Heads & Tales: day 20

Today I’m writing about paranoia.

By paranoia I don’t mean the clinical diagnoses, but common anxiety experienced to an uncommon degree. I mean excessive worry. I mean the fantasies that run amok in our waking thoughts, causing remote possibilities to become pressing problems necessitating drastic action.

Paranoia causes panic.

The Magi confronted Herod and warned him of a newborn King of the Jews. Herod was already an old, sick man when the Magi visited. Even if a new King had been born, Herod was guaranteed to be long gone before this child could ever pose a threat to his power. Herod cared very little for his biological children—he murdered 3 of them—and was always more likely to perceive them as threats to his power rather than heirs to his legacy. So. It’s unlikely Herod was worried about the newborn King threatening his heirs either.

Truly, that kid wasn’t a threat to anybody.

The nearest threat was that a newborn King might embolden the Parthian Empire to strike against Judea while Herod was still alive, seeking to gain some revenge for the debacle that awarded Herod power in the first place.

But even that threat was remote, since the Parthians were only just beginning to move into Judea with the arrival of the Magi. They knew Herod was almost dead. They just had to wait him out.

Which, again, means the baby in the manger was no threat to anyone.

Except in Herod’s mind.

In Herod’s mind the child was a usurper.

In Herod’s mind the child was unifying his enemies and preparing an invasion.

In Herod’s mind the child’s every breath was stolen from Herod’s lips.

In Herod’s mind the child had to die.

Bethlehem probably only had about two dozen baby boys alive during the nativity season. So Herod killed them all, just to be sure he removed the threat. He believed such drastic action was justified in defense of his power.

But it wasn’t.

Our dark imagination often runs away with us. We imagine circumstances are worse than they really are. We imagine threats where there are none. We let our minds run away with us, positing worst-case scenarios divorced from reality.

True—we aren’t like Herod, not in terms of scale or depth-of-madness.

But, also true—we are like Herod when we let our thoughts deceive us about the true nature of power, security, and what must be done to justify our safety.

But some things can never be justified.

There are some moral absolutes.

We can all agree that babies should never be killed. Right? Or have we found justification for that too?

We can all agree that murder in service to power is inexcusable. Right? Or do we suspect these killings happen frequently?

We can all agree that Christ would never be harmed in our lives. Right? Or, like Herod, do we find him too much of a threat to survive in us?

Heads & Tales: day 19

The quietest line in Matthew's nativity claims the Magi went home 'by another route.'

They had been warned in a dream that Herod was going to kill them. They had already seen the Christ. They needed to return to their own people, their own customs, their own homes.

But they would do so by another route.

Nobody who meets Christ goes home by the same route. We are all changed by the visitation of God. We are all transformed when we leave our old lives and come to worship the God who gave up his power in solidarity with our suffering.

I think this should be the litmus test for a good Christmas: did you meet Christ? were you changed?

Think about it. We all come to Christmas by the same route: stress, business, frantic gift-getting, over-spending, and a faint commitment that 'this year will be different.' But how many of us actually find ways to re-enter the manger? to re-encounter Christ? We know we're supposed to remember that Jesus is 'the reason for the season' and all that other tripe, but we rarely make it our personal responsibility to encounter him.

And that's one thing no one else can do for you. You have to accept the responsibility yourself. You know all the stories, you're tired of all the songs, you've been to all the events. So. The only thing that can truly be given to Christ at Christmas is your attention.

We all have to make a conscious choice to make Christmas about something other than greed, or panic, or gluttony. And it won't do to make Christmas "special" or "non-commercial." We have to carve time out of our fragmented schedules, and focus our scattered thoughts, on the one who entered our world without privilege, without power, and without strength to show us that our true worth as human beings wasn't found in anything other than our identity as children of God.

When we find that moment of clarity, we too will return from our Christophany by another route.

Heads & Tales: day 18

Xenophobia is the fear of aliens.

