different from the caravan of artsy weirdos who came from afar. The insider-experts gathered round the glass desk and their presence immediately made The Leader feel more at ease. They had the answers, of course they did. 

They spoke of an ancient prophecy. They told The Leader where this baby, this threat, could be found. It wasn’t in the Capital City at all, but in an outer suburb.

The Leader sent word to the Magi. Their phones flashed as the messages came in:

Found the baby. You were just a few miles off. He’s in Bethlehem. Just five miles south. I took the liberty of sending an update to your vehicle with the GPS information. So your van should drive you right there.

I hope you have a great visit. Once you find him, please do let me know. I’d love to go visit him, too. Safe travels.

The Magi finished lunch and hopped back into the van. Sure enough, the van knew just where to go and drove them on autopilot. 

As they left the Capital City, things started to look different. More run down. Trash on the streets…but also people, colors, the sounds of music, and pick up games in the park, and vendors selling their goods. They even passed a small protest on a corner. And saw flyers for a new art exhibit opening in the farmer’s market. 

The energy shifted. And they knew, even without the van’s autopilot guiding them, just where to go. They could feel the energy pulsing, emanating from the bakery on the corner. “House of Bread,” the sign said, and they felt themselves pulled up the stairs to the small apartment above the shop. 

And there he was. The baby. The Leader. Tiny, perfect, like any other newborn. 

His parents were gazing at him with the tired, love-soaked eyes of new parents everywhere. They didn’t seem surprised that the Magi had come. They didn’t need to be convinced that their baby was special. Around the space heater in that tiny apartment, strangers became friends. They opened their hearts to new possibilities as they shared stories.

Joseph, the father, spoke in hushed tones of a dream. 

Mary, the mother, quietly explained, “There was an angel…” 

The Magi puzzled over the flash of anger they had seen in Herod’s face when they asked him how to find The Leader. 

As the day wore on, they broke bread and sang songs and told jokes and showered gifts and love on the baby, who really did seem awfully special.

“What’s his name?” they asked, finally. 

“Jesus,” answered his parents, in one voice.

“Jesus,” mused the Magi, “One who saves. That seems like just the right name for one who is meant to be The Leader of his people.”

As night came close, the group of travelers found places to bed down. Couch-surfing, a sleeping bag on the floor of the hallway, an air mattress squished into the kitchen. 

One of the Magi rocked the baby, singing in hushed tones:

“The Living God has spoken,

Earth answers with a song.

Weapons of war are broken,

the week are feeling strong.

See, we no longer hunger, crying out for bread.

Our God restores to life and raises us from the dead.” [1]

After a night of fitful sleep and disturbing dreams, the Magi awoke before dawn. They packed up quietly, so as not to disturb the exhausted parents or sweet child. 

Having been warned in their dreams not to return to Herod, they deleted his messages from their phones, carefully removed the GPS update from their van, and returned to their home country by another route. 

Notes:

[1] “My Heart is Overflowing” based on 1 Samuel 2 (Hannah’s song). Lyrics by Miriam Therese Winter