Saturday, 1 March 2014

The Protest Singer

I am old enough to remember the emergence of the protest song in the 1960s. Before that, almost all popular songs were love songs, all with rhymes like “June” and “moon” and “love” and “dove”. I remember the sense of dislocation that came when singers playing the same kind of instruments and singing in the same style started singing songs that turned out to be about inequality, war, nuclear weapons and social change. A shock something like this could quite well have been experienced by the people who first heard the song in the fifth chapter of Isaiah:

“Let me sing for my beloved

My love-song concerning his vineyard”

“Love” and “vineyards” were often a good pairing of ideas, as we find in the Song of Solomon. This song seems to be sung by a woman. Perhaps it was Isaiah’s wife who sang it. She co-operated with him in giving symbolic names to their children, and she is referred to in one place (Isaiah 8:3) as “the prophetess”.

The song starts like a love song, but soon turns out to be something different. It tells of a man who put a lot of work into preparing and planting a vineyard, only to find that it produced useless fruit. He is therefore going to remove its hedge and not protect or cultivate it any more. The anger expressed in this destructive action, culminating in his commanding the clouds not to rain on it, keeps alive the sense of passion: disguised under the experience of an unlucky farmer, it seems to be the bitter song of a betrayed lover. The singer then goes on to show that the vineyard is a symbol of the people of Israel: this too is found elsewhere in the Bible (e.g. Psalm 80). God had gone to great trouble to cherish Israel, and is bitterly disappointed by the results. This is dramatically expressed in the juxtaposition of similar Hebrew words:

“he expected mishpat (justice)

but found mishpach (bloodshed);

tsedakah (righteousness)

But heard tse’aqah (a cry)!      

After this the prophet returns to the themes of wealth, pride and the resultant downfall. He  preaches against the greedy landowners who “join house to house” and “add field to field” – reminiscent of the land-grabbing agriculture that goes on today in some parts of the world. He then envisions “large and beautiful houses, without inhabitant”, and land that has lost its fertility. The suggestion of today’s exhaustion of the soil with artificial fertilisers and pesticides is almost uncanny. He then satirises the determined pleasure-seekers who live for wine and music and care nothing for God’s ways, who show their machismo by how much they can drink (5:22) while their corrupt dealings deprive innocent people of justice and let the guilty go free.

Monday, 17 February 2014

What is the Bible FOR?

Some thoughts from a talk I gave yesterday on that question:

The Bible:

·         is not a complete systematic statement of the Christian faith: the early Catholic Church, in its battle against various ‘heretical’ groups, had to maintain that it had original documents from the apostles, and that they had been constantly in use in every part of the Church from earliest times. The resulting list of approved Scriptures consisted of the Jewish Bible, which was already a ‘given’, and all the Christian writings that happened to be there and satisfied these criteria.

·         is not the source of Christian faith: the gospel of Jesus Christ was preached by word of mouth before there was a New Testament.

·         is not a clear, consistent statement of doctrines and moral commandments, the so-called ‘Maker’s instructions’ for human life: it is a collection of writings of various types, each to be interpreted according to the type it belongs to. A story is not a rule. A hymn is not a doctrinal statement. A parable is not history.

·         is not a book designed to be read devotionally: some parts of it are profound and inspiring, but many other parts had a very down-earth practical purpose at the time they were written. So don’t worry if the genealogies in Chronicles don’t turn you on!

The Bible:

·         is back-up material used in the preaching of the Christian message. This is where some modern movements, e.g. Jehovah’s Witnesses and some extreme fundamentalists, are mistaken. They see the Bible as a book sent by God for our instruction, which the majority of Christians have interpreted in the wrong way. But the Bible was never meant to be independent of Christian belief: it grew out of the faith and life of the Christian Church, and that is the context in which it is to be understood.

·         is a check to keep us generally on the right lines: not infallible, but worthy of respect because it is the oldest witness to the events.

·         is the Church’s ‘family album’: as with all families, there are some members we don’t like, some we rarely see, some we make allowances for, and some who are very precious to us, but they are all family. So, if we are Christians, every part of the Bible is somehow ours.

·         is a collection of testimonies: many different people telling us about their experience of God, every one worth listening to even if we wouldn’t talk about God in the way they do.

·         is a source of never-ending fresh inspiration. The joke is that the Bible was shaped by the established authorities to keep things in order, but in preserving these documents close to the original sources they preserved some of the original radical vision. For example, white slave masters taught their black slaves to read the Bible so that they would become well-behaved and obedient Christians, but it back-fired on them, because the slaves read about Moses and ‘Let my people go!’ Some people think the Bible is a load of old, unnecessary baggage. But watch out – there’s some high explosive in that baggage!


