Hebrew Scriptures – Isaiah 60: 1-61
1 Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you. 2 For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. 3 Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. 4 Lift 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. 5 Then 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. 6 A 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 – 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.” When 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.
“Rise and Shine!”
Years ago I remember reading a short story about a man – not unlike myself at the time: married and with a family – who was a high-school teacher of astronomy and biology. In the course of the story he shares with us a few things that move him deeply. One is nature; another is “the spectacle of a thousand human beings organizing themselves into a single room to hear the quartets of Beethoven,” and another is riding in a car “across a cantilever span above the Mississippi,” mother of all rivers. “These moments overwhelm me,” he says.3
Much of the story narrates an argument between him and his neighbor, Mr. Pike, over a diseased elm tree. Toward the end of the story, though, he is stopped in his tracks seeing through his neighbor’s window the other man on the couch with his arm on his own son’s shoulder, occasionally tousling his hair – the two of them enjoying a father-and-son moment (one I know so well), simply watching TV and laughing together. Our protagonist suddenly senses yet one more of his “marvelous moments.” So he steps away from the house and looks up at the stars – friends of his for many, many years – and he says to himself:
I tried to see [the stars] for their beauty
and mystery…. Some clouds had blown in and begun to cover
Auriga and Taurus. I was watching them begin to spread and refract
moonlight when I heard the paper boy whistling the national anthem.
When he reached me, I said, “I want you to do something for
me.”
“Sir?”
“I’m
an old man and I want you to do something for me. Put down your
bicycle,” I said. “Put down your bicycle and look up at
the stars.”4
I remember doing just that throughout my own childhood; and I’ve always been stunned with awe at a night sky filled with stars. In the Caribbean where I grew up, without any city lights or air pollution to mar the view, the night sky never failed to hold me transfixed with its beauty and mystery.
This is the message to us today. Put everything down. Look up. Then let our conversations of thanksgiving be about those moments that “overwhelm us” and fill us with wonder. When we find that we are able to do this, we begin to truly see. “Lift up your eyes and look around!” the prophet cries out. These startling words open us up to the heart of this season: they speak to us of the real birth of Christmas and lead us into the way of Epiphany. I remember being present at the birth of our first granddaughter, Samantha, and yet a birth of any kind causes us to momentarily stand still in the celebration of that created moment.
Here at the beginning of yet another new year many more questions than answers come to us. “Where is this child who’s been born king of the Jews?” “Where am I supposed to go in this sacred journey that we call life?” If we are to remain fully alive we all have to nurture that longing for a sense of direction. The magi were directed by Herod with the words, “Go and search diligently for the child.”
I wonder, how long did these Persian astrologers linger? The story just says that they offered the child some gifts and were on their way again. Did they really stop long enough to take it all in, this incredible event that has since transformed the hearts and lives of believers? From the wisdom of their own tradition they brought gifts that held profound value and meaning for them. What did they do with the gift that was given to them, as feelings of joy overwhelmed them?
I remember with a deep feeling of love – and can hear his voice even to this day – the sound of my father on camping trips, as he stirred very early in the morning, stoked the fire back to life just outside our tent, and would say, “Rise and shine!” Of course I would snuggle even deeper down into my sleeping bag and hold out until the very last moment the time that I had to jump into clothes and boots gone cold in the night, but looking forward to warming myself by the fire with my father by my side…. Why is it that biscuits, butter, bacon and eggs taste so fine in the wild wonder of an early morning outdoors?
“Rise and shine…your light has come.” The glory of God can and will overwhelm us – if we’re paying attention.
The world still has much in it for us to see. Hurried lives keep us from looking around, though. “There isn’t enough time.” “I’m never home.” These words all too often are said with pride, as if we’re pointing to a badge on our lapel – no one’s ever been criticized for being busy! And yet later in my own life I have come to understand that what I was often criticized for as a child is actually one of the greatest gifts that I’ve been given: I was labeled a “day-dreamer.” I would spend hours up in a tree or staring in wonder at another world underwater until my fingers and toes looked like prunes. I’m sure that I had such trouble in Algebra and Chemistry classes because I was contemplating the clouds that moved outside above the window next to my desk. How was I to know that contemplative moments would become some of the most cherished moments of my life?
I came to know this because in dialogue with someone else, I came to know those things that I held in highest regard in my own life. I’ve talked a lot about the importance of dialogue ever since I’ve invited people to consider what it means to be a Progressive Christian church. Dialogue is you helping me to know what I already know. And so we are sent out from worship each Sunday to bear witness to the many ways in which God has gifted our world.
When we are capable of stopping we begin to see. The birth of the Christ in a small child is our mystery, and so it is our epiphany. We too, now, follow the star that brings us to the wisdom of God found in this family. We are – as we celebrate in this holy and yet common union of bread and the cup – members of the same body and those who now share in the promise given in the life of one Jesus of Nazareth. The challenge and hope of this epiphany are in direct proportion, though, to our willingness to respond to the words, “Rise and shine! Lift up your eyes and look around….”
* * *
1 We call today Epiphany because it’s derived from the Greek word epiphaneia, which means “manifestation” – in the sense of “embodiment,” “revelation,” or even “incarnation” and has always been used in particular reference to that of a deity – whether in a person or by means of some powerful act. Oddly enough the word itself doesn’t occur in the Greek text of any of today’s scripture readings, but it is used to refer to the birth of Jesus in 2 Timothy 1: 10. Epiphany celebrates the manifestation of the newborn King of the Jews, the Messiah (Christ), long waited for by Israel and now also revealed to the gentile nations – a manifestation announced by the appearance of a star. As the tradition claims, the Light to all nations is to be found in a newborn infant in Bethlehem. In him the glory of Israel has become flesh; the Mystery of God, hidden for all ages, is revealed.
The words of an anonymous prophet in the Book of Isaiah are addressed to a dispirited Jerusalem toward the end of the Babylonian captivity – shortly before the people return. The city and its people have been shrouded in darkness in the wake of its destruction and the deportation of its citizens. The prophet calls them to rise up from this spirit of desolation, take a good look at what God is doing in their midst, and embody the light that they find there.
2 In Matthew’s narrative of the magi the epiphany is rooted in the ancient cultures of Israel and Persia, and yet transcends them both. All reputable biblical scholars agree that this account was not written by the tax collector who was an eyewitness to the ministry of Jesus. Instead it’s probably the work of an anonymous Christian written toward the end of the first century – maybe around 85 C.E. For simplicity’s sake we all refer to the author as “Matthew,” but there’s considerable discussion among scholars as to whether this anonymous author was a Christian of Jewish or gentile extraction – he does seem to be writing to and for the Jews, however.
The child in our story belongs to a people whose ancestors can be named, whose lineage is unashamedly and humanly flawed. The child (so the story goes) is cared for by a very young mother and an adoptive father who are nobodies in the eyes of the Herods and the priests and scribes, yet mysteriously acknowledged by these alien astrologers. The God who anoints this child (the word Messiah/Christ, itself, means “anointed one”) speaks across vast frontiers and expanses of land in the universal language of the stars and in the deeply symbolic world of dreams. The manifestation of God’s presence is always discernible for those who care to look for its signs – and they remain everywhere.
3 Ethan Canin, in “Emperor of the Air” (New York: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1985).
4 Ibid.