Missing our historical cues

In this season of what theologians call “kairos,” historic moments when, as John the Baptist put it, “the axe is laid to the root of the tree,” and we sense that “the times, they are a-changing” as the Bob Dylan song says, it is easy to miss what we ought to be doing in response to the call of this time.

Just like the Jews when the son of God finally came to earth.

There were no tell-tale signs that it was a royal birth. The Jews did not think it was worth fussing about. He was born in a manger, a feeding trough for animals. Scholars say that what is called an “inn” was in fact a lean-to attached to the entrance of caves in the hills of Bethlehem. It housed families and was used as shelter for guests. Livestock were kept further inside into the cave. There was an overflow of guests who, like Joseph, had come to register in Judea, his ancestral land. Because there was no more room and perhaps wanting more privacy, Joseph had Mary give birth inside the cave, with sheep and cows as witness to the child’s birthing.

The portentous meaning of the child’s birth was lost on all but the simplest and the wisest. The shepherds, poor and despised, were the first to receive the angels’ “tidings of great joy.” The three Magi from the East, wise men who divined planetary movements, saw the star that was to be the sign of the longed-for Messiah. These Chaldean astrologers perhaps learned from Daniel and his friends who were taken captive in Babylon the prophecy about a coming king of the Jews who would reign over all the earth. They trudged through the desert, against sharp winds and sandstorm, following the star that led them to the Christ-Child.

For centuries, the Jews had longed for the promised Son of David who would restore the kingdom that had been overrun by various powers, from Assyria and Babylon to Rome. But by the time Jesus was born, there were only a few who were waiting for the “consolation of Israel.”

One of these was Simeon, described as “righteous and devout” and possibly belonging to the liberal wing of the religious establishment, the Sadducees. He must have suffered greatly as he watched the priests’ betrayal of their sacred obligations. He came into the temple when the child’s parents came for Mary’s rite of purification, and to present the child as was customary for the firstborn son, offering the poor man’s sacrifice of two young pigeons instead of a lamb.

Simeon saw the child, took him up in his arms, and praised God that he could now depart in peace, “for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.” With prophetic insight, he then told Mary, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rising of many in Israel, … and a sword will pierce through your own soul also” (Luke 2.29-35).

There was also one other witness, the prophetess Anna, who briefly lived with her husband for seven years and then as a widow until she was 84. She was always in the temple, fasting and praying and worshiping day and night. “Coming up at that very hour she began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem” (Luke 2.36-38).

It is significant that the coming of the Christ-Child was first revealed to those in the margins—the lowly shepherds and the devout Jewish minority who faithfully kept watch even as God seemed to be silent for 400 years. And then there were the Magi, outsiders to the faith of Israel, yet in search of the one true king worth worshiping: “Where is he who has been born king of the Jews? For we saw his star when it rose and have come to worship him” (Matthew 2.2).

Herod and his minions knew about the coming Christ, but saw the child not as a promise but as a threat. For he was an Idumean who usurped the throne by kowtowing to the Romans and murdering all possible claimants, including his three sons and his favorite wife.

One of the saddest remarks about the Jews’ nonrecognition of the coming of the savior was that of the Apostle John: “He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him” (John 1.11). To this day, the Jews are still looking for their messiah, just like those of us who do not look at the carpenter’s son as anything resembling a savior. Instead, we pin our hopes on politicians who are spinning tales that they would save the nation.

It is in our nature to long for some bright star of a man who could lead us out of the morass of deprivation and degradation in which we have sunk. Unfortunately, we also tend to get beguiled by those who are able to spin false narratives that they are precisely the man we are looking for.

We are faced with critical choices at this moment in our history. As we approach the coming elections, let us have eyes for those who shall truly serve this nation, lest we fail to receive the gift already being given to us, and miss our historical cues.

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Melba Padilla Maggay, Ph.D., is president of the Institute for Studies in Asian Church and Culture.