Thursday, 6 February 2014

A Utopian Vision


 Isaiah 2:1-4

The second chapter of Isaiah begins with one of those passages that have become part of the language and culture of Western society. Preachers and politicians echo its phrases even if sometimes they have no idea of where they come from:
“and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
and their spears into pruninghooks:
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more.”

Here too, however, the focus is on Jerusalem. Isaiah’s dream is that the Temple mount, “the mountain of the LORD’s house”, will be exalted so that it becomes (figuratively, we assume) the highest in the world. All the nations will stream to it, acknowledging the God of Israel and ready to learn his ways. In this way God will become the judge and arbiter among the nations and there will be universal peace.
This Jewish vision of one God teaching the world how to live was inherited by Christianity, and the churches especially of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries saw their role as evangelizing the rest of the world. As missionaries spread over the world under the protection of the European empires, they saw themselves as exporting not only the Christian faith but also a whole European way of life. They were educating and civilizing the rest of the world as well as evangelizing it.

Perhaps the high point of this movement was the great International Missionary Conference in Edinburgh in 1910. As happens with many human enterprises, its chief effect was different from its original aim. In one sense it was a new beginning, but rather than the beginning of a new missionary advance it was the beginning, for Protestants at least, of the ecumenical movement that has so changed the face of the Christian churches. As far as world mission is concerned, however, 1910 now looks like the beginning of the end. The slogan that rallied all the missionary societies and inspired them to work together was “the evangelization of the world in this generation”. Today that looks like a very dated and unrealistic dream.
Four years after this conference Europe, the “Christian” continent, was engulfed in a disastrous war that left many people disillusioned with traditional beliefs and values and paved the way for a much more questioning, sceptical and secular society. During that war came also the Russian revolution that spread militant atheistic Communism over a wide area of Europe and Asia and eventually led among other things to the complete closure of China to Christian missionaries. Later in the twentieth century came the breaking up of the great world empires. Countries to which European missionaries had enjoyed free access became independent and able to refuse entry to them. Many of these former colonies reasserted their own cultural and religious heritage. Islam, in particular, is now a force to be reckoned with in the political, social and religious scene. Economic developments have led to massive immigration into Western European countries, so that today Western Christians can no longer think of people of other faiths as faraway “heathen” waiting to hear the gospel, but as neighbours on the same street and colleagues in the same workplace. Even many people whose cultural heritage is Christian, including some active members of churches, now hold to an eclectic spirituality that mixes Christianity with elements of Buddhism and Hinduism. We now live in a market-place of faiths and world views in which “winning the world for Christ” seems not only unrealistic but arrogant.

Probably the nearest we have today to the ideal of the whole world uniting around one “teaching” is the concept of human rights as expressed in the United Nations’ Universal Declaration of Human Rights, the Geneva Convention, the International Criminal Court and so on. Whatever people’s creed or culture, there is a feeling that there are certain basic humanitarian principles on which everyone agrees. These principles are of course very far from being universally recognised in practice, though the fact that they are adopted in theory is felt to be a step in the right direction.
Today, however, even this consensus is being questioned, Stephen Hopgood* argues that the ideology behind “human rights” is a Western liberal perception of human life and society that does not necessarily fit every culture. He calls it “a secular bourgeois ideology, a kind of religionless Protestantism”, that is becoming increasingly irrelevant in today’s world of varied cultures and in the light of the resurgence of religion as a strong force and often divisive force.

World peace today can only be achieved by the much more difficult and complex path of people of different faiths and cultures striving for justice in their own terms and at the same time learning to understand, respect and compromise with each other. And yet, however we expect it to be achieved, and however long we expect it to take, there is something in those words of Isaiah that keeps us hoping.

* The Endtimes of Human Rights, Cornell University Press 2013; see also his article in New Internationalist, November 2013, pp 38-39

Saturday, 1 February 2014

Passion for the City: A Celebration of the Book of Isaiah

Here is a draft of the Introduction to a book I am planning. I would welcome any comment on it.

