The Epiphany, 3 January 2016, Sparkford
‘They knelt down and paid him homage.’
Now to the historically-minded among us the story of the visit of the wise men to the newborn baby Jesus leaves many things unanswered; but the truths in the story go far deeper than what is provable, than what is dateable, and so on. The great truths of the story of the wise men’s visit rest in what the story demonstrates about the characters and their relationships.
Three kings knelt before the newborn baby Jesus. Whether or not they were actual kings, Matthew encouraged his readers to see them in that way; because Matthew’s truth is that a king was being born, a king so great that other kings travelled from far away to kneel before him.
More accurately, the term ‘kings’ is translated ‘wise men’. So three wise men knelt before the newborn baby Jesus. Whether or not there were three of them, or that they were exclusively men, Matthew wants us to grasp that these were people of great spiritual wisdom and insight, following a divine hunch; because Matthew’s truth is that a wise leader had been born, so wise that pilgrims of great spiritual wisdom travelled from far away to revere him.
Wise men on their knees… that’s the image at the core of Matthew’s myth. That’s the posture we place them in, in our crib scenes and our nativity plays. Wise men kneeling before the baby Jesus.
Now, in our day and age, kneeling isn’t done very much at all. Kneeling before another person is a marginal gesture; it’s exceptional. It’s almost frowned on. We suspect that kneeling means us subjugating ourselves to another person - and that won’t do, because in our day and age we want to affirm that we are all equals, we want to celebrate our equality and maintain our dignity before others.
No longer do subjects kowtow to their ruler, prostrate themselves before the emperor or king; royal etiquette today requires only that, when meeting a member of the Royal Family, men make a small bow of the head and women do a modest curtsy. [1]
But why, in a Christian society, this discomfort with kowtowing to rulers? Maybe this is a legacy of the teachings of the adult Jesus which have seeped into our consciousness over the centuries. For Jesus was never one for propping up social conventions which raised up some and diminished others. ‘The greatest among you will be your servant’, Jesus told his followers. ‘All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.’ [2]
In his book “A Brief History of Thought,” the secular humanist and French philosopher Luc Ferry writes that in contrast with the Greek understanding of humanity, “Christianity was to introduce the notion that humanity was fundamentally identical, that men were equal in dignity - an unprecedented idea at the time, and one to which our world owes its entire democratic inheritance.” … [At the heart of Matthew’s story of the baby Jesus is the good news that God has chosen to participate in the great drama of the world], not in the role of a conquering king but as a suffering servant, not with the intention to condemn the world but to redeem it. [Jesus] saw the inestimable worth of human life, regardless of social status, wealth and worldly achievements, intelligence or national origin. So should we. [3]
When you read the gospel stories of people kneeling before Jesus to ask him to heal them or their loved ones, you notice how keen he was to perform the healing and get them back up on their feet; when you read the exchanges that Jesus had with his disciples about who he was, you notice how intent he was to play down the idea that he might be a messiah or a king, how keen he was to call himself a son of man, a human one. And when you look through Matthew’s gospel to see who else knelt at Jesus’ feet, besides the wise men and those who came to him for healing, the only other ones who did were the soldiers of Pilate who knelt before Jesus as part of their cruel mocking of him, shouting ‘Hail, King of the Jews’ in their vicious satire. [4]
[Jesus’s mission was to show all human beings that we] have worth because we are valued by God, who took on flesh, entered our world, and shared our experiences - love, joy, compassion and intimate friendships; anger, sorrow, suffering and tears. For Christians, God is not distant or detached; he is a God of wounds. All of this elevated the human experience and laid the groundwork for the ideas of individual dignity and inalienable rights. [5]
In this respect, you might say, it was Jesus who came and ‘knelt’ beside us; Jesus who placed himself where we are, even, and especially, those of us who are on our knees.
There is one occasion in our culture when kneeling before someone is still regarded as ‘the right thing to do’. It’s an old-fashioned ritual but it’s still the expected thing to do. It’s the marriage proposal.
You’ve seen it countless time on films and TV. You’ve maybe even done it yourself. Got down on one knee, drawn out the little box containing the engagement ring, and asked your loved one for their hand in marriage.
Now getting down on one knee is an important part of this age-old ritual which we still practice and love. But we might ask, does it mean the same thing as it would if we prostrated ourselves before a king or queen, or bishop? It’s not a gesture to do with submitting to someone of higher rank, power or authority. Rather, it’s a gesture which expresses love and devotion for the other.
You’re not kneeling down before that person because they’re your social superior, you’re kneeling down before them because they’re the focus of your desire. And you’re usually confident that you’re the focus of their desire too, that the feeling is mutual. So, a little nervously nevertheless you trust: that their desire is the same as your desire and, hallelujah! - they say ‘yes’.
Have you noticed how fewer people kneel for prayer in church today? Maybe the reason for that has a lot to do with our sore backs and dodgy knees; I’ll never forget the day I was ordained in Liverpool Cathedral when seventeen of us lined up together to kneel before the bishop for a very long and increasingly painful twenty-five minutes or more; most of us well past our youth - the clicks and creaks and groans of pain when we all got back up on our feet.
Maybe there’s been a subtle change in our attitude about prayer, whereby we’re less comfortable with displaying our reverence, submission and deference even towards God. Or perhaps we tend not to kneel for prayer in church today because something of what Jesus taught about deference has finally sunk in. The lesson that he never asked us to make a great show of submitting to someone of higher rank, power or authority. It’s not on his radar.
But if we do want to kneel before Jesus in prayer, we do it in the way of the marriage proposal: we do it to express our love and devotion for him. We’re prostrating ourself before Jesus not as our demanding social superior, but as the human one who, in his love for us, makes us fully human. We’re kneeling at his feet because quite simply he is the focus of our desire, and we look up into his eyes in love.
And every single time we give ourselves to Jesus in this way - whether by actually kneeling, or just by kneeling in our hearts in prayer - we find that his desire for us matches our desire for him and, hallelujah! - we feel him, hear him, see him, saying ‘yes’ to us, in love.
Maybe, after all, this was exactly what the wise men were doing in that story of Matthew. The gold, frankincense and myrrh were only outward signs; in their kneeling down before him the wise men were showing that what they were really giving Jesus, was their heart, confident that his heart’s desire was for them.
So can we make these words our prayer as we begin this new year together:
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.
… the words of the hymn writer Christina Rossetti, which we now stand to sing… [6]
Notes
[1] Wikipedia: Kowtow; The official website of the British Monarchy: Greeting a member of The Royal Family.
[2] Matthew 23.11-12.
[3] Peter Wehner, The Christmas Revolution, New York Times, December 25, 2015.
[4] Matthew 27.27-31.
[5] Peter Wehner, The Christmas Revolution, New York Times, December 25, 2015, referencing theologian Steve Hayner.
[6] Christina Rossetti, In the bleak midwinter.
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