The story of the Epiphany is almost ironic. A great king, Herod, with the full backing of the Roman Empire, is terrified of a child—a newborn baby born in humble circumstances to a young girl and her understandably skeptical husband. Yet, this reaction fits the ancient world. Kings often had to fear even the young. They never knew when someone might rally the people and overthrow them, especially among the Jews, who were actively awaiting a messiah. To protect their power, rulers would resort to ruthless measures, even murder. So, while Herod’s fear may seem absurd, it is what we might expect from that culture and time.
What should truly surprise us, however, is a small detail we might overlook in the story. Listen again to the third verse: “When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.” Matt 2:3 Not only was Herod afraid, but all of Jerusalem shared his fear.
This is startling. Jerusalem should have rejoiced at the coming of the Messiah. The Messiah was expected to bring peace, free the people from bondage, heal the sick, and usher in an era of joy and prosperity. Yet they were afraid. Why? For the same reason Herod was afraid. The Messiah would bring a new kingdom—a radically different kind of kingdom.
In this kingdom, the exalted would be humbled, and the lowly would be lifted up. All would stand as equals. Those who had profited through dishonesty or oppression would lose everything, while those who had been wronged would inherit the earth. Every injustice would be righted. Jerusalem feared this because they knew the truth about themselves. They knew how greed, pride, and selfishness had shaped their actions. They were reluctant to surrender their privileges or confront the ways they had exploited others.
They feared the Messiah because his coming meant relinquishing their ill-gotten gains and facing those they had oppressed as equals—or worse, seeing them exalted above them. The idea of standing eye-to-eye, or even looking up to those they had scorned, was unbearable. So, in their fear, they aligned themselves with Herod. They participated in the slaughter of the innocents in a desperate attempt to silence this Messiah and preserve the old order.
On the first Epiphany, a light pierced the darkness of our world, inaugurating a new kingdom. But another Epiphany is coming—the final one—when Christ will return to complete his work. How do we feel about that Epiphany? Do we long for the day when Jesus returns as judge and establishes a lasting kingdom of peace? Or, like Jerusalem, do we find ourselves afraid? Afraid because we know that on that day, we may lose everything, forced to stand as equals with those we have rejected and despised.