Scripture Readings:
Hebrew Scriptures – Isaiah 60: 1-61
1Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. 2For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. 3Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. 4Lift up your eyes and look around; they all gather together, they come to you; your sons shall come from far away, and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses’ arms. 5Then you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice, because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you, the wealth of the nations shall come to you. 6A multitude of camels shall cover you, the young camels of Midian and Ephah; all those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.
Gospel Lesson – Matthew 2: 1-122
1In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, 2asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” 3When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; 4and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. 5They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: 6‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”
7Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. 8Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” 9When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. 10When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. 11On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. 12And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
“If
We Want to Find Our Star,
We Need the Darkness.”
Traditionally, Epiphany3 is the twelfth day of Christmas, the end of a holiday. For many of us it’s the day that we take the tree down – that is, if children and pets have left it standing this long. But Epiphany is also the first day of a brief season that we might, along with Julian of Norwich, call “a showing.”4
Now, just for a moment – while the darkness of winter may still have its clouds wrapped around us – we celebrate our deliverance. Who would’ve ever believed – without these signs and wonders, without the appearance of a star and the mystical dreams of wise ones – that our mundane lives are the very places in which the sacred lives, moves, and takes on being,5 that the glory of God may yet be seen in us? In spite of our disappointments – in our family, in each other, in our community, in our nation, and in circumstances around the world – and the misunderstandings that continue to divide us, in spite of fear and abandonment and the suffering that remains hidden behind the faces of our neighbors and our children, and, yes, in spite of our own misgivings and failures, the glory of God will rise upon us! Who would’ve ever believed that such a thing could happen?
Isaiah calls the radiance of Epiphany our “rising.” What an odd thing to say. We ought to pause, just for a moment, and think about the meaning of those words: “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.”6 We – you and me – are Epiphany. We are the signs of God’s coming. We may not know, yet, how that’s happening or will come about, just that it may and it must be so. This Epiphany – this vision, this sudden, intuitive perception of the essential meaning of life – is not of our making. It’s led one fourth-century mystic, Basil of Caesarea, to say:
If sometimes, on a bright night while gazing with watchful eyes on the inexpressible beauty of the stars you have thought of the Creator of all things, if you have asked yourself who it is that has dotted the heavens with such flowers…if you have raised yourself by visible things to invisible Being, then you are a well prepared listener and can take your place in this august and blessed amphitheatre.7
I can relate to such star-gazing as I was raised in a part of the world where stunningly clear nights were commonplace and I have spent countless hours just lying on my back looking up at the stars. But how do I “listen” now that there are footprints on the moon and a NASA “tinker-toy” has played with rocks on the face of Mars?
Some time ago there was an ad in The New York Times that had a picture of the “heavens” dotted with stars which was labeled “Prime Farmland.” The ad explained that the Institute (whose ad it was) would go to great lengths to solve problems, including finding “ways to harvest food aboard spacecraft for interplanetary expeditions.” They claimed to be developing technologies to achieve “environmental sustainability here on earth” – that by exploring other worlds ours will be made better.
As I recall that ad I get an odd feeling about how messed up our priorities are. I’m reminded of the Mullah Nasrudin who had his own brand of teaching. On one occasion a neighbor found him down on his knees apparently looking for something. “What have you lost, Mullah?” “My key,” said Nasrudin. After a few minutes of searching the man said, “Where did you drop it?” “At home.” “Then why for heaven’s sake are you looking here?” To which Nasrudin answered, “Because there’s more light here.” Sometimes we need to look into the darkness if we’re going to find what we’re looking for.
The “amphitheatre” that Basil spoke about has now become the science lab and what we’re able to see through the lens of the Hubble telescope. But the question remains: how do you or I raise ourselves “by visible things to invisible Being”? What was the “real” magic to which these magi responded? We’re given this story, the myth (told only in one of the gospel accounts); so what are the “facts” as scientists would have them? By now I hope we’re all aware that a myth is neither factual nor outright fiction but does give us something that might be both. There remains a deep truth in every myth – like the story teller who begins by saying, “Now, it may not have happened just this way, but the story is true.” The mythology from such storytellers helps us structure our understanding of being in the world. Factual accounts may give us accurate information; myth and story open us up to moments of transformation.
