More Than Three Kings: The Radical, Political Truth Behind the Christmas Story

Beyond the Familiar Scene

The Christmas nativity scene is one of the most enduring images in our culture: three royal kings, dressed in velvet and jewels, bringing the baby Jesus finely-wrapped birthday gifts. It's a peaceful, almost cozy picture of adoration.

But the original biblical account in the Gospel of Matthew is far from this sweet tale. When we look closely at the text, we find a raw political and theological narrative, one that is defined by state-sanctioned fear, brutal violence, and a radical, world-altering hope. By removing centuries of tradition from this story, we can uncover surprising takeaways from the story of the magi that seem more relevant today than ever. Here are four possibilities:

1. It’s a Political Thriller, Not a Fairytale

The story of the magi unfolds within a specific context of political oppression. Matthew’s Gospel sets the scene “In the time of King Herod,” who is a puppet ruler of the Roman Empire, particularly known for his violent paranoia.

When Herod, the installed king, hears news from foreign astrologers about the birth of a new “King of the Jews,” his reaction is not joy, but terror. It drives him to coercion and control, culminating in what Matthew’s account describes as the horrific slaughter of Bethlehem’s children (Matthew 2:16-18). His fear escalates into genocide, echoing Pharaoh’s slaughter of Hebrew infants in the first chapter of Exodus.

In this volatile landscape, the magi’s journey and their homage to Jesus are not merely devotional acts—they are deeply political. By kneeling before a vulnerable child in an occupied territory, they make a bold and embodied declaration that their ultimate loyalty lies with this new king, not with the violent empire represented by Herod. 

Matthew presents Jesus’ birth not in opposition to politics, but within it. The empire’s reaction to Jesus reveals the threat he poses to systems of oppression. (Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee, from her feminist commentary on Matthew 2.) 

This framing matters because it mirrors the reality of oppression in our world today. Palestinian theologian Mitri Raheb, preaching from Bethlehem, calls the Christmas story a “Palestinian story par excellence,” rooted in the painful realities of occupation and state-sanctioned violence. The good news, he explains, is found in God's deliberate choice:

When the fullness of time came... God did not choose Rome or Athens for Christ to be born at; He chose occupied Bethlehem.

2. The “Three Kings” Are a Myth

The popular image of three kings named Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar is a product of later Christian tradition, not the biblical text itself. 

King Tingz (by Nicolette Faison)

The original Gospel account is much more mysterious. Matthew calls the visitors magoi apo anatolōn—magi from the East—without specifying number, gender, or religion. The idea of three visitors was most likely drawn from the three gifts they offered: gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

The term magoi comes from Old Persian and refers to a “priestly class in Zoroastrianism.” This detail directly challenges the myth of royal kings. They were foreign, Gentile astrologers—figures who would have been considered outsiders by the religious establishment. Their inclusion is significant because it places God's activity firmly on the margins, subverting imperial logic where a new king is hailed not by the religious elite in the center of power, but by Gentile astrologers on the fringes.

3. The Magi Might Have Been Women

In her fresh, feminist interpretation, theologian Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee proposes that the magi could have been women.

The basis for this theory lies in the original term. In Zoroastrian tradition, the title magoi could refer to both men and women. Reimagining the magi this way radically shifts the story’s meaning. Instead of “strange men” arriving at the door, we can picture “wise women crossing boundaries of religion, ethnicity, and culture to stand in solidarity with a marginalized mother and child.”

In this interpretation, their journey is not just reverence and worship but an act of “radical accompaniment.” Their visit becomes a “feminine embodiment of God’s epiphany.” This reading is particularly powerful when considering the scene from Mary’s perspective. During her postpartum recovery, a time when cultural law might have kept her isolated, she may have welcomed the solidarity of other women into her room far more readily than that of foreign men. 

4. It’s a Story About Responding to Fear

At its core, the Epiphany story is a clash between two starkly different responses to fear.

First, there is Herod’s response. Terrified of losing his grip on power, his fear mutates into “deception, surveillance, and mass violence.” He deploys “state-sanctioned terror to preserve power,” revealing how untransformed fear can lead to the most destructive outcomes.

