The False Religion of Herod: Wisdom Pilgrims in Violent Times

Matthew 2:1-12

Some say that “an epiphany” is what happens anytime someone discovers something brand new, like when they say something like: “I was today-years-old when I discovered thisor learned that.

I was today-years-old when I discovered the game we played as children called, “tag,” (T.A.G.) is an acronym: “Touch and Go.”

I was today-years-old when I learned the nursery rhyme “this little piggy went to the market,” didn’t mean this little piggy was going to Kroger to pick up some groceries. It meant this little piggy was going to be the groceries!

I was today-years-old when I learned the word “stressed” is just “desserts” spelled backwards. Or I was today-years-old when I learned that the Bible never says there were three wise men. It only mentions three gifts. And they were not kings, but magi, astrologers, who did not visit the baby Jesus at the manger with the shepherds. but visited the toddler Jesus in a house maybe a couple of years later. And there is no scholar who believes they rode on camels.

However, the word “epiphany” means something more. Even the Google says: When someone says, “I had an epiphany,” it means they’ve experienced a powerful, illuminating moment of clarity that changes not only their perspective, but their actions.

The Epiphany we commemorate today reveals what’s really going on in the world, and then, calls us to make a change, to do something. Epiphany is both an unveiling and a calling.

Matthew wastes no time unwrapping Christmas: “After Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the time of King Herod…”

Before the star shines and gifts are given, Matthew names the power in the room. Because Epiphany is not just about who Jesus is. It’s about what his presence in the world exposes.

Herod hears of a child born “king of the Jews,” and Matthew says he is frightened, and notice this, “all of Jerusalem with him.” Because when an unhinged autocrat like Herod is frightened, everybody is in trouble.

Herod is frightened because oppressive power always recognizes a threat when it hears one. And this is the first thing that Matthew wants us to understand. Jesus, and the way of liberating love, mercy, justice, and nonviolence he would teach, model, and embody, and call others to follow, poses a serious threat to the kings of this world.

Now, one might guess that Herod would follow in the steps of his predecessor Antiochus IV who outlawed Jewish religious rites and traditions.[i] But Herod does not reject religion. He does something far more sinister, something that came quite naturally for his egotistical, greedy, self-serving, always-looking-out-for-number-one self. Instead of banning religion, he uses religion. He exploits faith purely for personal benefit.

He gathers the scribes. He pretends to consult the scriptures. He listens as scribes read the prophets to him. He speaks fluently in religious language, asking about the Messiah.

And then he lies. Not crudely. Not clumsily. The smooth-talking conman lies faithfully.Or at least, it sounds that way:

“Go and search diligently for the child, and when you find him, bring me word, so that I also may go and pay him homage.”

This is Herod doing one of the things Herod does best: conning people in order to serve himself. This time it’s religious people, making them believe he is one of them.

But the religion of Herod is a lie. It’s just fear, dressed up as faith. It’s violence wrapped in reverence. It’s power using the name of God for evil purposes.

Matthew wants us to see this clearly, because as you know, this is not an ancient political scheme. It’s a recurring one.

And today, we need to say it clearly and often: White Christian Nationalism is not Christianity. It is the lie of Herod, baptized and repackaged.

It claims a nation and a race of people are God’s favorites.
It confuses achievements and dominance with the blessing of God.

It demands absolute loyalty and calls it being faithful.

And it’s all a lie.

And what makes the lie so dangerous is wherever it takes root, someone, or some group, is always made expendable.

Antisemitism grows when Christianity is fused with national identity, turning Jewish neighbors into outsiders within a so-called “Christian nation.”

Islamophobia flourishes when that same logic decides who belongs and who never will, baptizing fear and casting Muslims as threats rather than beloved neighbors.

And political violence becomes justified when religious language sanctifies power, hardens hearts, training people to confuse cruelty with righteousness in the name of God and country.

Herod did not invent hatred. He simply learned how to make hate sound holy.

This is the evil Epiphany reveals. The whole world witnessed it on Christmas Day when bombs dropped on Muslims in Nigeria were called “a Christmas present.”

This is the false faith of Herod. It’s state violence that is baptized. It’s innocent lives reduced to collateral, and it’s the holy name of Christ used to bless what the nonviolent Jesus condemns.

