It wasn’t
supposed to end this way. When the Magi left their homes in the east, they
never envisioned the trouble that they ran into at the end of their journey.
I’m sure that they were prepared for the problems that everyone encounters
along a trip – rivers that must be crossed, roads that are closed for one
reason or another, even the need to watch out for bandits – but I doubt if they
were prepared for what they found at Herod’s palace: a tyrant who was
determined to hold on to his own throne against all comers, especially a child
who was no child of his.
The Magi
were wise in more ways than one. When Herod asked them to come back and tell
him where they found the child so that he, too, might worship this new king,
they must have known that worship was the last thing on his mind; and when they
avoided Jerusalem on their way back home, they probably hoped that Herod would
forget the whole thing. But Herod didn’t forget; and when the Magi didn’t come
back, he decided that he would take care of this new King of the Jews in his
own way – by murdering all the young boys in the area of Bethlehem who were the
right age. That’s what happened in the end: a bloodbath (Matthew 2:13-18).
The world is
still full of Herods who don’t care a fig for truth and justice, but are
concerned only about their own power. If you don’t believe me, just look at the
life and ministry of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Dr. King saw the truth
that all people are equal in God’s eyes. He saw, too, the injustice that African-Americans
were considered by many to be less than human; so he cried out for justice on
their behalf. In his day, black men were lynched for daring to even look at a
white woman; black children were forced to attend second-rate schools; and all
blacks were barred from “whites only” restaurants, hotels, and places of
entertainment. Although Dr. King insisted on resisting non-violently, the Herods
of his time used all manner of violence to try to stop him. People advocating
for voting rights for blacks were killed, or simply disappeared, never to be
seen again. Black students insisting on being served at a whites-only lunch
counter were dragged off to jail. Peaceful protesters were attacked with police
dogs and water from fire hoses. Four innocent young black girls sitting in
Sunday school were killed when their Birmingham, Alabama church was bombed on a
Sunday morning. Dr. King’s cries for justice cost him his own life on a balcony
in Memphis, Tennessee, where he was supporting black sanitary public works
employees in their struggle for higher wages and equal treatment.
All of it
was, of course, about power. Herod, just like the Herod of Jesus’ time, was
afraid losing the power that he had. Of course, we didn’t call him “Herod” back
in Dr. King’s day. We called him “Jim Crow laws.” Those laws sanctioned
“separate but equal” school systems that weren’t equal at all, ensuring that
blacks had no access to quality education. Those laws enforced voting
restrictions, ensuring that blacks couldn’t vote for the candidate of their
choice. Those laws enforced the separation of blacks and whites, ensuring that
blacks would be kept “in their place.” I’m sorry to say that Herod is still
alive and well – not in the form of “Jim Crow” laws (which are now illegal), but
in the form of the Ku Klux Klan, and white power organizations like the Aryan
Brotherhood. These folks hate not only African-Americans, but Jews and Latinos,
too, especially immigrants. Oh, yes, Herod is alive and well in anyone who
clings to their own power at the expense of others.
Now, you
might be wondering what all this history has to do with us today, and why I am
including it in my sermon. You might even be thinking that it doesn’t have
anything to do with our lives or our relationship with Jesus. I’ll let Dr. King
himself answer that objection. “Any religion,” he said, “that professes to be
concerned about the souls of men and is not concerned about the slums that damn
them, the economic conditions that strangle them, and the social conditions that
cripple them is a spiritually moribund religion awaiting burial.” Dr. King’s
ministry as he tried to faithfully follow Jesus Christ was his continuing struggle
against the Herod that oppressed African-Americans. He often remarked that he
would much rather be a local church pastor, comforting the afflicted of a congregation;
but he discerned that his calling was to a more difficult ministry of
afflicting the comfortable. His non-violent methods of resistance mirrored the
teachings of Jesus. And he insisted time and time again that he did not hate
those who hated him. “Hate is too great a burden to bear,” he said. “I have
decided to love.” In Dr. King’s eyes, the church was the agent of the
transformative power of God; and nothing could be achieved without loving as
Jesus loved. “Love,” he insisted, “is the only force capable of turning an
enemy into a friend.” A few days before his murder, Dr. King talked about how
he would like to be remembered. “I’d like someone to mention,” he said, “that Martin
Luther King, Jr. tried to give his life serving others. I’d like for somebody
to say that Martin Luther King, Jr. tried to love somebody. I want you to be
able to say that day that I did try to feed the hungry. I want you to say that
I tried to love and serve humanity.”
Friends,
struggling against Herod is not only the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr;
it is also our call as followers of Jesus Christ. Wherever people are
oppressed, or marginalized, or kept silent, that is where the church must be:
standing in solidarity with them and lifting our voices against Herod, who craves
to hang onto his power. And make no mistake, Herod is still around today. Herod
exists in the form of hate-mongers who deface the walls of synagogues and
mosques, splashing swastikas and hate-filled graffiti where our non-Christian
sisters and brothers worship. Herod is anyone who doesn’t care if some people
are forced to live in sub-standard housing where the paint is filled with lead
and the plaster is filled with mold, as long as their lives are comfortable. Herod
doesn’t even care if entire cities drink polluted water, as long as he and his
friends can live in penthouse suites, travel on personal jets, and draw
inflated salaries. Oh, yes, Herod is still around; and we are called to speak
out against him, whoever he may be and wherever he may be found. It may not be
easy, and we won’t be popular; but no less than Jesus, one who suffered at the
hands of Herod himself, has told us to do it. On this weekend that remembers
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., I can think of no finer tribute to him than to
rededicate ourselves to the work that he began of freeing the oppressed and
bringing hope to the downtrodden. I leave you with a thought from the Mishnah, a
part of the Jewish oral tradition: “You are not obligated to complete the work,
but neither are you free to abandon it.” Let’s honor Dr. King this year by helping
to complete the work that he began.
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