‘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 of 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…’ (NRSV).
In his Meditations, Soren Kierkegaard comments on the remarkable fact that the chief priests and scribes of Israel, the very men who knew the prophecies of the Messiah so well they could tell the place of his birth, were not stirred to action at the news of the wise men. Here were the very people who had, supposedly, longed for and preached about his coming, and yet, when he came, they remained in place; only the magi went forward to the town of Bethlehem to behold the long-awaited newborn King. Kierkegaard writes:
‘What vexation it must have been for the kings, that the scribes who gave them the news they wanted remained quiet in Jerusalem! ‘We are being mocked,’ the kings might have thought. For indeed what an atrocious self-contradiction that the scribes should have the knowledge and yet remain still.’
It isn’t hard to see why they remained still. These men were connected to Herod. Perhaps they did not approve of all Herod stood for, indeed it would be hard to believe otherwise, given Herod’s ghastly reputation, but they certainly liked the perks of being connected. They were, in essence, court prophets with easy access to the halls of power. They treasured the honor and authority of their position, the fine and flowing robes that spoke to their prestige, the sumptuous feasts at the table of the king, and their places among the councils of the mighty. Had they left with the wise men, all of that would have been lost. Who would leave such a life to find the one born in the impoverished town of Bethlehem? And so rather than go to see the one they supposedly believed in, they remained in Herod’s court, savoring their insider status and the glories of a lesser kingdom.
Insiders are like that. Men and women of influence, those who enjoy a certain level of what the world calls success, can become so enthralled by the perks of their position and their political, social, or economic masters that they lose sight of what truly matters. Sadly, we live in a world where most want to be insiders. To have access to the halls of power, to possess honor and authority, to wear fine and flowing robes, to feast sumptuously at the tables of influence, to find places in the councils of the mighty, that is what life is all about. Who would trade such a life to follow the one found in impoverished places like Bethlehem? And so as it was in the case of the magi, it remains today. Most, even in the church it seems, would prefer to remain in the halls of Herod than risk their insider status in pursuit of one whose kingdom is of a different nature.
For Jesus’ Kingdom, of course, is of different nature. It does not occupy the halls of power. It does not possess the kind of honor and authority coveted by the insiders of the world. It involves no flowing robes, no sumptuous feasts around tables of influence, no place in the councils of those whom the world calls mighty. Indeed, the only time Jesus spent time in those halls and councils was when he was on trial for his life.
Which is why Jesus’ Kingdom is usually filled with outsiders.
Just take a look at the cross. As Jesus died on Calvary, he didn’t have much of a following. Most had abandoned him. Only one of the twelve, John, was present, along with several women, one of whom was his mother. There was a criminal dying on a cross to his side, and a Centurion, who, while he may have begun the day as an insider, ended it by treasonously declaring Jesus to be God’s Son.[1] None of these would find access to the halls of power. None would ever find positions of honor and authority in the eyes of the world. None would wear fine flowing robes that enhanced their prestige in the eyes of the people. None would feast sumptuously at the tables of a king or take places in the councils of the mighty. Their positions at the foot of the cross marked them out, not only as insignificant men and women in the eyes of the insiders, but as men and women willing to risk their reputations and lives for the sake of an upside-down kingdom. For them, the glories of the world were nothing when compared to the infinite value of simply being near Jesus.
Such is the way of things. The insiders, those with much to lose, are the most reluctant, the most hesitant, to move in the direction of Jesus. But the outsiders, those with little or nothing to lose, or at least those who are willing to give up what they do have for the sake of something better, something real, those who do not love their lives so much that they are afraid to lose them, will always be found leaving the places of honor for a place at Jesus’ side. They will always be found, not in the halls of power, but in impoverished towns, beside lowly mangers, and at the foot of the cross, willing to follow the one who led them there.
This year, may we be found among them.
Under Christ’s Mercy,
Brent
[1] Son of God was a title belonging to the Roman Emperor.