The magi provide a powerful “counterpoint.” They, too, face fear and uncertainty, traveling through foreign lands and confronting a paranoid tyrant. But they “don’t let Herod’s fear-driven demands stop them.” They model what it looks like “to be led by hope, moving through fear without letting it paralyze us.”

Their final act—being warned in a dream and returning home “by another road”—is deeply symbolic. It signifies not just a different geographical route, but a “transformed life.” They leave changed by their encounter with Christ, choosing a new path forward. In her commentary on the passage, Rev. Dr. Boyung Lee frames this choice by asking a question that echoes the poet Rumi:

Will we move the way fear makes us move? Or will we move the way love calls us to?

A Different Road Home

When we look past the sanitized and saccharin nativity narratives we're so accustomed to, we find that the story of the magi is far more political, complex, and challenging than the domesticated version we often see. It’s a narrative about political resistance, radical inclusion, and the courageous choice to pursue hope in a world defined by fear.

The journey of the magi is an invitation to us all. It asks us to consider which path we will choose—the one dictated by fear, control, and violence, or the other road of courageous hope. In a world that still brims with violence and uncertainty, the magi's journey insists that fear doesn't have to stop us - that love is the antidote to fear and that, ultimately, it is Love that leads us forward. 

The Power of the Kingdom: Who Are You?

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Welcome to Transfiguration Sunday and to the end of the Epiphany season! 

Several weeks ago, we talked about the meaning of this word, epiphany. Anyone want to venture a definition? An epiphany can be an idea, a new thought, perhaps even a new understanding. The season of Epiphany is quite similar. It’s a season of revelation, of stories that tell us who Jesus is.

If you think all the way back to early January, when we first moved into the gospel of Mark, do you remember how the gospel opened? “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Soon after, at Jesus’ baptism, we heard the voice from heaven speaking directly to Jesus - “You are my Son, the Beloved,” confirming that this Jesus is the Christ, the Anointed One, the Messiah long promised. We know this, but, so far only the demons have been able to figure it out, too. The disciples just don’t seem to get it.

This is likely why, in the story just before today’s reading, we witness Jesus healing a blind man. Twice. Because the first time, it doesn’t take. At least not fully. Like the blind man, the disciples are beginning to see, but not clearly. At least, not yet.

Then, we come to the first part of today’s lesson. From Mark, chapter 8. 

Jesus went on with his disciples to the villages of Caesarea Philippi; and on the way he asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” And they answered him, “John the Baptist; and others, Elijah; and still others, one of the prophets.” He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” And he sternly ordered them not to tell anyone about him.

Then he began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” --Mark 8:27-33 (NRSV)

This portion of our reading, often called the “Confession of Peter,” is the literary hinge for the Gospel of Mark. It’s both an ending to the first half of the Gospel and an introduction to the second half.  We are transitioning from Galilee in the north in the first half to Jerusalem in the south in the second. After today’s story, we will begin this journey to the south. To Jerusalem. And to what awaits Jesus there. 

But it has been in Galilee where the main question that Jesus is being asked is “Who are you?” Soon the question will change to “Why are you here?” But, before this happens, Jesus is about to give the disciples a little quiz. To decide how good their sight is. Or isn’t.

“Who do people say that I am?” Jesus asks them.  Immediately, Peter jumps in with a response. “You are the Christ,” he says. We might applaud and cheer him for getting it so right. Except he has gotten it so wrong. Because, Peter doesn’t see. He doesn’t understand who this Jesus is. He has in his mind the traditional picture of the Messiah, of the Christ - a political figure who would wield power and authority and who would free the Jewish people from Roman occupation, restoring the line of King David. This is who Peter understands Jesus to be. It is a picture that he and many others have created in their minds as to what this Messiah will be like, adopting their own idea, rather than God’s idea. An image that is perhaps intensified by the fact that they are in Caesarea Philippi, named in honor of Emperor Augustus Caesar, and the seat of power for the Roman government in this region. 