An Angry Young Man

Two thousand seven hundred years ago a young man belonging to the upper class of Jerusalem society is angry about the state of the city. Its situation is desperate: the land has been almost entirely taken over by the ever-expanding Assyrian empire, and the ancient nation of Israel is now reduced virtually to the capital city. This is a nation that believes itself to be God’s chosen people, the descendants of Abraham to whom God had said “in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Gen 12:3). These are the children of the people God rescued from slavery in Egypt to mould them into “a priestly kingdom and a holy nation” (Ex 19:6). That people is now humiliated and its very existence threatened. But this young man sees beyond the political situation: he sees that the people are no longer what they were meant to be, no longer “holy” and no longer in any fit state to be a blessing to the rest of the world. Their rulers are corrupt, and the whole society is riddled with bribery, injustice and oppression. The poor are being ruthlessly exploited by those with wealth and power.
No one can accuse them of not being religious. People flock to the Temple to pray and offer sacrifices. They scrupulously observe all the ritual and turn out in great numbers for the festivals. But they have forgotten that their God is a God of justice and compassion, and that without these things worship is meaningless. And so in practice they have turned their backs on God and despised him.

How little has changed! Religious people are so often ready to blame national decline or misfortune on the decline in church-going, the neglect of the Sabbath, the retreat of religion from public life or challenges to traditional sexual morality. They love to quote the saying “righteousness exalteth a nation” (Proverbs 14:34). But what they forget is that the real meaning of “righteousness” is justice.
So the first chapter of the Book of Isaiah is an angry outburst. The prophet feels God calling on heaven and earth to listen to his complaint:

“I reared children and brought them up,
but they have rebelled against me.
The ox knows its owner, and the donkey its master’s crib;
but Israel does not know,
my people do not understand.”

The nation has forsaken its God and become estranged from him. It is like someone wounded, sick from head to toe, bleeding and uncared for. The land of Judah has been devastated. Its cities have been burned, and Jerusalem alone, the sanctuary of Zion, God’s beloved “daughter”, is left standing like a shed in a garden of cucumbers.

If it were not for the survival of Jerusalem and its few inhabitants the scene would resemble the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah, those legendary cities near the Dead Sea that had been destroyed by a cataclysm in the distant past, a proverbial example of God’s punishment for wickedness. Indeed, says Isaiah, this “holy” city is in fact no better than those:

“Hear the word of the LORD, you rulers of Sodom!
 Listen to the teaching of our God, you people of Gomorrah!”
God does not appreciate their conspicuous practice of religion:

 “What to me is the multitude of your sacrifices? says the LORD;
I have had enough of burnt offerings of rams
and the fat of fed beasts …
Trample my courts no more …”
Offerings, incense, the observing of special days and seasons – nothing escapes God’s scorn, says Isaiah. They have all become a burden that God is weary of bearing. Even prayer is futile:

“When you stretch out your hands
I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers
I will not listen …”
Why? Because those hands stretched out in prayer are stained with blood. Before God will listen to their prayers the people must change their ways:

“Wash yourselves; make yourselves clean …”
This of course would be an expected ritual preparation for worship, such as is customary in most religions. But Isaiah means more than just the washing of the body:

“remove the evil of your doings from before my eyes;
cease to do evil,
learn to do good;
seek justice,
rescue the oppressed,
defend the orphan,
plead for the widow.”
It is paradoxical that this book that presents us with so many hopeful visions of Jerusalem should start by identifying it with Sodom and Gomorrah. It is even stranger that these words should come not from a social drop-out but from a man of some status who is probably even a priest himself, tied into the whole system of worship and sacrifice against which he is ranting. Here is real radicalism.

Jesus was not the first to challenge the Temple and the whole way of life that revolved around it. It was in the spirit of the ancient prophets that he constantly put ethical behaviour, compassion for one’s fellow human beings, at the heart of devotion to God, taking priority over prayers and sacrifices:
“So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.” (Matthew 5:23-24)

In the prophet’s eyes the “faithful city” has become “a whore”.  Instead of justice there is murder. Leaders are corrupt, easily bribed, “companions of thieves”, and it is the orphans and the widows who suffer. But the sermon (if we can call it that) ends on a positive note. God will certainly “pour out his wrath”, but only to cleanse and refine, and then he will restore the life of the city so that it will once again be “the city of righteousness, the faithful city”.
In this first chapter, then, the theme of the whole book of Isaiah is set out as at the beginning of a symphony. It is God’s vision and passion for Jerusalem, the stark contrast between the ideal and the reality, and the dream of a Jerusalem that will be what God truly wants it to be.

