Scripture: Matthew 2:1-12
The Visit of the Wise Men
1In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, 2 asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” 3 When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; 4 and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. 5 They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
6 ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”
7 Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. 8 Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” 9 When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. 10 When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. 11 On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 12 And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
Story: “The Lion who Feared,” written by Roger L. Robbinnolt (slightly adapted) Retold by Rev. Dr. Marlayna Schmidt
[Note: This story follows the story told on Christmas Eve about a unicorn visiting the manger.]
The lion had spent most of his life developing his roar. He was not a happy beast. His father had given him little attention as a cub—being intent upon strengthening his own position as the king of all the beasts in the immediate area through skilled lionic diplomacy. His mother was a dreamer who spent hours [each day] watching imaginary landscapes in the clouds and wishing she were there. His brothers and sisters teased him unmercifully because one front leg was a bit shorter than the other. He rolled in an odd way as he walked.
The lion became a loner. He spent hours [each day] hidden in a cave developing a ferocious roar. When he was ready, he stood at the top of a low hill. The sound of his angry voice reverberated off the nearby cliffs. Shepherds gathered their flocks in anxious knots. Ravens dropped from flight in sheer fright.
The lion was pleased. He too could rule the countryside. He would not reign by his father’s diplomacy but with the weapon of fear.
His tactic worked. Sheepherders put extra sharp-horned rams on guard duty with the flocks. As the lion’s roar engulfed fields and villages, unwise parents would say to troubled children, “You do what I tell you, or I’ll leave you out for the lion to eat!”
One cold winter’s day, the troubled beast stood on a hilltop watching unusually large crowds of people streaming toward the nearby town [of Bethlehem.] He kept a sharp eye out for straying pack animals. He saw none. His hunger deepened.
When night fell, he quietly crept toward a flock of sheep, trying to avoid the guardian rams whose sharp horns could slit open the belly of a lion. If he was lucky, he might sneak up on a lost sheep.
At that moment, the night silence was [suddenly] embroidered with angelic songs heard more in the heart than the ear. When the sky blazed, the lion momentarily wished for his mother. She would have loved the display. The lion saw the shepherds embrace in fear and hope. When he sensed the words concerning a babe born in Bethlehem, he saw the shepherds choose prize lambs from the flock and, leaving a ram in charge, rush toward the village. The lion followed. Surely something edible would stray into his path.
Just outside the city limits he observed three camels coming down a nearby road. Their riders were richly dressed. The lion paused, gathered all his strength, and let out the loudest, most ferocious roar of his entire life.
The camels bolted. One rider dropped a small, ornately carved chest, which bounced down a steep slope in the darkness. After a great distance, the riders controlled their mounts and turned them again toward Bethlehem.
The roar caused quaking in the village inhabitants and guests a like. The couple in the stable clutched their child tightly and the kneeling shepherds hugged their lambs.
The lion limped fiercely down the main thoroughfare. Shouts of “The lion is coming! The lion is coming!” echoed through the town. Rocks and spears were readied. [But it was dark, and the lion walked in the shadows of the buildings, so no one could see him well enough to take aim.]
The beast followed the scent of shepherds and lambs toward the stable behind the inn.
As he continued to slink down the cobblestone path, he found his way blocked by a unicorn with a golden horn. The lion paused. If he could avoid the horn, a fine feast surely awaited him. He paused for a moment to consider what a mythological beast might do to his digestive system, but he was hungry enough to eat anything.
The unicorn sang a soothing song:
Come now in peace,
O mighty beast,
I care for you;
Come now in peace.
Instead of listening, the lion gave another mighty roar and leaped at the unicorn. The unicorn dodged to one side—but not far enough. The lion’s claw caught him on the flank and flipped him end over end, his horn jamming itself into a crack between the stones. [The horn broke—and began to bleed.]
Landing, the lion turned in a single movement, preparing to spring again. He saw the bleeding unicorn huddled on the ground. It still sang in a quiet voice:
Come now in peace,
O mighty beast,
I care for you;
Come now in peace.
Perhaps it was weakness from hunger. Perhaps it was lifelong aloneness. Perhaps it was the interweaving of the angels’ song and the unicorn’s. But the lion cried until his hard heart broke. Beating within it he discovered the heart of love that lies deep within all living creatures.
The unicorn struggled to his side and said, “Great beast, come with me.” The limping lion allowed himself to be led through the stable door. Light from the great star washed the marks of the lion’s claw from the unicorn’s flank.
The song swelled with the addition of the voices of the man and the woman by the manger and the counterpoint of the cooing child.
Come now in peace,
O mighty beast,
We care for you;
Come now in peace.
The lion and the unicorn knelt at the manger.
The heavy clop of camel hooves sounded on the stable path. The great lumbering animals appeared, with their richly cloaked riders.
The man in the lead commented mournfully to his companions, “You have your frankincense and myrrh to offer to the young king in the manger crib. I lost my gift of gold to the lion’s roar. I come sad-hearted and empty-handed.”
Then he spied something at the edge of the cobblestone path glowing in the starlight. Dismounting, he picked it up, and shouted, “I have a gift for the long-sought [king]!”
His compatriots climbed down from their saddles. Together they entered the stable and knelt in the empty places, which seemed to be awaiting their arrival to the holy scene. The cow nodded her approval.
[The unicorn’s song welcomed them too,
Come now in peace,
O mighty ones,
God cares for you;
Come now in peace.]
Amen.