Thus, we can easily understand why Peter, even after all the time spent with Jesus, would still believe that this was who Jesus was. Because it was this Messiah that fit who Peter was and what he really wanted. Peter and so many others.

Don’t we do the same thing? We fashion Jesus out of who we are and what we want in a savior. Maybe it’s a savior to swoop down and save us when we are done something foolish or made a bad choice. A savior of convenience, who we quickly forget then when things are better. 

Or maybe we try to co-opt Jesus for our own political ends. With both the political left and right in our country trying to claim (or reclaim) Jesus as their own. Each creating an image of the Jesus they want and then co-opting him for their own purposes. To defend their actions. To support a position. To  justify a cause.

Who are you? The answer to that question will identify what your Jesus looks like. Because chances are you, as I, have created Jesus in your image, for your own needs, and as you want him to be.
Just as Jesus did with Peter, he does with us. Rebuking us for thinking human thoughts instead of God’s thoughts.

Who is Jesus? What does it take to be his disciple? We, like Peter and the rest of the disciples, soon find this out. 

He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.” And he said to them, “Truly I tell you, there are some standing here who will not taste death until they see that the kingdom of God has come with power.” --Mark 8:34-9:1 (NRSV)

Jesus tells us to take up our cross. To take up our instrument of death and follow him. Because, to be Jesus’ disciple means we must lose our lives. Our selves. And, particularly, our image of the Messiah as we want him to be. 

One wonders what Peter was thinking after all this. After his picture of who the Messiah was, of who Jesus was had been blown to smithereens. But, soon after, we find ourselves with him and other disciples in a mountaintop experience. 

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. --Mark 9:2-8 (NRSV)

If Peter had been confused before, think of how he felt now. As they watched Jesus transfigured. Saw his face glowing. His clothing turning bright. Witnessing the appearance of Elijah - that great prophet. And Moses - that great law giver. Jesus, surrounded symbolically by the “Law and the Prophets.” And the fulfillment of them. And then that voice from heaven. This time speaking directly to them. This is my Son. Listen to him! It’s no wonder Peter wanted to stay there. To bask in that experience for a little bit. To build a few tents and just camp out there. Because the words Jesus had spoken a few days before, about taking up one’s instrument of death, had stuck with him. Perhaps, terrified him a bit. Here, on the mountain top, he felt safe and secure, basking in the light of Jesus, the very Son of God. 

Sisters and brothers, just as our story today is a literary hinge in the Gospel of Mark, so this Transfiguration Sunday is a hinge between Epiphany and Lent. Between the revelation of who Jesus is and the answer to the question of why he has come. It’s tempting for us to want to stay here, on the mountaintop, where it feels safe and secure. Where we are centered. Where we, like Peter, bask in the glory of God. 

But, this is not who we have been called to be. Instead, we are called down off the mountain, into the messiness and grittiness of our daily lives. Into our communities. Freed as we are to be in service to this place. And, knowing that, as we journey, Jesus accompanies us as he did Peter and the disciples. Teaching us who he is, why he came, and reminding us who we are. Every step of every day for the rest of our lives, into all eternity.

May we bask in the light of our Savior this day. But, may we then gladly go out to be in service to all the world. Amen. 

Preached February 23, 2020, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
The Transfiguration of Our Lord
Readings: Mark 8:27-9:8; Malachi 4:4-6; Psalm 27:1-4

God's Promise of Jesus: Guided by God

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
    are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
    who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you; for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt, and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”

When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah:

“A voice was heard in Ramah,
    wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
    she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazorean.” Matthew 2:1-23 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you, from God, our Creator, and from our Savior Jesus, the Messiah, who is Christ the Lord. Amen.

We’ve really romanticized this story, haven’t we? It’s not often that we hear this full second chapter of Matthew on this day. Usually, on Epiphany, we hear only the story of the three magi and the star. Notice, I use the word “magi” instead of “wise men” because this is what they were - magi. Short for magician. Not the magicians that we know, but more like astrologers. Those who look to the stars and to the heavens for answers. 

We’re romanticized this story, creating a myth that there were three magi, led by the star, from very far away. Assuming that, from the number of gifts in the story, there are three of them, although our text never says that.

