First Presbyterian Church of Taos
We best serve Christ by loving all!
"Light from unexpected places"
January 8, 2017
Matthew 2:1 -12
Good morning, friends, and blessings to you this day as we observe the Epiphany of our Lord! Now, technically epiphany took place on Friday, January 6th, falling as it always does on the “12th day of Christmas.” But, I’ve decided to use a little “pastoral discretion: in fudging the dates a bit because I love epiphany, and I wanted us to celebrate it together in worship. After all, we’ve waited and hoped for this day for the season of Advent. As the nights got longer and colder, we lit candles to testify to the light that we trusted was coming into the world.
And finally, in the cold of a winter’s night, Christmas came again – it always does, doesn’t it? – and we celebrated the birth of a tiny child, a tiny light, a glimmer of hope.
So now we come to Epiphany – the end of the Christmas season. On this day we turn our eyes to the light of God, no longer a small flicker but a great, powerful light like one we heard about in Isaiah, a light that all the world can see, that reminds us that God’s light shines in the world – still – and the darkness has not, and will not, overcome it.
That’s harder to believe some days than others, isn’t it? Perhaps on days when things are going well for us; when we’re surrounded by friends and loved ones; when, after a long struggle, we’ve finally tasted a bit success. On those days, it’s fairly easy to believe what we proclaim – that the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light, and on those who lived in a land of deep darkness, on them light has shined.
But you know as well as I do that that’s not how every day goes. Some days, no matter how much we might believe or hope, it seems impossible to see that light. Perhaps when we’re wading through the heavy darkness of grief. Or trying to put one foot in front of the other in the face of fear – fear for our families, our communities, our nation, our world. Perhaps we’re facing depression, or addiction, or the loss of a job. Or we’re working overtime but still can’t seem to make ends meet. On days like these, when we look at the road ahead, all we see may be a long, dreary path of darkness. Some days, even some seasons of our lives, that light is extremely hard to see.
We don’t know which sort of day or season it was for the wise men we heard about in today’s Gospel reading. In fact, as familiar as we are with this story, as many Christmas pageants as we’ve attended, as many times as we’ve sung “We Three Kings”, we don’t actually know much about these “wise men” at all! At least as far as the Biblical text is concerned.
Now, over the centuries, we’ve developed traditions about these wise men, traditions that have become so familiar that find ourselves reading them right into the story. We’ve said that they weren’t just wise men, they were kings! And we’ve given them names – King Melchior of Persia; King Gaspar of India; and King Balthasar of Arabia. We’ve assigned meaning to their gifts, as well: gold for Christ the King, frankincense for Christ the Great High Priest, and myrrh, a burial ointment, for Christ who will suffer and die. But Matthew tells us none of that in the text. In fact, if you look closely, he doesn’t even say how many wise men there were! (Seriously, take a look! I was pretty shocked to learn that too!) So much for “We Three Kings”, huh?
And don’t get me wrong, I love that these little pieces of history remembered, or even imagined, have become part of the story as we know it! I think they’re beautiful and even necessary: they’re part of how we interpret and flesh out the story, how our imaginations ponder what it means that Christ is born.
What I do want to point out in all this, though, is that Gospel writers are very intentional about the details they do and don’t include. So when Matthew does give us a detail or two, it
means it’s time to pay attention. In this case, Matthew tells us that these wise men came from the East, which as his original audience would have immediately understood, means they were Gentiles. Many have speculated that they were Persian astrologers since they clearly were interested in reading the stars, but the point is that they were not Jews, they were not the ones who had been waiting for and expecting a Messiah.
And yet, here they are, following a star to the place where Christ was born. Did they know what they were looking for, what it meant to find, “the child born king of the Jews”? Your guess is as good as mine. All we know is that they saw God’s light shining, and they followed it.
But before that light leads them to Bethlehem, it leads them to Jerusalem, where King Herod and the leaders of Israel reside. And, perhaps understandably, they ask these religious and political authorities, “Where is the child born king of the Jews? Where is this star from God leading us? Surely you must know! We’re on the outside here, but the star has led us to your country. Tell us, what’s going on? Where do we go now?”
And as it turns out, the scribes and chief priests do know a prophecy of Micah saying the Messiah will be born in Bethlehem. So the wise men continue their journey. And when they finally find the Christ child, Matthew tells us, they are overwhelmed with joy. They bow down and worship him, and present him with gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They saw God’s light in the distance, in faith they followed where it led, and now they meet God’s light in flesh and blood in Jesus Christ. These outsiders, these “wrong people” – they have gotten it all right!
