Matthew 2:1-12
“Where is the King?” It was a good question and it was a good place to ask it. The Wise Men had journeyed from the east to Jerusalem in search of the king whose star they had followed. Jerusalem was, after all, the capitol city of Israel, and was surely the place where the new king would be born. And Herod was the current king, so it made sense that the new king would be found in his palace. And so the Wise Men came, asking, “Where is the King?” It is said that their question caused Herod to be disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. I shouldn’t wonder. After all, apparently Herod had no new king in his palace, nor was he expecting one in the near future. And so he was struck with fear that a rival king might spring up at any time. And Jerusalem had known enough intrigue and assassination over accession to the throne to be wary at the first sign of new trouble.
“Where is the King?” He was not where they expected to find him. Nor was he the kind of king they were looking for.
I have been wondering, if I were to go looking for this King, Jesus Christ, in this time and in this world, where would I find him? Is he even here anywhere? It is a good question, an appropriate question. “Where is the King?”
I thought about some of our fellowship meals before the pandemic put an end to social gatherings. We have gathered around the tables after worship or on a weeknight to eat and enjoy each other’s company. There has been laughter and good conversation, and at some tables we see the youngest members of the congregation sitting beside the oldest members. People enjoyed themselves so much! It seems like there is no fellowship like Christian fellowship. There are no friends like Christian friends. I never have a better time than when I am in a gathering of church family. I remember that Jesus loved to be with his friends for meals. And the first miracle took place when he attended a wedding. You remember, the hosts ran out of wine, a terrible social mishap in that day, and Jesus turned water into wine. You could say that Jesus enjoyed a good party! And I thought about our times of fellowship around the table, and I knew the King was there.
I thought about the Christmas pageant we had one year when I was serving a church in Columbia, SC. People had prepared for it for weeks. The children had been strictly drilled about what to do and when to do it, and what to say and who was to say it. One of the grandfathers worked many long hours cutting out and painting a wooden cow and donkey to be part of the set. I can still remember the gentleness in their eyes. The manger had been carefully rigged with a low watt light bulb, so as to convey the radiance of the Christ-child. The music had been rehearsed and learned, the costumes were made. And finally the big night arrived.
The children came out onto the platform. The shepherds were wearing their father’s bathrobes, which, of course, were too long and dragging on the floor. At the last minute one of the angels refused to wear his wings, because he said it made him look like a sissy. One of the shepherds said she would wear them, because she had wanted to be an angel anyway. Lines were forgotten. It was hard to hear the ones that were said correctly. And right in the middle of the program, one little girl peered into the manger and announced at the top of her voice, “Hey, there’s no baby in there!” And yet, when it was all said and done, I am sure that the King was there, too. I remembered how he scolded his disciples when they tried to keep the children away from him. He took them onto his lap and held them. He said that the kingdom of heaven was made of such as these. Jesus liked to be with children, in spite of, or because of, the fact that they are loud and messy and unpredictable. Yes, the King was there.
I thought about the months that my brother was serving in the Navy during the Persian Gulf War. Many of my colleagues loudly protested that we were even involved in the war. The media made it sound like a glorious effort to set people free. The CNN reporters seemed like old friends before it was all over with. But my brother and my family knew that there was not much that was glorious about being at war. There was fear and danger and the constant awareness that my brother, and other young men, could be killed serving their country. My brother wrote me a letter describing how his ship had come upon the body of a downed pilot in the Gulf, and he was in such bad shape that they didn’t even know whose side he was on. And I remember the thirty hours that it took after his ship struck an underwater mine before we knew that he was safe. I knew the King was with my brother. You see, Jesus didn’t dismiss or ignore those serving in the military or tell them there was something wrong with them serving their country. In the two stories where Jesus had encounters with Roman centurions, Jesus praised their faith. Yes, the King was there in the Persian Gulf with my brother, and he is with all those who serve in the armed forces today.