If you might begin to sense a split here between reason and imagination, between thought and feeling, that feels a bit unsettling, if current cosmology and the “new physics” seem too much of a challenge, I’m here to tell you that uncertainty need not be disturbing. As those of us who went through the Living the Questions series8 became aware, just as soon as you have one question answered, you’re going to be pushed into a deeper one. A response by Werner Heisenberg, the German physicist who discovered the indeterminacy, or “uncertainty,” principle more than eighty years ago might help. While out for a walk with Heisenberg, fellow physicist Felix Bloch was “moved to declare that space is simply the field of linear equations.” “Nonsense,” replied his companion. “Space is blue and birds fly through it.” Bloch later wrote:
What he meant was that it is dangerous for a physicist to describe Nature in terms of idealized abstractions too far removed from the evidence of actual observation. In fact, it was just by avoiding this danger…that he was able to arrive at his great creation of quantum mechanics.9
We can be tempted to read Matthew’s story as “too far removed from the evidence.” Placed as it is now in a new and immensely expanded “amphitheatre,” the data of science and the story as myth come together. But it’s still about the actual concrete person of Jesus born at a particular time in history.
One of my favorite authors, Annie Dillard, has written in her book Teaching a Stone to Talk, “You don’t have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars darkness is necessary.”10 Matthew’s myth, then, does help us recognize certain forms of darkness. There’s the political fear exemplified by Herod and the religious authorities. We see that kind of fear when we gathered here who are “heirs,” “members of the body,” “partakers of the promise of Jesus,” are just trying to live out the fullest understanding of Jesus’ teachings and authority. When we find things hard to understand, we may remain “in the dark.”
When the religious authorities are no longer a safe guide, our own individual responsibility increases. We will remain stumbling around in the dark if we give up on critical thinking – just as when overdependence upon a charismatic leader risks the trap of our being caught up in a cult. And there is always darkness when the tyranny of the letter of the law overshadows the spirit of love.
The imaginative stories that surround the Magi are part of our remembering and celebrating those truths that are at the heart of the season of Epiphany. Thanks to the poets among us those legendary foreigners from the East still can be our spiritual guides today. They crossed the boundaries of
geography, ethnicity, class, economics, and religion, to follow their star. We, too, have all been given our own star or, better still, each of us has a personal myth or legend to follow. The profound truth is you and I embody God’s dream for the world – this awesome mystery embodied in every human being as we become aware that each of us has the capacity to be a unique and personal expression of God. Epiphany calls us to follow that dream, then, into unlikely places and to see that dream in unlikely and even some very ordinary people.
We don’t gather today just to remember a quaint fable about wise men and a star. We gather to celebrate the bringing together of everything on earth and in heaven in the person of this Jesus of Nazareth. This is a celebration of inclusiveness – of a word made sacred because it extends to all nations and people – indeed to the very “ends of the earth” – because it reveals the meaning of every human moment, every pain, every hope, every joy.
We still live in a world of real darkness and dread. Dark clouds and disintegration are never very far away. And yet we’ve come together today to say, individually and communally, that the darkness will not have the last word. The light has triumphed and so shall we.
So I imagine these magi, seekers after wisdom, now in physical darkness, choosing to go back to “their own country by another road.” What this alternative route was we can only imagine. If you and I are to take our places in this now expanded “august and blessed amphitheatre” – which means that we, now, have got to be the “well prepared listener” – the words of another poet, William Stafford, might be a fair warning for us to heed:
…a pattern that others have made may prevail in the world
and following the wrong god home we may miss our star.11
* * *
1 As happens far too many times with us, Israel has a long history of turning toward and then away from God. When the people remember the events of their past, though, they know that God is with them. But it was hard to “sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land” as the psalmist wrote (Ps. 137: 4) during the time of their bondage in Babylon. Now, though, the exiles have come back home, and “home” is a shambles and God’s house is in ruins. So the prophet’s message here seems unbelievable. And yet reflecting the light of God’s presence can create newness for the entire world. In this poem everybody – all of Jerusalem, the returning exiles, even the surrounding nations – is meant to receive the gift of life.
