In his best-selling work–– 

entitled Dark Emu––

Bruce Pascoe reconstructs a very different picture of Aboriginal culture… 

at the time of white settlement…

from the one that most of us were probably taught.

Far from the primitive hunter-gatherers of tale and lore…

he confronts us with a people who carefully managed and cultivated the land… 

engaged in complex aquaculture…

and even built yards for keeping small game.

They ground seeds into flour and baked cakes on a large scale…

dug and reinforced sophisticated wells…

and built settled communities for up to one thousand inhabitants.

All of the evidence for these claims Pascoe has gleaned from primary sources––

from the actual journals of nineteenth-century explorers such as Charles Sturt, Thomas Mitchell, and David Lindsay…

who saw and experienced such things firsthand…

and recorded them.

Sadly… 

for whatever reasons…

generations of historians read these same documents…

apparently skipped over these details…

and drew a very different picture of Aboriginal culture and community life.

However, as Tom Griffiths––

the professor of history at the Australian National University––

points out…

Pascoe’s book is really the climax of the recent trajectory of scholarly work…

which, unfortunately, still has not filtered through to the wider community.

 

Isn’t funny––

or perhaps sad––

how we often see only what we want to see…

or what we have been conditioned to see.

And isn’t that especially true when we come to the Bible?

People have poured over these stories––

for centuries.

Scholars, interpreters, and preachers have pulled and tugged at every little nuance…

of seemingly every single word.

But so much of what they see and find is what they want to see or find––

or have been conditioned to do so.

So much of what they do is simply building on the established narrative.

And…

perhaps until fairly recently…

they have mostly proceeded on the premise…

that the truth or meaning of a story… 

is to be located somewhere in and around the author’s intended meaning. 

They have worked on the assumption that a text has to mean what the author wanted it to mean.

Take, for example, our reading this morning––

Matthew’s story of Jesus’ birth;

or, more properly…

the story of the visit of the Magi––

because that’s really the focus or crux of this story.

That’s why we even celebrate this thing called “Epiphany”––

which means, literally, “to shine upon”––

because of the assumption that…

in this story…

God’s light and truth–– 

which are to be found in the incarnation of Jesus––

is revealed to the Gentiles.

Not only are the Magi the focus of this story…

they are its narrative heroes.

Indeed, clearly, the author presents them as models or paragons of faith.

Despite the fact that they came from a strange and distant land…

and did not worship Israel’s God…

they were seekers after truth.

And while they interpreted what they saw from within their tradition…

and current perspective…

and may not have understood fully or properly…

nonetheless…

they embarked on a journey––

a journey that would have taken many months…

across harsh deserts and hostile, bandit-filled terrain.

They pursued that search no matter where it took them…

no matter the risks.

They pursued that journey because they were open to new insights––

because they were seekers after truth.

But the author of Matthew’s Gospel also holds them up as exemplars of faith…

because they saw what others didn’t.

They saw a new star…

interpreted what it meant…

and went searching…

while the people of Jerusalem…

and, seemingly, the whole of Palestine didn’t even notice it.

Neither did the chief priests and professional scribes––

whose job it was to understands such things.

They, too, didn’t seem to notice it…

or didn’t understand…

or didn’t care.

And, even when presented with the possibility––

having been called upon to offer an interpretation to Herod––

none of them…

seemingly…

was excited or over-joyed…

or could be bothered tagging along with the Magi to find out for themselves.

 

And, by and large, that’s the way we have always read…

or heard…

this story––

the way that the author of Matthew’s Gospel wanted us to. 

But that’s not the only way to read this story. 

One of the insights of post-modern literary criticism…

is the idea that the intended meaning is not the whole meaning; 

that, often, there are other meanings in a text… 

and those meanings can run counter to–– 

or deconstruct–– 

the story that the author intends. 

If you step back for a minute… 

and have another look at our story this morning…

there’s another way to read it. 

Far from being the heroes of the story, perhaps...

in one sense… 

the Magi were actually the villains. 

Sure, they saw some sign and they pursued it…

they embarked on a search for truth…

on a spiritual quest.

But they did so with scant regard for anyone or anything else.

They were, in fact, dim, careless, and foolish.

Assuming that the star meant the birth of a new king they stopped, first, and asked Herod.

And yet…

clearly…

Herod’s palace––

let alone Jerusalem––

was not where the star was actually leading them.

It was only upon leaving Herod that they saw it again.

And, despite Herod’s notoriety…

they naively took his deceptive spin at face value.

Surely, they must have known––

given what he had done previously––

that if there was a potential rival then it wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

And yet, even then, it took a divinely-directed dream to deflect them from returning to Herod…

and going home a different way.

Throughout the whole episode, they paid scant regard to the consequences of their actions…

when they should have known better.

The so-called ‘Slaughter of the Innocents’––

the murder of all of Bethlehem’s baby boys under two…

which immediately follows on from our story––

was the direct result of their misguided meddling.

It was a clear consequence of their spiritual quest.

 

Perhaps, then, rather than being an exemplar …

this is, actually, a cautionary tale.

Perhaps, rather, than being models to emulate…

the Magi serve as a warning.

Perhaps…

at the start of a new year…

we need to beware… 

lest our search for spiritual fulfilment is simply self-seeking.

Reflecting back on his earlier life––

and some of his earlier writings––

Dietrich Bonhoeffer noted that he used to think that he “could acquire faith by trying to live a holy life, or something like it”.

His goal, his aim, was to be more ‘spiritual’.

Later… 

during his imprisonment by the Nazis… 

he came to decry spiritual introspection as inherently selfish. 

Instead, he asserted, “it is only by living completely in this world that one learns to believe”. 

And by that, he means, throwing “ourselves utterly in the arms of God”… 

and participating in God’s “sufferings in the world”.

If that is not the point of our spiritual journey…

then…

in a sense…

perhaps it would be better if we stayed at home.