Nobility
Sermon
Daniel J. Weitner
And Other Reflections On Christmas
Object:
Joe Dean is retired now. However, time was, not too many
years ago, that he was chief steward at the exclusive and
prestigious Baltusrol Country Club in New Jersey.
In case you don't know what a good country club steward does, he's the guy who makes you feel as if you're the only person who matters. He rolls out the red carpet of hospitality, then guides you across it. He knows your last name. First and middle names, too. And if you have a nickname that you hate, he will never, ever repeat it to anyone. He notes your birthday on the calendar, and sees to it that the baker prepares a little cake in your honor. (And if he can sing, you'll get a rendition of "Happy Birthday To You," too.) He will always ask you about your wife, your husband, your children, your mom, and your dad.
Dean was such a steward, and more. He remembered details. Insignificant things to some, but important to the guests. How you like a twist of lime in your cola. How you detest anything but black cut tea with your lightly toasted, unbuttered English muffin. How you prefer the table with the view of the brook and not of the fountain.
He kept secrets well, too. Golf handicaps -- the real ones. The number of desserts eaten. Amount of alcohol consumed. That sort of thing.
He left his long career as steward a happy, secure man. And although he once rubbed elbows with them, Joe Dean now loves to sit back and tell stories about conversations he had with the elite, rich, and powerful. You won't read about them in some "kiss-and-tell" paperback. Joe just likes to reminisce.
They had a special visitor some time ago, he says. It seems that the Prince of Wales visited Baltusrol a few decades back. The highborn guest knew of Dean's prominence as a steward and had asked for him by name. After some animated conversation, the Prince of Wales leaned toward his host as if he were about to utter something utterly confidential. Joe inclined his ear obligingly, just in time to hear the prince say, "By the way, my father was the king."
Interesting. A strange comment, according to Joe. " 'My father was the king'?" he says. "As if there were any question about it!"
Well put, Mr. Dean. True nobility doesn't go about dropping regal names. It doesn't flaunt its position. Nor does it explain itself. It doesn't have to. It simply is. Those with a shaky understanding of their own inheritance may have to parade titles about. But those of real royal stuff know who they are.
The name Herod was both feared and hated by many Jews in the ancient Middle East. It represented a family of tyrants. It represented a regime of cruelty. It represented, for the people, a worse oppression than Rome, because the royal family they should have been able to trust sold them out to their captors. Scripture doesn't mention it, but I guess name-dropping was part of Herod's daily diet of self-admiration: "Oh, by the way, did I tell you? My father was king, too."
And Herod was jealous. To the point of paranoia. Members of his court, members of his staff, members of his family, no one was above his suspicious and watchful eye.
Given his extreme jealousy, it is no wonder that when a certain caravan from east of Judea arrived at Herod's palace one day, the king was more than a little upset. It was a group of royals who had stopped by. That, in itself, was no cause for alarm. Potentates were a regular feature in the capital city. But why they had come to Jerusalem -- that was a big problem. It seems they hadn't dropped in to see Herod. They weren't there to have tea and cake. They didn't come on a diplomatic quest. They wouldn't even stay the night. They had come to get some directions, nothing more. Then they'd be on their way. Directions to where? Or, better stated, to whom? To a place where a child had been born. A baby boy.
A new star had appeared, they said. They were puzzled about it. Couldn't find anything like it in the astronomical maps. Wasn't in their astrological charts, either. So they began pouring over some old scientific manuscripts, literature, and religious works. And in the middle of an old Judean prophecy, they found what they were looking for. If there were an Oriental equivalent of "Wow!" they used it when they started to read.
[A] star shall come out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel (Numbers 24:17).
But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days (Micah 5:2).
As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries ... (Ezekiel 34:12-13).
A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots ... the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples (Isaiah 11:1, 10).
To whom does a scepter belong? A king. What kind of person rules over Israel? A king. What kind of shepherd can bring exiles out of countries where they have been scattered? A king. Who serves as an ensign for the people? A king. So who would pose the greatest threat ever mounted against the fraud and corruption perpetuated in the Herod lineage? Right. A king. A king in David's line. A good and just king. A king chosen by God.
So when Scripture says, "... King Herod ... was frightened, and all Jerusalem [its religious leaders] with him ..." (Matthew 2:3), it's not talking about a minor disturbance within the royal compound! Herod was livid. Herod was at stroke level. Herod was fit to be tied. Herod threatened his advisors with beatings or worse if they didn't give him the right information, and quickly. Remember: Herod was a despot and a jealous man. A man filled with himself. A man impressed with titles. A man who probably loved to hear himself say, "My father was king, you know."
And now, a man desperate to preserve his throne. Guard against all pretenders. Kill any child who might grow up and march against the crown. Even if the Child turned out to be the Son of the heavenly King, the most high God.
I'm sure you are familiar with the rest of the story. Herod dispatches the Temple guards into the Judean countryside. He orders that all males two years old and younger are to be executed. But the wise men inform Jesus' parents of the impending disaster, and they flee to safety in Egypt.
Those like Herod who have a shaky understanding of their own standing may have to parade their titles and their power about. But those of true nobility -- like Jesus of Nazareth -- don't go around dropping regal names, theirs or anyone else's.
Jesus didn't have to flaunt his position. He didn't have to explain himself. He didn't have to give people a set of complicated directions to find him. He didn't have to. He, simply, was the King. He knew who he was.