2 In this part of Matthew’s infancy narrative some respond with joy and others with hostility. For our author the revelation of Jesus, as the Christ, to the gentile magi is the beginning of the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham (Genesis 12: 3).
But why give a newborn baby gold, frankincense and myrrh? We might understand the gold – lots of us like jewelry and some infants are given gold necklaces or pins at their birth or baptism. Gold always seems to hold its value (as we’ve learned in this slumping economy); Mary might appreciate such a gift which she could exchange for food.
But why myrrh and frankincense? Frankincense was one of the elements used in the anointing oils or burnt with other elements during the offering in the Temple. It comes from a plant and gives off a perfumed scent when it’s heated – maybe not a bad idea when you’re living in a stable!
And myrrh? It’s also an ingredient in holy anointing oil. It was used basically as a deodorant, along with aloes, to anoint a dead body; and yet what would Jesus’ parents have thought of that? We read much later in the story that myrrh mixed with wine was offered to Jesus when he hung dying on a cross and, afterward, his dead body was anointed with it.
So you may have heard that if the wise men had been women they would have been much more sensible and brought more appropriate gifts: they would’ve asked for directions, arrived on time, helped deliver the baby, cleaned up the stable, made a casserole, offered much more practical gifts and then there would be peace on earth. On the other hand these may have been unusual gifts because this child is not an ordinary child.
3 The definition of “Epiphany” within the church, of course, is most often associated with an event – i.e., this Christian celebration (usually observed on January 6th) which commemorates the manifestation of Jesus as the Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the Magi. But it also can mean any sudden appearance or manifestation that we would name as sacred. It also can mean a sudden, intuitive perception of the essential meaning of something; and, oddly, enough, that’s usually initiated by some commonplace experience – like childbirth. From there it’s come to mean any literary work that presents (usually symbolically) that kind of a moment of revelation and insight.
4 Julian of Norwich lived in an English cathedral city in the fourteenth, and the beginning of the fifteenth, centuries. A monastic contemplative, she wrote a theological treatise about her “Showing of Love” that could just as well speak to us today. Her work, known as The Revelation of Divine Love, is a writing of a mystical experience which was deepened by many years of prayerful reflection. As she writes at the beginning of her book:
From the time these things were first revealed I had often wanted to know what was our Lord's meaning. It was more than fifteen years after that I was answered in my spirit's understanding. “You would know our Lord's meaning in this thing! Know it well. Love was his meaning. Who showed it you? Love. What did he show you? Love. Why did he show you? Love. Why did he show it? For love. Hold on to this and you will know and understand love more and more. But you will not know or learn anything else – ever!”
5 Compare Luke’s account of Paul speaking to the Athenians who worship “an unknown god” saying to them that this god is actually one in whom “we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17: 28a).
6 Isaiah 60: 1.
7 This is a quote from Basil of Caesarea in his nine homilies entitled The Hexaemeron – meaning “the six days of creation” (see http://www.fisheaters.com/hexaemeron.html). St. Basil was born around A.D. 329, and died on January 1, 379. In between, he studied first in Caesarea, later in Constantinople, and, finally, in Athens. In Athens, he became fast friends with St. Gregory of Nazianzus. This duo fought fiercely against the heresies rampant at that time (especially Arianism) and, along with St. Basil's brother, St. Gregory of Nyssa, became known as "The Three Cappadocians." St. Basil became Bishop of Caesarea in 370 and greatly influenced religious life in both the East and West.
8 Living the Questions 2.0 – An Introduction to Progressive Christianity is a 21-session video series from www.livingthequestions.com written and produced by Jeff Procter-Murphy and David Felten.
9 Felix Bloch in Physics Today 29 (12) 27, 1976.
10 Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk (New York: Harper & Row, Pub., 1982), p. 31.
11 William Stafford, from his poem “Ritual to Read to Each Other”