The Authors

The Book of Isaiah is mostly anonymous. It is a compilation of writings accumulated over several centuries. The only author whose name we know lived in Jerusalem about seven hundred years before Christ, but it is hard to say how much of the book originates with him. The book begins with a title:
“The vision of Isaiah son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem in the days of Uzziah, Jotham, Ahaz and Hezekiah, kings of Judah”

In chapter 6 there is an account of a vision in the Temple that looks likely to be a description of how Isaiah first experienced the call to be a prophet. It took place “in the year that King Uzziah died”. This was about 740 BC. Chapters 36-37 give an account (also found in the Second Book of Kings) of an attack on Jerusalem by the Assyrian King Sennacherib during the reign of Hezekiah, and the part that Isaiah played in that situation. This, as we know from the Assyrian records, was 701 BC. This means that Isaiah was preaching for about forty years, so we may probably assume that he was quite a young man when he began. The story in chapter 6 of his experiencing his call to be a prophet through a vision in the Temple may mean that he was a priest.
Isaiah’s lifetime was dominated by the threat from the Assyrians. This empire, based in what is now northern Iraq, was at its peak at that time, and was the biggest empire the Near East had yet seen. The original nation of Israel had, since the death of Solomon in about 922 BC, been divided into two kingdoms: the northern kingdom that had its capital in Samaria and retained the name “Israel”, and the southern kingdom called Judah with its capital in Jerusalem. It was during Isaiah’s lifetime, in 721 BC, that the Assyrians brought the kingdom of Israel to an end. They not only incorporated it into their empire, but they destroyed it as a nation, deporting many of its citizens and bringing in settlers from elsewhere, so that the whole area came to be known as “Galilee of the nations” (Isaiah 9:1). Judah survived on that occasion, though it seems that for a time at least the Assyrians were in possession of virtually the whole country, leaving the city of Jerusalem standing alone “like a shelter in a cucumber field” (Isaiah 1:8). The Assyrian threat eventually died away and the kingdom of Judah survived for another century or so, by which time the Assyrian empire had fallen and it was Babylon that dealt the fatal blow.

It is difficult to tell how much of the Book of Isaiah originates with Isaiah himself, but certainly from chapter 40 onwards we are in a completely different period of history. The Assyrians are no longer in the picture, and even Babylon is being taken over by the Medes (who later became the Persian empire). Cyrus the Mede is actually mentioned by name (Isaiah 44:28; 45:1). The Babylonians had destroyed Jerusalem in 586 BC and had deported most of its leading citizens to Babylon. Isaiah 40-55 comes from a time about fifty years after this, when Cyrus had given permission for Jews to return to Jerusalem, rebuild it, and reinstate their religion and way of life. This part of the book is largely a celebration of this good news by a prophet who seems to be based in Babylon.
From chapter 56 onwards the situation has changed again. The prophet now seems to be based in Judah and concerned with problems arising a generation or so after the return of the exiles.

Why is the preaching of at least three different prophets gathered together in one book under the name of Isaiah? The different parts of the book are in different styles and reflect different historical circumstances. However, in their different ways they share something of the spirit of the original Isaiah. Isaiah seems to have had disciples who noted his words and preserved them for posterity. At one point (Isaiah 8:16) these words are attributed to him:
“Bind up the testimony, seal the teaching among my disciples. I will wait for the LORD, who is hiding his face from the house of Jacob, and I will hope in him.”

It may be that this circle of disciples continued in existence for a long time, forming a community of people who treasured and repeated the words of the prophet. As time went on, their relevance would be seen in new situations, and people would preach and write in the name of Isaiah, saying what they believed Isaiah would say in their time. And so, over a period of centuries, there was added to the original core a series of layers that became the Book of Isaiah as we now have it.

Jerusalem, Jerusalem!

The one thing that seems to link the different parts of the book together is the city of Jerusalem. The original Isaiah challenged it, spoke very scathingly about as we have already seen, but was consumed with love for the city and a conviction that it had a special place in God’s purpose. This vision of Jerusalem, which started with the legendary days of David and Solomon but perhaps really got off the ground with Isaiah, has persisted down through the centuries. As the Jewish people were dispersed among the other nations. Jerusalem became the place to which they made pilgrimage and towards which they prayed. Jesus came there for the culmination of his ministry. The Gospels tell of his “triumphal entry” on the back of a donkey, and Luke (19:41) tells how he paused when the city came into view and wept over it because of the opportunity it was missing. Luke also (13:34) quotes Jesus, very much in the spirit of Isaiah, saying:
“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those that are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