And, to this day, those who are wise enough to look -- will find him.
In case you don't know what a good country club steward does, he's the guy who makes you feel as if you're the only person who matters. He rolls out the red carpet of hospitality, then guides you across it. He knows your last name. First and middle names, too. And if you have a nickname that you hate, he will never, ever repeat it to anyone. He notes your birthday on the calendar, and sees to it that the baker prepares a little cake in your honor. (And if he can sing, you'll get a rendition of "Happy Birthday To You," too.) He will always ask you about your wife, your husband, your children, your mom, and your dad.
Dean was such a steward, and more. He remembered details. Insignificant things to some, but important to the guests. How you like a twist of lime in your cola. How you detest anything but black cut tea with your lightly toasted, unbuttered English muffin. How you prefer the table with the view of the brook and not of the fountain.
He kept secrets well, too. Golf handicaps -- the real ones. The number of desserts eaten. Amount of alcohol consumed. That sort of thing.
He left his long career as steward a happy, secure man. And although he once rubbed elbows with them, Joe Dean now loves to sit back and tell stories about conversations he had with the elite, rich, and powerful. You won't read about them in some "kiss-and-tell" paperback. Joe just likes to reminisce.
They had a special visitor some time ago, he says. It seems that the Prince of Wales visited Baltusrol a few decades back. The highborn guest knew of Dean's prominence as a steward and had asked for him by name. After some animated conversation, the Prince of Wales leaned toward his host as if he were about to utter something utterly confidential. Joe inclined his ear obligingly, just in time to hear the prince say, "By the way, my father was the king."
Interesting. A strange comment, according to Joe. " 'My father was the king'?" he says. "As if there were any question about it!"
Well put, Mr. Dean. True nobility doesn't go about dropping regal names. It doesn't flaunt its position. Nor does it explain itself. It doesn't have to. It simply is. Those with a shaky understanding of their own inheritance may have to parade titles about. But those of real royal stuff know who they are.
The name Herod was both feared and hated by many Jews in the ancient Middle East. It represented a family of tyrants. It represented a regime of cruelty. It represented, for the people, a worse oppression than Rome, because the royal family they should have been able to trust sold them out to their captors. Scripture doesn't mention it, but I guess name-dropping was part of Herod's daily diet of self-admiration: "Oh, by the way, did I tell you? My father was king, too."
And Herod was jealous. To the point of paranoia. Members of his court, members of his staff, members of his family, no one was above his suspicious and watchful eye.
Given his extreme jealousy, it is no wonder that when a certain caravan from east of Judea arrived at Herod's palace one day, the king was more than a little upset. It was a group of royals who had stopped by. That, in itself, was no cause for alarm. Potentates were a regular feature in the capital city. But why they had come to Jerusalem -- that was a big problem. It seems they hadn't dropped in to see Herod. They weren't there to have tea and cake. They didn't come on a diplomatic quest. They wouldn't even stay the night. They had come to get some directions, nothing more. Then they'd be on their way. Directions to where? Or, better stated, to whom? To a place where a child had been born. A baby boy.
A new star had appeared, they said. They were puzzled about it. Couldn't find anything like it in the astronomical maps. Wasn't in their astrological charts, either. So they began pouring over some old scientific manuscripts, literature, and religious works. And in the middle of an old Judean prophecy, they found what they were looking for. If there were an Oriental equivalent of "Wow!" they used it when they started to read.
[A] star shall come out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of Israel (Numbers 24:17).
But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days (Micah 5:2).
As shepherds seek out their flocks when they are among their scattered sheep, so I will seek out my sheep. I will rescue them from all the places to which they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness. I will bring them out from the peoples and gather them from the countries ... (Ezekiel 34:12-13).
A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots ... the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples (Isaiah 11:1, 10).
To whom does a scepter belong? A king. What kind of person rules over Israel? A king. What kind of shepherd can bring exiles out of countries where they have been scattered? A king. Who serves as an ensign for the people? A king. So who would pose the greatest threat ever mounted against the fraud and corruption perpetuated in the Herod lineage? Right. A king. A king in David's line. A good and just king. A king chosen by God.
So when Scripture says, "... King Herod ... was frightened, and all Jerusalem [its religious leaders] with him ..." (Matthew 2:3), it's not talking about a minor disturbance within the royal compound! Herod was livid. Herod was at stroke level. Herod was fit to be tied. Herod threatened his advisors with beatings or worse if they didn't give him the right information, and quickly. Remember: Herod was a despot and a jealous man. A man filled with himself. A man impressed with titles. A man who probably loved to hear himself say, "My father was king, you know."
And now, a man desperate to preserve his throne. Guard against all pretenders. Kill any child who might grow up and march against the crown. Even if the Child turned out to be the Son of the heavenly King, the most high God.
I'm sure you are familiar with the rest of the story. Herod dispatches the Temple guards into the Judean countryside. He orders that all males two years old and younger are to be executed. But the wise men inform Jesus' parents of the impending disaster, and they flee to safety in Egypt.
Those like Herod who have a shaky understanding of their own standing may have to parade their titles and their power about. But those of true nobility -- like Jesus of Nazareth -- don't go around dropping regal names, theirs or anyone else's.
Jesus didn't have to flaunt his position. He didn't have to explain himself. He didn't have to give people a set of complicated directions to find him. He didn't have to. He, simply, was the King. He knew who he was.
And, to this day, those who are wise enough to look -- will find him.
