Past Sermon

Sermon Title: "A Camel On The Roof "
Date: January 8, 2006
Minister: Rev. Charles E. Ensley, Jr.

Lesson:  Matthew 2:1-12

There is a story from a collection of the lives of saints—the saints of Islam, that is—which concerns a king of what is now northern Afghanistan named Ebrahim ibn Adam.  Ebrahim was wealthy according to every earthly measure.  At the same time, however, he sincerely and restlessly strove to be wealthy spiritually as well.

One night the king was roused from sleep by a fearful stumping on the roof above his bed.  Alarmed, he shouted:  “Who’s there?”  “A friend,” came the reply from the roof.  “I’ve lost my camel.”  Perturbed by such stupidity, Ebrahim screamed:  “You fool!  Are you looking for a camel on the roof?”  “You fool!” the voice from the roof answered.  “Are you looking for God in silk clothing, and lying on a golden bed?”  The story goes on to tell how these simple words filled the king with such terror that he arose from his sleep to become a most remarkable saint.

The camel on the roof raises the Epiphany question, “Where are you looking for God?”  This compelling question of life properly stands at the beginning of a new year, just as “Where have you found God?” would nicely serve as a reflection at year’s closing.  Yet even though Matthew’s story of the wise men’s visit never even mentions a camel—did you ever notice that?!—it raises the camel-on-the-roof question.  It is a reminder that God is not to be found where the world’s princes and powers reside.  It calls us to be like the king’s friend, willing to make a fool of ourselves asking the camel-on-the-roof question to a world busy seeking God in all the wrong places, willing to rouse the world with the message of “Arise, shine, for your light has come.”

While I’ve preached on the wise men’s visit a couple of dozen times, I always find something new when I do my research.  Scholars do not believe they were really kings, as when we sing, “We Three Kings.”  One clue is that Herod met with them secretly.  We understand that Herod was very up on protocol, especially when it was in his best interests.  If they had been true kings come to call on him, he would have received them publicly and royally in his court.  Also, when he commands them to go find this child, no king would command any other kings—his equals—in such a manner.

It is strange that these magi, astrologers, seekers after stars, would inquire where to find the child born to be King of the Jews at the very palace of the one considered to be the political ruler of the Jews.  They were, in effect, asking the old king where to find the new king!  No wonder he felt threatened.  Don’t be fooled by his saccharine-sweet plea to the wise men, “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.”

The wise men look for a king in the palace, yet find him in a manger, or so we imagine.  When did they arrive, and was Jesus still in the stable?

Do you remember last week, when Mary and Joseph went to the temple 40 days after Jesus was born, they could not offer a sacrificial lamb.  They had to take the poverty clause, and offered instead two young pigeons.  If the wise men had already visited, the parents would have been wealthy and weighed down by their magnificent gifts.  And the wise men had to visit sometime within two years of Jesus’ birth, for Herod lived only two years after that.

These studied wise men from countries afar did all they could to ascertain when and where this Messiah was to be born, and so did Herod.  Many of us try to find God and solve the problems of life by logical, calculating schemes that insure we receive our share.  But God is to be found in receiving, not grasping;  in giving, not claiming our rights.  The wise men are to be admired for their seeking and their true homage; Herod is not.

Matthew’s story is suggestive:  God’s ministers and prime ministers, the friends and fools of the world, have a light to shine in the darkness, an illumination from God that can raise the roof of the world’s kings and princes, presidents and prime ministers.  As we study the economics of our nation, one thing is sure:  more and more people are trying to find a way to God by climbing the ladders of success and power and respectability.  In the transition from the twentieth to twenty-first century, the pursuit of money and power has become one of the most powerful mystery religions ever to show its face in the history of humanity.  Look at the Enron scandal, the Adelphia Cable/Rigas family mismanagement of funds, or the fall of Congressman Cunningham representing San Diego.  Whenever a congressional representative accepts a Rolls Royce, one ought to be suspicious.

This makes it all the more imperative that the Epiphany News is that God is found in incarnation, in the humility of birth in a stable.  As startling as a camel on a roof is the Christian message that the vulnerability of a life of homelessness, and the suffering of death on a cross, are heralded as marks of God's most powerful work in the human life.  The Gospels and ministry of Jesus remind us that light has come upon the “little ones” to share with the “learned,” a light more brilliant than the pillar of cloud by day or the pillar of fire by night, more brilliant than a “thousand points of light” shining in the darkness.  Christians are called to offer a ministry of light and a message of illumination to those in power.

And what is this message?  Isaiah said it:  “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.” (60:1)  From what direction does it come?  Not from economics or the wealth of nations.  Not from education or the wisdom of the world.  Not from science or technology.  Not from humankind’s wars or one nation’s attempt to overtake another.  The magi point us to where the world's best hope, the world’s only salvation comes:  bowing before the Christ who is found and served in “the places that stink and where no one loves,” which is St. Theresa’s definition of hell.

I would like to conclude with the closing paragraphs of Henry van Dyke’s 1896 story, The Other Wise Man.  Artaban had sold all his possessions so that he might offer a sapphire, a ruby and a pearl to the Holy Child.  Yet he was delayed in meeting the three wise men because he stopped to aid a man left for dead in the road.  When he arrived too late for his rendezvous with the others, he had to sell his sapphire to finance his journey.  Artaban had heard the child might be born in Bethlehem, so he traveled across the desert, but he arrived too late to see him, hearing only tales from a new mother nursing her infant son.  As Herod’s troops came through to slaughter the infant boys, Artaban next turned over his ruby to secure the baby’s safety.

On to Egypt in search of the Messiah, then traveling around 33 years until he ended up an old man in Jerusalem on the day of the crucifixion.  On his way to Calvary, a girl fell at his feet and pleaded with him to pay her father’s debt so she wouldn’t be sold into slavery.  Artaban gave her his final treasure, the pearl, to secure her freedom.  At that moment, a great earthquake occurred as Jesus was crucified.  Here’s how van Dyke concludes his story: 

One more lingering pulsation of the earthquake quivered through the ground.  A heavy tile, shaken from the roof, fell and struck the old man on the temple.  He lay breathless and pale, with his gray head resting on the young girl’s shoulder, and the blood trickling from the wound.  As she bent over him, fearing that he was dead, there came a voice through the twilight, very small and still, like music sounding from a distance, in which the notes are clear but the words are lost.  The girl turned to see if some one had spoken from the window above them, but she saw no one.

Then the old man’s lips began to move, as if in answer, and she heard him say in the Parthian tongue:

“Not so, my Lord!  For when saw I thee a hungered and fed thee?  Or thirsty, and gave thee drink?  When saw I thee a stranger, and took thee in?  Or naked, and clothed thee?  When saw I thee sick or in prison, and came unto thee?  Three-and-thirty years have I looked for thee; but I have never seen thy face, nor ministered to thee, my King.”

He ceased, and the sweet voice came again.  And again the maid heard it, very faint and far away.  But now it seemed as though she understood the words:

“Verily I say unto thee, Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me.” (Matthew 25:40)

A calm radiance of wonder and joy lighted the pale face of Artaban like the first ray of dawn, on a snowy mountain-peak.  A long breath of relief exhaled gently from his lips.

His journey was ended.  His treasures were accepted.  The Other Wise Man had found the King.

The Epiphany question remains, “Where are you looking for God?”