It was in Jerusalem that Jesus was condemned to death, and from Jerusalem that the Christian gospel was spread out to the rest of the world. Six centuries later, Jerusalem acquired sacred associations with the prophet Mohammed and his followers, and so it is to this day a holy city for Jews, Christians and Muslims.
For Christians there is also the symbolic Jerusalem, derived mostly from the New Testament book of Revelation. Under its alternative names of Jerusalem, Salem and Zion it is a symbol of the Church:

“Glorious things of thee are spoken,
Zion, city of our God.”
 It is a symbol of heaven:

“Jerusalem the golden,
With milk and honey blessed,
Beneath thy contemplation
Sink heart and voice oppressed.
I know not, ah, I know not
What joys await us there,
What radiance of glory,
What bliss beyond compare.”
It is also a symbol of the ideal world. The Book of Revelation (21:2) talks of the New Jerusalem coming down from heaven so that God’s dwelling will be with humanity. On the last night of the Proms in London thousands of patriotic voices lustily sing the words of the visionary poet William Blake about building “Jerusalem in England’s green and pleasant land”.

Meanwhile the actual city of Jerusalem continues to exist on this earth. The Jews were driven out of it when they rebelled against the Roman Empire in the second century AD. In the Middle Ages Europe sent out a succession of Crusades to drive the Muslims out of it and claim it for Christianity. Today it is a tragically divided city where Jews, Muslims and different kinds of Christians argue and fight over their territories, and the capital of a state whose policies and whose very existence excite passionate and often violent disagreement. Jerusalem today is no happier than it was in Isaiah’s time. It is still a microcosm of the divisions, the suffering and the mess of humanity. And yet it is still the stuff of dreams and utopian visions.
The vision of the Book of Isaiah still has its relevance for Jerusalem. The people of three faiths still regard it as a very special city, but Isaiah reminds us that God’s central concern is for justice, and only through justice will Jerusalem ever prosper. At the same time Jerusalem can serve as a symbol of every human society, and perhaps especially of cities. The world’s population today is becoming increasingly urban. There are cities whose population is on a scale that was unheard of even fifty years ago. A city is a world concentrated in a small area. Most big cities today are extremely diverse and cosmopolitan. People are drawn to cities because they are exciting, full of culture, variety and the opportunity to advance one’s career and make money. Every city has its pride and its distinctive profile. Many have an icon that is immediately recognisable all over the world: Big Ben, the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Cristo Redentor, the Harbour Bridge ….  and so on. But at the same time the worst of human misery is seen in cities: shanty towns with open sewers, people scavenging on rubbish dumps, “cardboard cities”, sweat shops, lonely people paying an extortionate rent to live in desolate bedsitters, and some committing the final act of despair by jumping off a bridge. A city stands for everything that is miserable, joyful, ugly, beautiful, desperate, hopeful, hellish and heavenly in the human world. So Isaiah, as an important part of the Scripture of Jews and Christians and of the world’s literary heritage, is not just about Jerusalem: it is about a divine passion for the city.   

Wednesday, 22 January 2014

What Does 'Fishers of Men' Mean?

Many of us as children learned the chorus "I will make you fishers of men".  As we sang it, the movements we made were of angling with a rod and line. But of course, in its context among the fishermen of Galilee it didn’t mean that at all. They went out on the sea fishing with nets, gathering in scores or even hundreds of fish at a time.

And this is what Jesus was talking about – not making one convert at a time by holding out the bait and patiently waiting for something to bite, but pulling them in en masse!

If Jesus invited the fishermen of Galilee to become fishers of people, how would they have understood that invitation? They would surely have heard it through its associations in the Hebrew Scriptures. But the interesting thing is that “fishing” in the Scriptures is almost always an image of aggression, misfortune and punishment.

Ecclesiastes 9,12 says: "For no one can anticipate the time of disaster. Like fish taken in a cruel net, and like birds caught in a snare, so mortals are snared at a time of calamity when it suddenly falls upon them."

In the Psalms, the oppressor is often represented as laying a net to trap the innocent.

The nearest Old Test­ament reference to "fishers of men" is in Jeremiah 16,16:

"I am now sending for many fishermen, says the Lord,  and they shall catch them... For my eyes are on all their ways; they are not hidden from my presence, nor is their iniquity concealed from my sight."

This casting out of the net to bring in the fish for judgment was one the signs of the “end time”, the coming of the kingdom of God. So if the disciples understood Jesus’ invitation at all, they probably thought they were being called to be God's instruments of the final judgement.

