"Where are the Women"
Matthew 2:1-12
Epiphany, January 6, 2008
A Sermon by Paul McLain
‘On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother’ In the name of One God - Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Sometimes when we look at a painting or read a story, we learn more from what is not there as opposed to that which is obviously present. What’s missing from today’s gospel passage and Matthew’s birth and infancy narratives before and after in Chapters 1 and 2?
The obvious answers are the shepherds and heavenly host of angels that appear in Luke.
But a not so obvious response is: Where are the women?! They are readily apparent in Luke’s story of Jesus’ birth. First, we hear that Elizabeth is pregnant in her old age with a baby who will become John the Baptist. Then, we join Mary as she is visited by an angel and learns that she will give birth to the Son of God. We see Mary move from trepidation to acceptance. She says, ‘Here am I, Lord; Let it be with me according to your word.” Then, we watch as Mary journeys to see Elizabeth, and we eavesdrop on their dramatic conversation.
Then, Elizabeth gives birth to John. And a pregnant Mary journeys with Joseph to Bethlehem. She gives birth, wraps the baby in bands of cloth, and lays the baby in a manger. And after the angels and shepherds appear, we are invited into Mary’s heart where she treasures and ponders all that has been said and done.
Matthew tells the story differently. The gospel begins with the genealogy of Jesus by reciting the ancestors of Joseph. In Matthew, the angel appears to Joseph. It is Joseph who is told the child is from the Holy Spirit. It is Joseph who is told to name the child Jesus. Later, it is Joseph who has the dream in which an angel tells him to flee with his family to Egypt. And, it is Joseph who has another dream in which an angel tells him, ‘now it’s safe to go back to Israel.’ It’s a beautiful story of a great husband and father who cares for his family and is faithful and obedient to God.
In Matthew’s birth and infancy narrative, Mary is silent and when compared to Luke’s version, her appearance in the story seems minor and even passive. We tend to reconcile all this by saying Luke tells the birth story from Mary’s point of view, while Matthew tells the story from Joseph’s point of view. And while that’s true, maybe there’s more going on in Matthew’s story than what first appears obvious.
If you look carefully at Matthew’s genealogy in Chapter 1, you will find four women listed, Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba. All four were Gentiles. All four were misunderstood in their own time, but vindicated in the light of history, much like Mary who is also listed in the genealogy.
In today’s passage, the Magi find the child not in the grand temple. Not in a grand palace. But in a simple house. They enter the house and they see the child with Mary his mother. When we first read the passage, Mary and the baby seem frozen, much like the Madonna and child postage stamp that many of us recently placed on Christmas cards.
But one author helps us look at what is really going on in this scene from Mary’s perspective, ‘From behind her veil Mary looked on the bowed heads of the exhausted travelers, now seated before their Deliverer, and tried to imagine how lengthy and difficult their journey had been. She had compassion on the Magi, for she, too, had once been led by God to undertake a long, arduous journey. For this modest Galilean mother there was no avoiding the fact these men were uncircumcised Gentiles who spoke in a strange tongue. Yet, beneath their matted hair and their odd clothing, these were God’s children who were among the first to recognize the true nature of her son.’[i]
This quiet hospitality of a Jewish mother to Gentile strangers was revolutionary. Like her son, she transcended long-held barriers. As another writer asserts, ‘Mary and the baby as the almost-missing persons in the story appear as the discordant note to what is going on around them. In the relationship between mother and child we see, not competing kingdoms, but compassionate kin-dam, God’s reign as it moves beyond a man-made power structure to a place of community and welcome, much like Mary and Joseph’s home. We are reminded that there is another kind of authority in the gospel story. This authority is later portrayed for us by Matthew as he speaks of Jesus as the embodiment of Divine wisdom who cares for the people and leads them with the authority of love.’[ii]
The magi are humbled in the presence of Jesus. They fall to their knees before the child. They offer gifts. They defy Herod and return home a different way. I believe they return home as different, more humble persons. And, in the passage following today’s text, Mary, Joseph and Jesus also leave on a journey. They escape to Egypt and avoid Herod. Perhaps the magi’s gift of gold funded their escape. Herod is infuriated. He wants to hold on to his power. He orders the killing of male children in and around Bethlehem under the age of two.
And, at last, we do hear the voice of a woman in this story. It is the voice of Rachel, crying out from the grave, weeping for the senseless genocide of all these children, weeping for mothers who are weeping, weeping and crying out to a God of compassion
who is weeping with them.
This birth story of Jesus is not all joy. It comes with a tremendous cost. And as Jim reminded us two weeks ago, amidst the radiance of the birth of Jesus are the looming shadows of the cross, where it will be the women who once again cry out and weep over the death of a beloved son. Mary’s son, Joseph’s son, God’s son, who delivers us from evil and saves us from our sins.
Evil and sin are still very much present in this world. But the deliverer conquered death and is alive. We are saved, though, not just for an after-life. We are saved to live now! We are saved to enter the kin-dam now! And our living deliverer has work for us to do.
There are still Herods around. We see them when we see the senseless deaths of children in genocides in the Sudan and other places. We see them when we see the senseless deaths of children killed in the street violence here in Wichita. We see them when we see the senseless deaths of children from preventable diseases and poverty. And, when we become so absorbed in our own lives that we no longer see them and we no longer hear their mothers’ cries, we commit the sin of what we have left undone.
But, as we see and as we hear, what can we do? Perhaps we can begin by following Mary’s example of simple hospitality to those around us and to strangers from far-off lands. In the Rector’s Reflections of our January ‘Talk of the Flock,’ Jim challenges us during 2008 to learn about, act upon, and give financially to fulfill the Millennium Development Goals that our Diocese voted to support in October. Three of those goals especially tie into today’s message:
- Promote gender equality and empower women.
- Reduce child mortality.
- Improve maternal health.
As we begin this season of Epiphany, this season in which we celebrate the global manifestation and mission of Christ, may we be mindful of these goals as we vision as a church. May we offer hospitality to strangers. May we look beyond the obvious in our lives and in our world. May we listen for near and distant cries and voices, even when those cries and voices are silent or silenced. And, most of all, may we find, fall to our knees, and serve the Deliverer. In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
[i] Daniel L. Gilbert, Magi (Brewster, MA: Paraclete Press, 2007), 165.
[ii] Letty Russell, “Wise Women Bearing Gifts” in Cross Currents, Spring 2003.
