Opening Our Treasure Chests

January 5, 2014

Matthew 2:1-12

 The Christmas presents have been opened, exchanged, returned, or packed away for next year’s “regifting.” The tree has either been dragged to the curb or is so dry you’re afraid to turn the lights on for fear of spontaneous combustion. Christmas decorations have disappeared from store shelves, already replaced by Valentine’s candy, St. Patrick’s Day hats, and Easter baskets. Christmas has come and gone.

And once again, the church is behind the times! Everything around us says Christmas is over, and here in the church it’s Epiphany Sunday, the day we celebrate the arrival of the magi, the wise men.

Much speculation regarding this story has taken place over the centuries. Was there really a star, and was it in the east or did the magi see it when they were in the east? Was it a comet or a conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn or—I even heard tell of it—a UFO? Were they really considered wise by most in their community, or were they the tarot card readers of the day? Were there three wise men just because three gifts were named? And what about those gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh?

Much has been made about those gifts and what they meant. We always assume that the first gift, gold, represented wealth. That one seems easy. The second gift, frankincense, was a perfume or incense. In Jesus’ time frankincense often was burned whenever a lamb was being sacrificed in the temple, so preachers often have said that frankincense represented Jesus’ future role as sacrifice for our sins. Finally, the magi gave Jesus myrrh, another fragrance, often used to embalm bodies and was given to medicate those in pain, particularly at crucifixion. This gift, more than the others, spoke of what was to come for Jesus.

So what did the wise guys bring? Symbols of wealth, sacrifice, and death. Not such great baby gifts, from my way of thinking.

I always assumed they packed those gifts before leaving home, with the intent of giving them to the child. But in reading the text more closely, I’m not sure that’s the case. The story says, “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.” Opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts. Maybe gold, frankincense, and myrrh were simply what they had in their treasure chests.

After all, gold wasn’t nearly as valuable then as it is now. It wasn’t as rare then—in fact, it was quite plentiful in nearby areas. They used tons of it to build the temple. Its most common use was in jewelry and ornaments. Gold wasn’t valued because it was expensive or rare—it was valued because it was beautiful. Maybe the magi had it with them because it was their jewelry, or maybe it was to be used as gifts in their travels or to be traded for a night’s stay.

Frankincense comes from the Boswellia tree in the form of resin. Easterners used the resin as medicine, particularly to aid in digestion, heal wounds, and purify the atmosphere from germs. Burning frankincense even repels mosquitoes, protecting people from mosquito-borne diseases. This would have been very helpful on a road trip.

Then there was myrrh. Over the centuries, myrrh has been used to treat kidney dysfunction, stomach pain, circulatory problems, and—when combined with frankincense—as an ointment for arthritis. Another helpful thing to take on a trip.[1]

So what if, instead of intending to bring the Christ Child such strange gifts, they simply opened their treasure chests and gave what they had, what they valued? Immediately upon seeing the baby, they knelt down and worshipped. Their worship, their awe, led them to generosity. It led them to give the best of what they had.

I like this because I don’t have gold, frankincense, and myrrh to offer. I have a little money—ten percent of my income. I have time—too much of which I waste playing on Facebook. I have some writing skills and a voice, to speak or to sing—which I try to use for God’s glory but sometimes have the nagging suspicion that it’s not always about God. I have a tendency toward sarcasm—I’m not sure how God can use that—and a desire to help others find their way in God. That’s what is in my treasure chest. It’s all I have to give.

I have learned that it’s enough.

It was a Saturday, about three years ago, and I was sitting on my sofa, attempting to write a sermon. It wasn’t going particularly well. I remember I was just getting some rhythm going, just starting to feel like I had an idea where the sermon was headed, when my daughter interrupted me. Again. “Can I help you with your sermon?” she offered. Assuming that an eight-year-old didn’t have much to offer in terms of biblical knowledge, I said simply “no” and kept typing. “I wrote a story that might be helpful,” she insisted. I think I said something dismissive, like “That’s nice, Honey.”

I can’t remember why I stopped. Probably it was Jackie, telling me to stop working and just be a mom for a few minutes. Whatever the cause, I stopped and read the story Amelia wanted to share with me. And then I typed it for safe keeping. It’s called “A story that is not in the Bible but probably should be.”

Long ago, when Jesus was around, there was a big stone building. It had no life. It was not colorful. It was not bright. God did not like this at all.

So one day a man named Jacob was walking around without a purpose. Then God came down from the heavens and said to Jacob, “Go to the big stone building and paint a mural on it.”

Jacob started asking all these questions like “What should I paint a picture of?” and “What colors should I use?” And God said gently, “Do not ask questions; just do it.”

So Jacob went to the big stone building. And he painted. And painted. And painted. And eventually he had painted a sailboat and the sun shining brightly and in the water you could see every fish. It was finished.

So Jacob went back to God and said, “Is it okay?”

“Is it the way you want it?” asked God.

“Yes,” answered Jacob softly.

And God answered, “Then it’s just perfect.”

This child-like story teaches us an adult lesson: that God wants our creativity. God wants our ideas of what the canvas needs, of what the world needs. God wants us to make it beautiful. This is what we have to give.

What do you have in your treasure chest to give to God? Maybe it’s a passion for the arts, because music and dance feed your soul. Maybe it’s a desire to bring beauty in ugly places, because you know that truth is beauty. Maybe it’s a passion for justice, because you see so little of it around you. Maybe it’s a concern for the hungry, because you know how it feels to worry about your next meal, or maybe because you don’t. Maybe it’s a burden for those with addictions, because you have seen or felt their power.

Whatever it is, whatever you have, whatever you give that means something to you—it is perfect and pleasing to God. It doesn’t matter whether you’re rich or poor, working or retired, or if you think you have nothing more than some sarcasm and a desire to help others. It is enough.

But you do have to open that treasure chest and quit hoarding it. If you keep hauling it around with you, saving all that treasure for a rainy day, your blessing will become a heavy burden.

So share the gift. Share the love. It may not be myrrh. It may be even better. And you never know what you might receive in return.

 

And speaking of receiving: I am starting a new tradition today, a gift each of you will receive. It is called a star gift. On your way out of the sanctuary this morning, you are invited to take a paper star from one of the baskets near the exit. Each star has a word on it, and that word is your “star gift” for the year. Take it home with you and put it on the fridge or tape it on your bathroom mirror—anywhere you will see it regularly. Then, in the coming year, be attentive to the ways in which you notice that particular gift in your life.

When you choose a star, you may see the word and immediately think, “Yes! This is a gift!” Or you may look at the word and think, “This is a gift?” But either way, spend time with your star gift. Keep it in sight. Keep it close to your heart. And watch for it. Then a year from now, on Epiphany Sunday next year, I hope to have some of you share your experiences with your star gifts. I look forward to hearing how you respond to your star gift, whether you welcome it or fight it, whether it fits right away or whether you’d like to exchange it. I look forward to hearing how that gift is manifested in your life this year.

 

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