But what did Jesus go on to do? His ministry was all about reaching out to the outcasts of society and gathering them in. He told the story of a host sending his servants out into the highways and byways to invite the poor and the disabled to his feast.  He befriended Zacchaeus, a despised tax collector, and said “he too is a son of Abraham”. His healing of lepers meant that they were brought back into the community.

He admired the faith of a Roman army officer, and said that many would come from east and west to join the feast of the kingdom. John tells the story of a miraculous catch of fish Jesus caused after his resurrection. The number 153 probably represented all the nations of the world.

So it looks as if Jesus took this scriptural image of the fishing net and turned it on its head, making it not the inescapability of judgment and wrath but the inescapability of acceptance and inclusion.
If we are to take this "fishing" as a model for evangelism, it surely means that, rather than angling a  few people out of this world into a minority "kingdom" we should be reaching out to all and sundry and saying "God says you belong!"

Saturday, 17 August 2013

Opening of a Recent Sermon

Imagine this conversation. Two chapel-goers meet on the street..

“How are you getting on with your minister these days?”

“Very well indeed. He’s lovely – such a kind man, a great listener, and a great preacher too. He’s wonderful considering the problems he has at home.”

“Oh, what problems would they be?”

“Well, his wife is no credit to him.”

“She doesn’t help him much in his ministry then?”

“I’ll say she doesn’t! It’s worse than that.”

“Oh, is she not a Christian?”

“Far from it! She’s an absolute disgrace. To put it bluntly, she’s nothing but a common tart. She goes out at night and he’s got no idea where she is. She’s left him a few times and gone off with another man. There are three children in the manse, but nobody’s sure whether they’re his or not. Needless to say, they’re no credit to him either. They’re completely out of control.”

“Hasn’t he ever thought of a divorce?”

“Well, he has threatened it, but every time she comes back crying on his shoulder he forgives her and they patch it up somehow. I think he’d be far better off without her. But there you are, love is blind I suppose.”

“It must be very embarrassing for him in his ministry. How does he cope? I suppose he keeps quiet about it.”

“Oh no, quite the reverse – he often preaches about it. He says his marriage has taught him a lot about God.”

“Preaches about it! Well, I’ve heard it all  now. I can’t imagine my church putting up with that. We’d have been looking for another minister long ago.”

“But we wouldn’t want any other minister. We love our Mr Hosea.”

Saturday, 5 January 2013

The Questions in a Familiar Story

The Bible is often hard to understand. It is meant to be so – not to hide things from us or intimidate us into servile reverence, but rather to make us think for ourselves. Sometimes the passages that seem simple are actually some of the hardest to understand when we start thinking about them.

Take for instance the story of the ‘Wise Men’ in Matthew 2. It is one of the most familiar stories in the Bible. Every child knows it, though perhaps in its highly embellished form, with crowned kings kneeling alongside the shepherds in a sanitised stable. But reading it just as it is in the Bible, what does it really mean? What is the point we are meant to take from it? It is full of unanswered questions.

First, who were they? At the time when the King James Bible was written, ‘wise men’ really meant ‘wizards’. The Latin Bible, based on the Greek, calls them ‘magi’. This word is connected with ‘magic’. They were really ‘magicians’. The word is used in two other places in the New Testament, both in the book of Acts. First it describes a man called Simon, a sorcerer who offered money to buy a spiritual gift from the apostles: he goes down in history at Simon Magus, the arch-heretic, and ‘simony’ is a word for corruption in religious circles. The second example is Elymas the sorcerer, who tried to prevent Paul from preaching to the governor of Cyprus. So, are we supposed to approve of these ‘magi’?

They came because they had seen a star. In other words, they were astrologers. The Bible never has a good word to say about astrology, and Christians are generally discouraged from believing in it. So is this story telling us that astrology is a way to God?

More unanswered questions:

When they eventually came to the right place and saw the baby Jesus, did they realise how wrong they had been in their assumptions?

Were they converted to the Jewish faith, and did they recognise Jesus as the Messiah? And did they then give up their astrology and their other pagan beliefs?

In later years, did they hear about Jesus?

If so, did they become Christians? And if not (from the point of view of evangelical Christianity) are they in heaven now or in hell?

The point of the story in Matthew’s Gospel, of course, is that Jesus came for everybody. And perhaps what it is telling us in today’s multi-faith world is that if we believe this we will be faced with many unanswered questions. Matthew doesn’t answer them, neither does the Bible as a whole: it just raises more questions. We may think we have our doctrines all worked out, but real life isn’t as simple as that. What this story, and the whole trend of the Bible tells us, is that whatever the questions we have to hold on to the faith that Jesus is for everybody.