We’ve romanticized the gifts themselves. The three gifts. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh. We’ve created our own imagery around these gifts. That gold was given to represent Jesus as king. And of his kingly reign. Then frankincense. That it was given to represent Jesus in his priestly role, since this fragrant oil was used by the temple priests in their rituals of sacrifice. And, then, the third gift, myrrh, an oil used to prepare bodies for burial. Given to represent the sacrifice of Jesus. His death. For us. 

We’ve developed such a lovely and romantic story around the coming of the magi, that it is hard to hear the entire story.  The full story. Not only the story of the magi, who follow the star to find this new king. But, also the story of Herod. And of the religious leaders in Jerusalem. Herod, a puppet king, controlled by Rome, claiming to have Jewish ancestry in order to get the position. And, then, there are the religious leaders. The ones who should have been the ones to know about this king, instead of these foreigners - these Gentiles - from the east. Both Herod and the religious leaders who are frightened by the possibility of a new king rising up to claim power. All of Jerusalem, which was the center of power. Threatened by a baby. 

And, then, there is the worst part of the story, a story that is often called, “The Slaughter of the Innocents.” The killing of children two years old and under. Out of fear and out of Herod’s anger at the act of civil disobedience by the magi. As they, not trusting Herod, disobey his order to return and tell him where this new king is. With the result that Herod, in his fury, orders innocent children to be killed. 

Perhaps we have romanticized this Epiphany story, glossing over all of the evil, because it feels too close to home. Too close to our own world, two thousand years later. 

And, yet, if we look closely at this story, there are those small places of hope. Those small lights in the midst of the darkness. There is the warning to the magi in a dream to return another way. Instead of via Jerusalem and without providing intelligence about the child to Herod.

There is the angel who appears to Joseph again, in a dream. And warns him to go to Egypt. To take Mary and the child and flee. To become refugees in a land that once imprisoned and enslaved Joseph’s ancestors. To be safe from Herod.

And, then, there is the very star itself. Called the Bethlehem Star. That, if you listened carefully to the story this morning, you heard that the magi first noticed it at its rising. That it was lost along the way. Yet, that after the magi had set out from Jerusalem, it appeared once again. Leading them and then stopping over the very place where the young Jesus was.

I stumbled upon an article this week by Craig Chester, an astronomer who co-founded the Monterey Institute for Research in Astronomy.  This Star of Bethlehem, he writes, “is a mystery and a puzzle, involving not only theology and astronomy, but also history and even astrology.”

Theologians and astronomers and historians for years have struggled over this story. Trying to understand who the Magi were. Where they came from. When they might have appeared in Judea. Trying to connect historical timelines with astronomical knowledge to find out if this story of the star and of the magi is true. Even though, for us, we know that the gospels are not written necessarily for historical or other scientific purposes, but to provide theological understanding for God’s people. 

And, yet, Dr. Chester tells this story, from his perspective as an astronomer. That in 3 and 2 BC, astronomers know that there were a series of close conjunctions involving Jupiter. Interestingly, the planet Jupiter represents kingship, coronations, and the birth of kings. In Hebrew, Jupiter was known as Sedeq or “righteousness,” a term that was also used for the Messiah.

In September of 3 BC, for example, the planet Jupiter came into conjunction with Regulus, the star of kingship, in the brightest constellation of Leo, which was the constellation of kings. It was also a constellation associated with the Lion of Judah - a reference that is made in Hebrew scripture to the Messiah. In that month, the royal planet approached the royal star in the royal constellation representing Israel. Just a month earlier, Jupiter and Venus, the Mother planet and the planet of love, had almost seemed to touch each other in another close conjunction, also in Leo. And, then, the conjunction between Jupiter and Regulus was repeated. Not once, but twice, in February and May of 2 BC. Finally, in June of 2 BC, Jupiter and Venus, the two brightest objects in the sky except for the sun and the moon, experienced an even closer encounter when their disks appeared to touch. To the naked eye they became a single bright object above the setting sun.