And when Christians applaud it, excuse it, or explain it away, then the lie has completed its work. Because the greater travesty is not only that power speaks this way; it’s that the church learns to tolerate it.

This is why Epiphany matters. Epiphany exposes this false religion of Herod. But as even Google points out, Epiphany doesn’t stop there. Epiphany tells us exactly what to do about it.

In a recent article, Father John Dear reminds us that the Magi are not decorative figures in a nativity scene. They are our model. He calls the Magi “wisdom pilgrims,” people on a lifelong spiritual journey toward the God of peace. They follow the light they are given, not toward comfort, but toward truth.[ii]

It cannot be overstated that the Magi are outsiders, foreigners, practitioners of another tradition; and yet, they suddenly see what the insiders miss. They are “that-day-old” when they recognize that God’s presence and power is not found in palaces or on thrones, but in vulnerability. They kneel before the child, presenting their gifts.

And then comes the main point of Epiphany.

After the revelation, after the worship, after the gifts, they are ordered to return to Herod: to report back; to cooperate and to collude; to assist a system that sacrifices the innocent to preserve itself.

But Matthew tells us that once they encounter this child, once they meet the God of peace enfleshed in vulnerability, they cannot comply. They disobey orders. Not violently. Not dramatically. But decisively. Because, as Father Dear would say, once you meet the nonviolent Jesus, obedience to violent power becomes impossible. Epiphany makes cooperation with violence morally incoherent.

This is the moral clarity that is needed in our world today. The Magi understand something Herod never will: you cannot encounter a God who enters the world without violence and then support a war-making system. You cannot kneel before a vulnerable child and not resist a tyrant.

This is why Father Dear points out that, after Epiphany, discipleship becomes civil disobedience. Because it is obvious that the nonviolent Jesus cannot be fused with empire. And religion used to justify violence or cruelty is no longer Christian. It is anti-Christ.

This is why the lie must sound religious. Because violence cannot survive without spiritual cover. This is why empire always needs chaplains. Because power depends on churches that will quote scripture while looking away.

The good news is that not many of you, if any, were “today-years-old” when you discovered not every prayer is faithful. Not every “God bless America” from a politician is holy. Not every appeal to God deserves our allegiance. Not every law should be followed. And this is where Epiphany informs our public life.

Because when religious language is used to justify war, the church must decide whether it will provide cover or tell the truth.

When antisemitism hides behind distorted theology, the church must remember Jesus was a Jew.

When Islamophobia is baptized as security, the church must choose whether fear or love will shape its witness.

When political violence is normalized with Christian rhetoric, the church must decide whether it still recognizes the voice of Herod and follows the voice of Jesus.

The Magi show us what faithfulness looks like after Epiphany. It looks like nonviolent resistance.

And that is the call Epiphany places on us now.

Not to admire the Magi.
Not to romanticize their journey.
But to join them.

Father Dear says we too are called to be “wisdom pilgrims.” We are people who seek the nonviolent Jesus on the margins of a culture addicted to violence. We are people who are allowing our encounter with Christ to lead us away from systems that depend on bloodshed and cruelty. We are people who live the Sermon on the Mount not as metaphor, but as mandate.

Our faith is a faith of resistance. It’s faith that refuses to bless bombs. It’s faith that refuses to baptize borders. It’s faith that refuses to confuse domination with God’s blessing. It’s a faith that will call out the proclamation that “this is a Christian nation” for what it is. It’s a lie, a dangerous lie that must be called out. Because change will happen, not because people will stop the lies, but because the lies are exposed by the light.

The good news is that the light still shines in our world.
Truth is still being revealed.
And Christ is still born into this world that would rather kill him than change anything.

So, let’s go from this place today as wisdom pilgrims.

Follow the Light, even when it leads you away from power.

Shine the light, even when it is dangerous to do so.

Refuse the lie, especially when it sounds religious.

Withdraw your cooperation from violence in every form it takes.

Kneel and offer your gifts only where the God of the nonviolent Jesus is truly revealed.

