We’ve heard it a thousand times, a mash-up from the gospels of Matthew and Luke and the imaginings of a dozen Christmas hymn lyrics.
The angel Gabriel darting around making more predictions than commentators on ESPN. Receptive women and reluctant, doubtful husbands. Waiting. Some singing of hymns of praise. Then, the weary family, a trace of scandal hanging over their unusual pregnancy. The lack of space for them to rest, accepting the indignity of bedding down with the cattle in a cave beneath the inn. The imagined filth and dust as they deliver their child themselves and place him in a feeding trough. Shepherds startled out of their boredom in their fields by flashes of light and angelic pronouncements and hallelujah choirs. And then, a wait, a shift to a house, and sumptuously attired exotic visitors from the East, led by astrological signs to seek out an infant boy whose birth they foresaw in the stars.
It sounds fantastic, like a fairy tale. And we live in a world where fairy tales would have died out completely if it wasn’t for Walt Disney.
Today, we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany. Epiphany is a Greek word, that means the manifestation or revealing of Christ as the son of God to nations beyond the Jews. The Magi represent the rest of the world being drawn into the embrace of God, as the prophet Isaiah predicted. “Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” And so we have what tradition had named the Three Kings following the light of a star from Persia, to the East—a star that flared into existence to announce the birth of a God. They bring gold and frankincense, signs of wealth and holiness, just as Isaiah described—but also myrrh, a spice used in embalming. Our psalm likewise talks of kings bringing gifts of tribute.
These Kings are also known as “wise men.” Why are they wise? Because, as non-Jews, they know something the “king” of the Jews, Herod, should know. They obviously expect Herod (and everyone else in Jerusalem) to know, and stop in Jerusalem so that they can fine-tune their directions.
Yet, they get their first surprise, for not only do the people of Jerusalem and their king NOT know about the birth of this new king, they are completely terrified by the possibility that there could be a new king on the horizon. One has to wonder why, if the Wise Men WERE indeed so wise, they might not have foreseen this possibility—since the birth of a new king means the end of the reign of the current king, and kings usually don’t take being deposed too well.
So these pagans also accidentally warn the local dictator that there is a legitimate rival for his fraudulent claim to be king. They may be called wise men, but this is a misstep that will later cause Herod to lash out and slaughter hundreds of innocents. They continue on their way with the star leading them, and find what must have been a letdown. No palaces, so sumptuous lodgings, but a poor peasant family, in a house now at least, but still not obviously destined for greatness at first glance, or even second or third. Nonetheless, their hearts tell them they have found what they are searching for, and they present their precious gifts, and worship the little baby. And like good guests visiting a family with a newborn, they don’t overstay their welcome. They have a long journey home in which to make sense of all they have seen. So after their dreams warn them not to go back through the road that goes by Herod’s palace, they return home by another way.
So what is the point of this story to our jaded ears?
At the most basic level, in Matthew’s gospel it is Gentile wise men who are the first to recognize and proclaim of the special quality of Jesus as divine and a holy child at his birth. They come to pay homage to a child born, according to prophecy, as king of the Jews, even though they are, again, not Jewish religious scholars but strangers who nonetheless have the imagination and faith to follow the signs they perceive. Thus the Magi represent that God’s plan and love is for all of us, God reaches out to all who can open their eyes, and have the faith to interpret and see the signs. The light has come to the Gentiles, but the people of Israel do not yet really see the signs and interpret them yet.
But I think the last sentence of our reading holds a key for us, living 2000 years later. After seeing and recognizing Jesus as holy, they go home another way. They are placed on another path.
In other words, worship is easy. It’s joyful, and uplifting. But allowing it to transform us and our perceptions, the way we see and interact with the world and each other and with God? That’s particularly challenging BECAUSE we have become so blind to the idea of the miraculous and the wondrous imprint of God that we encounter in Jesus., and in creation all around us.
The great Episcopal lay theologian and teacher Verna Dozier makes much the same point in her masterpiece, The Dream of God:
“The church missed its high calling to be a new thing in the world when it decided to worship Jesus instead of follow him. We live in a day when it would be equally offensive to those who bear the name of Christian to hear Jesus blasphemed as to see him followed. And yet discipleship, not worship is what Jesus called for….” (Dozier, loc 1120).
She points out that in every instance of Jesus’s adult life, when someone attempted to worship Jesus, he stopped them, asking them instead to do the harder thing and FOLLOW him:
“Worship is setting Jesus on a pedestal, distancing him, enshrining (enshrouding) him in liturgies, stained glass windows, Biblical translations, medallions, pilgrimage to places where he walked—the whole nine yards. Following him is doing what he did, weeping over situation that was so far removed from the dream of God and spending his life to make it different. Following is discipleship…. Following Jesus is having that clear eyed vision of whom we serve.” (Dozier, 1148)
This is where I believe we are called to expand our understanding of what an epiphany is. Epiphany also means a sudden shift in our insight or understanding, a “eureka!” moment in which our perception of the world is completely changed. Even though it is left unsaid, I believe those Wise Men returned to their homes and told what they had seen, yes, but I also am convinced they came back years later to hear that young rabbi preach as he walked the shores of lakes and rivers and taught people from the heights of hills. I believe the shift in their perception as they held that tiny baby in their rough hands began working in their hearts even before Jesus uttered his first word.
Because epiphanies do not usually come in words, but in insight. In being willing to look around with new eyes and see wonders in the ordinary—wonders that reawaken us to the nearness and presence of God in our everyday lives, if we allow the light of God to lodge within our hearts.
The encounter the Magi had with the Holy Family undoubtedly left them changed. It also led them to find their way home by a different path than the one they had taken before. And that’s the way it is with epiphanies, isn’t it? They change you, and they change your understanding of the path that you are on. Epiphanies point us to another way home.
Jesus calls us to enlarge our own horizons, just as the star caused the Magi to enlarge theirs. Specifically, Jesus calls us to worship, and to offering, absolutely—but more importantly, Jesus calls us to be formed and shaped by that worship and that offering to see the world with new eyes. But more importantly, Jesus calls us to USE that insight to join in the work of restoring creation and our relationships within creation so that they are based on healing, reconciliation, and compassion. Jesus calls us to renewal, to reconciliation, to discipleship.
This is a new year. It’s a new opportunity to commit to living with a renewed commitment to our ministry as Christians. The days grow longer with each week; may our hearts and our courage grow just as surely. May we commit ourselves to following the light of Christ, and welcoming it into our hearts, so that we may live unafraid, united, in service to God and each other.
Amen.
The encounter the Magi had with the Holy Family undoubtedly left them changed. It also led them to find their way home by a different path than the one they had taken before. And that’s the way it is with epiphanies, isn’t it? They change you, and they change your understanding of the path that you are on. Epiphanies point us to another way home.
Jesus calls us to enlarge our own horizons, just as the star caused the Magi to enlarge theirs. Specifically, Jesus calls us to worship, and to offering, absolutely—but more importantly, Jesus calls us to be formed and shaped by that worship and that offering to see the world with new eyes. But more importantly, Jesus calls us to USE that insight to join in the work of restoring creation and our relationships within creation so that they are based on healing, reconciliation, and compassion. Jesus calls us to renewal, to reconciliation, to discipleship.
This is a new year. It’s a new opportunity to commit to living with a renewed commitment to our ministry as Christians. The days grow longer with each week; may our hearts and our courage grow just as surely. May we commit ourselves to following the light of Christ, and welcoming it into our hearts, so that we may live unafraid, united, in service to God and each other.
Amen.
Preached at the 505 on January 7 and at the 10:30 Holy Eucharist on January 8, 2023 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.
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