Chester argues that the Magi, being the skilled astrologers that they were, could not have missed this exceptionally rare spectacle. That the astrological significance of these events must have been seen by them as the announcement of the impending birth of a great king of Israel.

Now all of this is incredibly fascinating. At least, it was to me. But there’s one more observation made by Dr. Chester. You see, planets normally move eastward through the stars, not westward as they would have had to move to reach Bethlehem. They also regularly exhibit what are called retrograde loops, which are points in the sky when they appear to slow, come to a full stop, and move backward (or westward) through the sky for weeks. As a planet nears the end of a retrograde loop, it slows, stops, and then resumes its eastward course. Chester argues that it seems plausible that the Magi were “overjoyed” at again seeing before them His star - Jupiter - which, at its stationary point, was standing still over Bethlehem. He argues this because astronomers know for certain that Jupiter performed a retrograde loop in 2 BC. And that it was at its stationary point on December 25th.

Now, I don’t know the truth or even the significance of Dr. Chester’s article. What I do know, though, is that, as we read through this story that has both great joy and deep sadness, we see these points of light appearing in the midst of darkness. Dreams. Angels. A Star. Points of light that guide the magi and Joseph out of darkness. Small moments of guidance. Moments of God’s guidance.

Because this, I think, is how God guides us throughout our lives. Through small points of light - star gifts - small moments that lead us out of darkness to the light and the joy of the incarnation. To the coming of God to earth to be present with us for all time. 

And, so, this morning, I have a small point of light for you. We call these Star Gifts. There are a number of stars here. On each is a word that I would like you to reflect on for the coming year. Hang it somewhere, where you can see it every day. And, then, like Mary, ponder the significance of this Word on your life this year. Wonder how God might be speaking to you through this simple Word. Notice that you are not asked to give anything, but invited to receive. Because this is always the order of things in God’s realm - God always gives first. And then we are invited to respond with our gifts and ourselves.

May this star gift provide for us moments this year to ponder the incarnation of God. How God comes to us. How God speaks to us. And how God guides us, just as God did the magi so very long ago. Amen.

Preached January 6, 2019, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
Feast of Epiphany
Readings: Matthew 2:1-23; Psalm 96:10-13

Encountering the Messiah: Location

The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

When he was in Jerusalem during the Passover festival, many believed in his name because they saw the signs that he was doing. But Jesus on his part would not entrust himself to them, because he knew all people and needed no one to testify about anyone; for he himself knew what was in everyone. John 2:13-25 (NRSV)

Grace and peace to you from our Lord and Savior, the Messiah, who is Christ, the Lord. Amen.

I don’t know if you’re like me, but, I’m one of those people who, as each year draws to a close, likes to read all the articles and listen to the reports that recap the last year’s events and tries to put them into a broader, longer-term perspective. I’m always trying to make sense of things that have happened that, in the larger scheme of politics or economics or from a societal standpoint have made an impact.
Sometimes, the events in those annual lists are things that have had just a small effect. At other times, they have made huge and lasting impacts on our world. 

What comes to mind for you, for example, if I mention the fall of 2008? For those of us who lived through it, we know the huge impact--the radical shift--that the one week in September made upon not just our economy, but the economy of the entire world.

Or think about how the world--and maybe even your life--has changed since the iPhone was created just over ten years ago. Before 2007, we didn’t know what an “app” was. We had no way of being constantly connected to the internet. We had likely never used a touch-screen before. Or known what “pinch-to-zoom” meant. Or taken a “selfie,” much less upload it to Facebook or Snapchat or Instagram. Or even known what “outsourcing” was or thought about where our devices came from or heard much about labor abuses in Chinese iPhone factories.  

It seems to me that what often appear at first to be fairly small, insignificant things or events end up having a huge impact. They can make a radical shift in the way our world operates or understands things. 

It is this is what is happening in our story today. A seemingly small incident in the temple that is really a radical shift. A radical shift that will completely change faith and our understanding of God. And a radical shift that not only changes Judaism and the temple, but still impacts us as believers today, some two millennia later. 