But meanwhile, Herod and the leaders in Jerusalem are frightened by this news. You see, Herod is the one who currently calls himself “king of the Jews”. If what the wise men have told them about this child is true, well, that poses a pretty significant threat to the power that Herod and the Jerusalem leaders hold. This light from God turns things upside down. It threatens the status quo, a status quo with which Herod and the leaders are quite comfortable. The Gospel is remarkably consistent, isn’t it? For at his birth, the good news of Jesus Christ does not sound like good news at all to those who seek to control and dominate others.
I imagine you know how this story ends. Herod is determined to destroy this threat to his power, so when the wise men won’t help, he goes on a murderous rampage, killing all the children in Bethlehem who are under two years old, a massacre that Jesus only escapes because his family flees to Egypt as refugees.
So, the so-called “wrong” people get it right, and the “right” people get it wrong. Both Herod and the wise men witness God’s light in the epiphany of Jesus Christ. And that light is unexpected, disorienting, and yes, I would imagine, frightening to both. But where the wise men step forward in faith and follow that light, Herod and his cronies give into their fear and do all they can to put it out.
I’m a little hesitant to admit this, especially on my first Sunday as your pastor, but if I’m honest with myself, I think I can understand where Herod’s coming from. No, I’m not a power-hungry despot willing to murder innocent children to maintain power, so you can breathe out now. But when I imagine the possibility of God’s light bursting unexpectedly into my world, disrupting everything I think I know...Well, I think I would be tempted to respond a bit like Herod did, digging in his heels and clinging to the status quo.
I imagine I’m not the only one among us today who finds comfort in sticking with what’s familiar. There’s security, isn’t there, in what is known, what is expected? The right people in the right place at the right time, everything going according to schedule, thank you very much. And if something crops up that looks like it might disrupt that familiar, comfortable, way of doing things – something like, say, a star rising in the sky – maybe it’d be easier to just…ignore it.
It’s uncomfortable, frightening really, to think of responding like the wise men did. To see a light in the distance, take a deep breath of faith, and say, “I don’t know what this is, I don’t know what it means, and I don’t know where it leads, but I am going to follow it. Because there is one thing I do know about this light – and I can’t tell you exactly how I know – but I know that this light comes from God.”
Because when it comes down to it, we worship a God who doesn’t have much to say for expectations. We worship the God who called Abraham and Sarah to leave their country and start a new nation, the God who called Moses out of Pharaoh’s palace to set the Hebrew people free, the God who appeared to Mary and told that she would give birth to a child out of wedlock, and that child would be Emmanuel, God with us.
Where might God’s light be shining into your life? This morning? This season? This new year? Perhaps it comes in an unexpected phone call from a friend or family member you haven’t heard from in years. Or a door opening up to explore a new career.
Can you feel the light today, or is today one of those days that’s shrouded in darkness? Is there light coming from an unexpected corner of your life, in a way you didn’t plan for? Maybe it comes in a conversation with someone who makes you feel uncomfortable, a person you’ve written off as someone with whom you have nothing in common, with whom you have nothing to learn. Could God’s light be pushing you beyond your comfort zone, asking something of you that makes you think it might be easier to turn the other way?
In any of these circumstances and so anymore, when we catch a glimpse of God’s light in our lives, we are faced with the same choice as Herod and the wise men. Will we cling to the security of the familiar? Or will we take a small, even tentative step forward into uncharted territory?
It’s a frightening step to take, to be sure. But friends, the good news is that we already know where this light will ultimately lead us. For just like the star the wise men followed, the light of God will always lead us the right to the Christ child. We may wade through discomfort, but our journey leads to the one who sends us the Holy Comforter. We may venture into the unknown, but when we do, we meet the one who knows us through and through, who calls us by name. To Jesus, who feeds his flock like a shepherd and carries the lambs in his arms.
So arise, friends, and shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. It may not look like we thought it would. It may be shining from somewhere or someone we would never have expected. It may be beckoning us in unknown directions. And some days, it may such a faint glimmer that we can barely make it out in the darkness.
But still, that light shines. Rest for a moment, and feel it. Bask in the light that sustains, empowers, and renews us. For, as we sang earlier, “in [these] dark streets shineth the everlasting light; the hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.”
Thanks be to God. Amen.