We don't typically use that word to reference a fear of extra-terrestrials, but a fear of foreigners. All the people who want to built fences to keep Mexicans out of the USA? Xenophobes. All those who think that Cuban immigrants should be put back on rafts and made to sail to Havana? Xenophobes. All those who wish those wetbacks would stop screwing up our economy and taking our jobs? Xenophobes.

But the Nativity story is replete with the heroism of foreigners and the safety of foreign lands.

Consider that the Magi were Persians, not Jews. They didn't even practice the Jewish religion. Their religion wasn't compatible with Judaism either, as their Zoroastrian astrology involved practices specifically forbidden in the Hebrew scriptures. If you want a good contemporary parallel, you'd need to imagine that--instead of Billy Graham or the Pope visiting the manger--it was the Dalai Lama or Bal Thackary.

The foreigners were the good guys, while the nationals were running around with swords killing babies.

Consider, also, that the Holy Family fled to Egypt. During that time, Egypt was undoubtedly more hospitable to Jews than it had been during Moses' life, but the fact remains that it would have felt like that Jewish family was running off to Auschwitz for protection.

Because their homeland wasn't safe.

I have dual citizenship. I am Canadian by birth, and American by ancestry. I hold two valid passports and have voted federally in both countries. I'd love to say that Canadians are far more tolerant than Americans about issues of foreign identity, but they're not. The great Canadian racism involves hating Americans for--ironically--being bigots.

But I will say the standard posture of American Christians seems to be one of unrestrained Xenophobia. Somehow we imagine that this is our land, that these are our rights, and that everything should be done our way to protect our country, our freedoms, and our religious rights.

Herod felt that way. The Sanhedrin felt that way. That basic principle was just about the only thing uniting the Pharisees and the Sadducees.

And I wonder how it got into our churches?

And I wonder how it got called 'Christian'?

And I wonder whether any of us can be self-scrutinizing enough to repent, and act like citizens of another kingdom altogether?

Heads & Tales: day 17

I’m bad at math, but sometimes still try.

Recently I asked my friend Amy to help me with a little math problem, to try and determine the approximate worth of the Magi’s gift to the Christ child.

They brought gold, silver, and myrrh.

The common coin, a silver denarius, weighed about 1 ounce. In today’s market, an ounce of silver is worth $33.82 USD. Gold is worth 51.4x silver, so a gold coin would be valued at $1739.89 USD.

IF the Magi gave Christ a gift of gold coins, we can safely assume they gave him no less than 100 gold coins (possibly more), thus amounting to approximately $173,989 USD.

Frankincense was worth 10x the value of gold, but they probably gave him less. If we surmise that 1 measure of frankincense weighed 3 ounces and that they gave him 3 measures of that kingly gift, then the approximate value of the frankincense offering would have been $156,451.50.

Myrrh was worth 5x the value of frankincense, resulting in three measures valuing approximately $782,260.

Total value of all three gifts combined? $1,112,700

But let’s not forget to multiply that by a standard rate of inflation from 0AD to the present day, 5.49, thus resulting in a total gift (adjusted) of $6,108,723 USD.

What a ridiculous number.

You may, of course, doubt the process by which I’ve arrived at this remarkable sum. I invite you to do so. But EVEN IF I’m VERY, VERY WRONG the gift was still an astronomical sum given to a stonemason’s family earning the equivalent of $30,000/yr without medical or dental insurance.

It’s a crap-ton of money.

They gave lavishly to Christ.

To whom do we give lavishly?

In my case, I’m saddened to think that I most frequently give to people I cannot impress or to purchase things I cannot keep.

But the gifts of the Magi convict me. They gave gifts fit for a king—gold was a gift of allegiance, given in tax; frankincense was a gift of coronation, given at the moment of a king’s ascension; myrrh was a gift of burial, given at interment.

If they recognized him as king in such a costly manner, why don’t I?

Heads & Tales: day 16

There are two kinds of leaders: those who give strength to others, and those who keep strength for themselves.

Because power is strength.

