The writer of Luke told about how Jesus was born to poor parents, that he arrived in a stable/barn, and that his first visitors were equally poor people – shepherds – propelled there by the most amazing thing ever, a chorus of angels whose singing filled the heavens. Luke’s Jesus came from the poor, to the poor….to make it clear where God’s focus was and is. Today, we talk about what the writer of Matthew chose to tell. And Matthew saw something different than the others did. This does not make what the others wrote wrong. No one is wrong here. These stories about Jesus’ birth are not about facts, but they ARE about truth. Truths as perceived by the storytellers. And this is what the writer of Matthew saw. A note: it is awkward to keep saying “the writer of Matthew” – so I’m just going to say “Matthew” – but please be aware, nobody knows who wrote any of the Gospels. They were assigned names early on, to be able to keep track of them, just like you might title any book. But we don’t really know. And, again, we aren’t here for facts. We’re here for the truths these stories reveal. And Matthew saw some big ones. First, it is important to know that Matthew wrote from within the Jewish community. He knew Jewish thought and Jewish practice, and he also knew that Jesus – in his life, his healings, his practices and his teachings – he knew that Jesus was a challenge to the Jews of his time. An important challenge. A good challenge. Matthew knew that Jesus’ ways were upsetting and that a lot of people, especially powerful people, did not want to be upset. In fact, if they could have made Jesus just go away, they would have done that. Matthew knew that. So as he told Jesus’ story, Matthew saw how others recognized Jesus, and Jesus’ importance, long before most Jews did. These others – named ‘Gentiles’ to separate them from the Jews, the chosen people of God – these others were open to what God might do among them. These others were not proscribed from watching the heavens. Neither were they hampered by being unable to imagine God doing something as weird and as radical as coming to earth as one of us. So Matthew put those open-to-the-new Gentiles front and center in his story. These Gentiles were magi, astrologers, to explain why they were looking at the heavens; and they were wealthy, obviously, because poor people would never be able to afford the trip and because they brought significant gifts with them: gold – a gift fit for a king; frankincense – burned as offering to a deity; and myrrh, used as a painkiller, and rare. Those gifts foretell much of Jesus’ story, about who he is and who he will become. Matthew had those gifts come from Gentile hands. In the same vein as the old saying, “No one is a prophet in their home town,” Matthew had outsiders recognize Jesus. Because Matthew knew that the insiders, the Jews, were going to have a much harder time doing so. And how did Matthew represent the Jewish response to Jesus? Matthew used King Herod – ruthless, power-worshipping Herod. We’re told that “King Herod…was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him” (v. 3) when Herod heard what the wise ones said about this child. This child is going to un-seat you, take away your power, make you as naught. Herod was frightened about what Jesus’s birth meant for his power….and all Jerusalem was frightened because they were scared of Herod, and what he might do in his fear and his rage. They were afraid of what would happen if their carefully balanced status quo were overturned by this amazing happening. We think of Jesus’ coming as a good thing, a wondrous thing, a happy thing. They thought of Jesus’ coming as upsetting the life they had. People knew what to expect of their leadership, of their priests and scribes, of the Pharisees and Sadduccees. They knew how to maneuver their way through the competing power bases and politics. They knew how to survive. And they thought that Jesus would mess all of that up. What Matthew saw was fear: fear of the new, fear of the different, fear of change. And, truth to tell, we are not different from the Jews of Matthew’s story. We, too, fear change. We like to have some sense of control over our lives. We like some predictability. We want our days to be as easy as they can be. And yet, we’re Christians. We follow Jesus. And we know from the Gospel stories, all of them, that Jesus was and is not much interested in predictability or ease or having control. Jesus asks us to be aware of our neighbors’ experience and to care about it. Jesus asks us to look around and ask why this neighbor is hungry or that neighbor has no safe shelter. Jesus asks us to consider what it means to be a brown or black person that ICE might snatch off the street, regardless of whether that person is in this country legally or not. Jesus tells us it is better to serve than to be served. Jesus pushes us to wonder about the merits of an economic system that makes a few so rich and that keeps so many so poor. Jesus is not quiet, he is not meek, he’s a trouble-maker. So we can sympathize with the Jews of Matthew’s story. Because we would be frightened, too. And frankly, a lot of the time we still are. How else do we explain how we haven’t done all the things that Jesus has told us to do? Maybe we need a New Year’s Resolution, that instead of thinking of the magi as these strange characters from far away who show up, give gifts and then disappear again – maybe instead we need to think of them as role models. Role models of what it means to follow God’s invitation to the new; of what it means to confront the powerful and do the necessary thing, regardless of outcome; what it means to seek truth, no matter what its shape or situation. Maybe we need to become wise ones, too.