And may the God of peace guide our steps, the Christ of nonviolence shape our faith, and the Spirit that is Holy give us courage to live what has been revealed, to live this Epiphany.

And when we are challenged, when our faith is questioned, when we are asked what’s gotten into us. “What kind of kind of resolution did you make this year?”

May we remember this Epiphany Sunday and answer: “I was today-years-old when I learned that following Jesus means becoming ‘a wisdom pilgrim.’”

Amen.

[i] https://www.thetorah.com/article/antiochus-iv-persecution-as-portrayed-in-the-book-of-daniel

[ii] https://open.substack.com/pub/fatherjohndear/p/civil-disobedience-a-spiritual-journey?utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=post%20viewer

 

 

 

Home by Another Way

 

Participating in a nonviolent Moral Monday March in Raleigh NC in 2015

Matthew 2:1-12 NRSV

As many of you know, my wife Lori works downtown at the Free Clinic of Central Virginia which has recently suffered major damage from a fire which was started outside in the parking lot. The building has been condemned and it will take weeks, maybe eve months, before it can be used again. It is a tragic situation as many with low income depend on the clinic not only for healthcare, but for emergency dental services. So, as a church in Lynchburg, it is important that we pray for the staff, and for the Free non-profit’s board of directors, that they will be able to wisely respond to this disaster so they can continue serving this community.

Our church’s support of the Free Clinic seems to be more important when we consider that it was one of our very own, Anne Bishop, who worked with another one of our church members, Jack Scudder, to found the free clinic thirty years ago.

Lori and I had the opportunity to visit with Anne on the Sunday after leading my first worship service here, and I had the honor of officiating Anne’s memorial service just a couple of weeks later. To describe Anne’s trail-blazing, pioneering spirit which led her to start the Free Clinic, during her service, I talked about the unique way that Anne drove a car.

Whenever Anne traveled, she always made sure she returned home by another way. To make the trip more interesting, and to learn more about her surroundings, she was always fond of taking a different route home, even, when she traveled in other country. When she traveled overseas, she would order maps and highlight the roads to make sure she always arrived back to her starting point by another way. Her daughter Kathy said: “After returning a rental car in England, the clerk, who evidently had some type of GPS history on the car, asked: ‘Ma’am, did you drive down every road in Great Britain?’”

It was then that I pointed out that “Home by Another Way” are the exact words that Matthew uses to describe the journey of the wise men after they worshipped Jesus, laying down their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Having been warned in a dream not to return to King Herod as the king had requested, Matthew says they went “home by another way.”

I then pointed out that death is often described as a homecoming or a homegoing, and as people of faith, we believe this journey home called life matters. How we go home makes a difference. Do we go home following the instructions of King Herod? Do we collaborate with the empire, bow down to those in power, accept the status quo, go with the culture? Or do we choose to go home by another way?

Do we go home following the way of power and greed, of fear and violence? Or do we go home following the way of love and generosity, of compassion and of peace?

After King Herod’s encounter with the Wise Ones looking for the child who was said to be “king of the Jews,” Matthew says that King Herod was “afraid.” And then adds: “And all of Jerusalem with him.”

For the nation instinctively knew that if its self-absorbed, narcissistic, authoritarian leader was afraid, everyone should be afraid. Because, as almost always the case with the King Herod’s of the world, fear leads to violence.

Obviously, the Wise Ones sensed Herod’s fear, and knowing his violent reputation and his propensity to stoke and orchestrate violence against the innocents, when they went to bed that night, one, or maybe all of them, had a dream which warned them to go home by another way.

For when it comes to fear and to violence, when it comes to bowing down to authoritarians who stoke fear and promote violence, wise people of faith are always led to go home by another way.

 It was surreal to awakened on the first day of the year to the news of violence in New Orleans. And it certainly didn’t take long for the King Herods of the world to use that violence to stoke even more fear in the nation, scapegoating immigrants, which will certainly lead to more violence.

The good news is, as you may have read in the newsletter this week, our church’s outreach team has proposed that our church use 2025 to go home by another way, by committing ourselves to a movement of nonviolence.