At the extremes are tyrants and stewards. The former use their strength to consolidate greater and greater power. Their strength is self-serving, self-pleasuring, strength. The latter uses their strength to faithfully execute their responsibilities. Their strength is administered to ensure the wellbeing of others.

Power comes in many forms. Social power. Economic power. Religious power. Intellectual power. Relational power. Cultural power. The power of influence. The power of an idea. Etc.

We know Herod was a tyrant, but if we’re honest we tend to live quite tyrannically ourselves. From our youth onwards we find it very difficult to share power.

Pretty girls wield power in high school. When a new pretty girl moves into town, the existing pretty girls invariably turn on the new girl. Because she’s a threat.

Athletes wield power. When a new recruit walks onto the team, the person playing their position on the starting roster invariably treats the newcomer with hostility and scorn.

Business people wield power. When a young upstart begins suggesting changes to the established order they are either ignored or spurned.

We don’t like to share, especially not power.

But the more we keep power for ourselves, the more it atrophies. The number and scope of our concerns dwindle, until the only thing about which we’re concerned is keeping our own power. The girls want to be the prettiest. The starting athletes would rather play than win. The manager would rather retain control than improve profits.

Ironically, the more we share power the more power there is to go around. Were the girls to welcome the newcomer, they would add kindness and warmth to their beauty. Were the athletes to compete and share tips, both players would benefit from healthy camaraderie and so would the team. Were the manager to allow the upstart some (limited) freedom to try and implement new ideas, that manager would earn the relational authority to coach the upstart and the company would benefit from any improvements along the way.

If these examples seem abstract, please allow me to clarify: I dated the new girl, I was the new athlete, and I work as the manager. In all cases, everyone is happier and the school/team/organization is more successful when power is shared and strength is given to others.

The more anyone wins, the more we all benefit when power is shared.

The more power we have, the more power we have to share.

Because—in the mutual words of both Jesus Christ and Spiderman—with great power comes great responsibility.

Though I’m pretty sure JC said it first.

Heads & Tales: day 15

Historians like Josephus seem to relish giving gory details about Herod’s worsening health in his latter years.

Rashy skin. All-over irritation. Cankles. Swollen feet. Bedridden.

Kidney failure. Heart failure. Respiratory failure.

Fluid in the lungs. Palpitations. Convulsions. Hacking cough.

Gangrenous scrotum. Urethra worms. Warts. Sores.

Diagnosis? Diabetes. Scabies. Syphilis.  Result? Extreme paranoia.

All this to say Herod was in rough shape when he received the Magi from the east.

The Magi were likely Parthian advisors—court astrologers and wizards akin to Merlin at King Arthur’s Court. They would have likely traveled with a retinue—guards, assistants, cultural attaches, political advisors, etc. And when they asked Herod ‘where is he who has been born King of the Jews?’ Herod would have perceived a slight both about his birth (he wasn’t Jewish) and about his kingship (which had been awarded to him by his Roman masters).

The Parthian Empire was the chief threat to Roman safety and security during the time of Herod. The Parthians had backed the Jewish bid for independence nearly four decades earlier. The Jews were successful, for a time, until Herod retook Judea for the Romans at the behest of Marc Anthony.

The Parthians would have considered Herod a treacherous adversary, and the Magi would not likely have been welcomed as friends to Herod’s court.

In typical fashion, Herod decides to try and out-slime his enemies, pretending to be their hospitable ally while secretly checking with the priests and scholars to learn if the Magis’ journey had any prophetic validity.  He is reminded of a prophecy concerning the Messiah and bids the Magi a good journey, thinking to ambush and betray them later.

Tomorrow we’ll examine Herod’s poor use of power, but for today I think it’s simply worth noting that our past deeds will come back to haunt us. In Herod’s case, his past betrayal of the Jewish people and their Parthian allies was coming back to haunt him in the form of Magi and Messiah. Herod refused to cop to his sins, instead trying his old tricks again and again, with increasingly poor results.