First of all, it is important to note that this story--the cleansing of the temple--is located in John in a very different spot in each of the other three gospels--Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Unlike in John, where it is located at the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, in the other three--the synoptic Gospels, It is located at the end of Jesus’ ministry. In the synoptics, it is Jesus’ actions in the temple that are the catalyst for the anger of the Jewish leadership and their plot to kill him. In other words, this story in the synoptic Gospels is the beginning of the end of Jesus’ ministry and, ultimately, his life.

So, why does John put this story at the beginning of the Jesus’ public ministry? 

If you remember all of our stories from the Hebrew Scripture last year, perhaps you will recall that, for Israel, the temple in Jerusalem was central to their worship. It was in the temple, in the Holy of Holies, where God’s promised to remain. This is why the city of Jerusalem and, more specifically, the temple was central to all of Israel’s religious practice. This is why the Jewish people trekked days and miles to Jerusalem to worship for the major feasts. This is why Israel was so devastated that Jerusalem was captured and the temple destroyed by the Babylonians. This is also why it was so important to the Jewish people that the temple be rebuilt. Everything about their faith, their spiritual lives, and their religion was centered in the temple in Jerusalem.

Central to Israel’s worship practices at the temple was the sacrifice of animals. Everyone was required under liturgical law to make an animal sacrifice. If you were traveling hundreds of miles to worship, it was pretty impractical for you to bring along a bull, or a ram, or a dove. So, it was only practical that, when you got to Jerusalem, you needed to purchase an animal to sacrifice. So, eventually, a marketplace grew up around the temple, where merchants began to offer for the people’s convenience animals for sale for temple sacrifice.

In the same way, many people came from places where different currency was used. So, when they arrived in Jerusalem, they need to exchange their currency for money that would work in Jerusalem. Thus, the Jewish version of American Express arose, where people could do this.

So, the marketplaces that were happening around the temple were very practical and they were needed by the Israelites journeying to Jerusalem to worship. So, in John--please note that the perspective in John is different than in the other gospels--in John, when Jesus drives the merchants out of the temple, it is not necessarily because Jesus believes that the marketplace is evil. There is no mention by John that any financial abuses were happening at the temple. 

Instead, it seems that Jesus is doing this to send a message about who he is and what his role is in this fourth Gospel. Jesus is making a bold statement, not so much “against” anything, but rather “for” something. For his authority to represent and reveal who the God of the temple is, whom Jesus knows intimately as his Father. And as a result of his actions in the temple, Jesus is about to inaugurate a radical shift in the understanding of the Jewish people as to where God’s presence is located.

His actions lead to a confrontation. “Who are you?” the Jewish leaders ask. “What gives you the authority to do what you’ve done?” They challenge him.

Jesus responds with these words: “Destroy this temple and in three days I will raise it up.”

It is clear that the Jewish leadership don’t understand the double-meaning behind his words. In fact, it is not only the Jewish leadership that misunderstand, it is also Jesus’ disciples. Note the language in verse 22: “After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.” They, themselves, didn’t fully understand until after the resurrection. And we, some 2,000 years later, get that Jesus was referring to his body as a temple and, particularly to his coming crucifixion and his resurrection.

But, what was the deeper point that Jesus was trying to make here? To get the Jewish leadership to understand?

What was the deeper point Jesus was trying to make here? 

His point was that God was no longer going to be restricted to the temple. In fact, it was that God was right there. Right in front of them. Jesus was telling them that God’s Spirit would no longer live in a building, but it would live in him and then, after he had ascended, it would be poured out into every human heart. No longer was God to be found only in the temple. God would be found in the heart of every human being.

This was radical for them. It is still a radical idea for us, too.

Can you see what God is giving? Do you see Jesus present right now in front of you? Here, in the Word made flesh? Here, in the bread and the wine? And in the heart of every single person you meet? Do you see God in front of you?

That is the message of Epiphany. God is right here in front of you. God is present in the flesh, incarnated for you and for me and for all people everywhere.

Come. And see.

Amen.

Preached January 21, 2018, at Grace & Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY.
3rd Sunday after the Epiphany
Readings: Psalm 127:1-2; John 2:13-25