During this first quarter, our church is honored to have the opportunity host Father John Dear, a world-renowned author and advocate for nonviolence who was nominated by Desmond Tutu for the Nobel Peace Prize. As this year’s Turner-Warren/Shumate Lecturer, Father Dear will host a workshop on non-violence on March 22, speak here in this sanctuary the 23rd and at the University of Lynchburg on the 25th.

We may have awakened this year to the news of violence and fear, but we are going to go through this new year by another way, a way of love and grace, a way of truth and compassion, a way of doing justice and making peace. We are going to go through 2025 by a way of nonviolence, a way of living that is encouraged by all the great world religions, as it is rooted in the belief that the creative force of the universe is love; God, God’s self, is love.

Thus, peacemakers like Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. gave their lives teaching that the most important thing that human beings can do is to exercise this creative force by learning to love the way we were created to love. For Gandhi and King, following a way of nonviolence was understood as the science of how we create life in the image of God, how we create a world that practices justice, truth, and compassion.

Dr. King noted that Gandhi was probably the first person in history to lift the love ethic of Jesus above mere interaction between individuals to a powerful and effective “social force on a large scale.” “Love, for Gandhi,” said King, “was a potent instrument for social and collective transformation,” and [the nonviolent resistance philosophy of Gandhi] was the only morally and practically sound method open to oppressed people in their struggle for freedom.”

Dr. King understood that although the way of nonviolence sounds passive and ineffective, it is the most active and effective resistance of evil in the world.

 Through the way nonviolence, courage displaces fear. Love transforms hate. Acceptance dissipates prejudice. Hope ends despair. Peace dominates war. Faith reconciles doubt. Mutual regard cancels enmity. Justice for all overthrows all injustice. And the redemptive community supersedes the systems of gross social immorality.

Nonviolence is not for cowards and passive people but requires much bravery and courage.

Nonviolence is not just a temporary attitude. It’s a full-time way of life. Nonviolence is assertive spiritually, mentally, and emotionally. Nonviolence is always informing and persuading the opponents of justice.

Dorothy Day wrote in 1967 that she regretted that she had not done more to promote nonviolence “as a way of life.” Father John Dear comments: “I think we can all do more to nourish, study, cultivate and promote nonviolence as a way of life, as a spiritual path, as the basis for people in power, as a political methodology for change, and as a hermeneutic for Christian discipleship. Active nonviolence is the best hope for humanity.”

In response to the fear that King Herod possessed and stoked among the people, and to the violence that would surely follow, after paying homage to the baby Jesus, the Wise Men decided to go home by another way, the way of nonviolence. But they were not retreating. They were not running away. And they were not being passive in any way.

Choosing to go home another way was very active resistance. It was a way of telling the world that they would not bow down to King Herod. They would not be attracted to his power, seduced by his fame, duped by his wealth, or conned by his charisma.

And neither are we.

By choosing to go home by another way, the way of nonviolence, we are joining a movement of most active resistance—

One which actively wages peace, not war; passionately fights poverty, not people who are poor; ferociously attacks homelessness, not the homeless; aggressively opposes bigotry, not people who are queer.

We are choosing to go home by a way that dynamically endangers easy gun access, not school children; assiduously admonishes men who attempt to control the bodies of women, not the women who are those bodies.

This way wholeheartedly works to banish unkind immigration policies, not immigrants. It vehemently demands fair living wages, adequate housing, and free access to education and healthcare, not the exact opposite.

We are choosing a way that fervently heals spiritual trauma and never causes it; vigorously protects the environment and doesn’t threaten it; and tirelessly works for justice that is restorative, not punitive.

We are choosing a way that defeats evil, not the evil doers. It destroys fascism, not the fascist. It kills Christian Nationalism and religious extremism, not religious people. It vanquishes the fool heartedness of our neighbors, not our neighbors.

So, you see, this way is not for the coward nor the passive. It is for the courageous and the brave.

And it is also for the wise.

Because choosing the peace-making, compassion-loving, justice-doing way of nonviolence is always our best response to the fear-mongering King Herods of this world, especially when those kings can cause an entire nation to be afraid with them.

The question our gospel lesson asks us today is simply: Will we be wise ones too and choose this way? Will we be brave and courageous and choose to actively resist the King Herods of the world?

I pray we will. Amen.