I thought about Anna. She had been married to “her David” for over forty years. She always called him that, “my David.” They were so dependent on each other. They seemed like they were one. One of them would start a sentence, and the other would finish it. They never argued, though they both had strong personalities. They would discuss, and usually they would do whatever Anna thought best. They loved each other in a way that is uncommon. Then one day “her David” died and Anna was left alone. It was hard to imagine one without the other. She wondered how she would make it without him. But the King helped her get through her grief. He was there when they buried “her David,” and he grieved with her, just as he had grieved with Mary and Martha after the death of their brother, Lazarus. Yes, the King was there with Anna. And he is with all those who are grieving today, the hundreds of thousands of those who lost someone to COVID, and all those others whose loved ones died of disease or accident. The King is with those who grieve.
I thought about the man who lay alone in a hospital room dying of AIDS in the early 1990s. His family had disowned him years before when he told them he was gay. He didn’t even know if they knew he was dying. His friends had become more and more afraid to visit him, because they were afraid of catching the virus by being in the same room with him. The nurses who took care of him covered themselves from head to toe with surgical gown, gloves, shoes, hat, mask, and they performed the tasks that were essential as quickly as possible, then they fled. It was a lonely way to die, of a disease that killed not only the body but the spirit, as he was ostracized by society and by his friends.
One night an older nurse happened to be on duty. She was different from the others. She would talk to him, and she seemed to really care about him. She came into his room that night and asked if there was anything she could do for him. He looked up at her, with tears in his eyes, and asked, “Would you just hold me?” Silently, she sat down on the edge of the bed, held his thin body next to hers, and began to gently rock him. He died in her arms. Surely the King was there. I remember that Jesus spent time with the lepers, even touching them, talking to them, and showing them that he cared. Yes, Jesus was there. And he is in every hospital room where COVID patients are lying tonight, and with every healthcare professional who takes care of them.
“Where is the King?” He is in many places, some of which we don’t expect him in. When there is kindness being done, we can be sure the King is there. Where there is grace being offered, he is there too. Where someone is afraid and needs a hand to hold or a shoulder to cry on, and someone is there for him, the King is with them. Where the hungry are fed, where the prisoners are visited, where the poor are taken care of, where the outsiders are made to feel welcome, the King is there. Where God is worshiped in spirit and in truth, whether by two or three or by a thousand, whether in a crystal cathedral or a small country church, the King is there. Where there is one heart reaching out to touch another, the King is there.
“Where is the King?” You can find him at gatherings around the table, whether we are eating together in the fellowship hall at church or serving in a soup kitchen. You can find the King with young men and women who go out to war, and where families are at home worrying about them. You will find him in the nursing home, where a lady who is blind and deaf will tell you she knows God is in charge and has a purpose for her life. You can find the King in Sunday School classes where teachers share the love of God with young hearts and minds. You can find him in carols around the piano after Christmas dinner, or in the flames of the candles on the church altar, or in the face of the baby Jesus in your Nativity set.
“Where is the King?” He is confronting the hypocrisy of the religious and pointing out the faith of the sinners. He is confounding the wisdom of the philosophers with his simple statements of truth. The King is asking difficult questions that make you examine what you believe and why you believe it. He is pointing out the log in your eye that you missed while looking for the speck in mine. The King is hanging around with people I would lose my job for associating with, prostitutes, partygoers, and the kind of people who hang around in pool halls drinking beer.
“Where is the King?” He is in the words of the Mass spoken at the Vatican, and he is in the melodies of the praise songs sung around the fire at youth camp. He is the voice of a child asking, “Why?” He is in churches and schools, houses and tents. He is in every nation among every people. The King’s face is white and black, bronze and olive. He speaks English, French, Russian, and Swahili. He is everywhere.
When you look for the King, and I hope that you do, where will you find him? Will you see him in your home, in the faces who gather around the dinner table? Will he be in our Zoom worship services? Will he be in the hand we hold out to help another? Will he be in the faces of the children sledding down the hill? Will the King be found in your heart?
“Where is the King?” I hope you find him. But remember – sometimes the King is where you least expect him to be.
