Epiphany 2, Year A, 2008

A dear friend of mine recently moved to New York City.  She is a gifted actress, recently graduated from UVA, and is working in a legal office by day and acting in a play by night.  Every few months she sends long, gossipy emails about her new life filled with stories of life in a small apartment, working in a big city office, the auditioning process, and of course celebrity sightings.

Recently, she went to see Cyrano de Bergerac, starring Kevin Kline and Jennifer Garner.  After the play, they went around to the back door in order to catch a glimpse of the stars exiting the building.  My friend was at the back of the pack of people, and I’ll quote from her email to tell you what happened next,

We were reconciling ourselves to trying to get pictures of the famous people by waving our camera in the air over our heads (which yielded a surprisingly awesome picture of JG) when a little door immediately behind us opened and a bodyguard-ish type person poked his head out.  We looked around in surprise, as we were the only people who noticed him, and he holds the door open and out sails MATT-freaking-DAMON.  Matt Damon.  Matt Damon saw the show the same night we did.  And of course, OF COURSE we didn’t take his picture/speak to him/tell him we loved him because we were too busy squealing at each other and yanking each other’s arms and squealing some more.  I am way too easily starstruck to be an actor. 

I tell this story, because I think her experience parallels the experience of those who followed Jesus in our Gospel reading today.  People had flocked to be baptized by John. They were fascinated by him, drawn by his message.  While they were excited to see him, they were also expecting to see him.  Seeing Jesus, however, was a huge surprise.  A few of the disciples start following him around, star struck in their own way.  He senses they are behind him, turns around and asks them, “What are you looking for?”

And they become completely flustered.  This was not just a movie star they were following, this was God.  Even if they did not realize that consciously, they sense there is something wonderful about Jesus.  They cannot pull themselves together, and instead ask the Messiah, “Um, uh, where are you staying?”

Jesus next issues the most important invitation these people will ever receive.  He invites them to “Come and see.”

Come and see.  Jesus does not give them a direct answer.  He does not lecture them.  He does not bombard them with theological arguments or grandiose pronouncements about himself.  He simply invites them to come and see for themselves. 

The experience of knowing Jesus can never be fully explained or taught.  In order to know Jesus, one has to encounter him. 

This invitation to come and see is repeated an additional three times in the Gospel of John.  Soon, after Jesus offers his invitation, Philip is talking to his friend Nathanel who asks, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  Philip says, “Come and see”. Next, after Jesus engages with the woman at the well, she goes and tells her friends, “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”  Finally, when Jesus has come to visit a grieving Mary and Martha after their brother Lazarus’s death, he asks where the tomb is, and they invite him to come and see.  Ironically, it is they who will really see and understand when Jesus raises his friend Lazarus from the dead.

Can you imagine what it must have been like for these star-struck followers of Jesus to be issued an invitation to come and see?  I can assure you, Matt Damon did not invite my friend to follow him around, and even if she had, I don’t know that she would have gotten much out of it. 

Following Jesus, however, is another matter.  To follow Jesus, to observe Jesus as he went about his daily business, was a chance to observe God.  To follow Jesus, was an opportunity to engage with the God who created all of us, to understand what his love means for us.  To follow Jesus was to learn about how to be fully human.

Thankfully, Jesus’ invitation to come and see is not limited to those encounters recorded in the Gospel of John.  We, too, are invited to come and see.  To come and see what happens when we begin to pray more regularly, or study scripture, or serve the poor.  We’re asked to come and see what Jesus was doing in Biblical days and what Jesus is doing today.

And while it may not feel like it, our annual meeting is another chance for us to come and see what Jesus is doing in our midst.  The administrative part of church life may not feel as uplifting or spiritual as the ritual or fellowship part of the church life, but Jesus works amidst those decisions, too. 

As we choose our leaders for the next year, and engage in conversations about issues relevant to our life together, we have the chance to discern where Jesus is working in this church and in the greater community. 

So, come to the annual meeting and listen very, very carefully.  You may hear Jesus invite you to come and see.

Epiphany, Year A, 2008

Epiphany: it is a word that evokes inspiration! Lightbulb moments! Big breakthroughs!

Why then, was this Epiphany sermon so hard to write?  This should be an easy sermon-I could write something really poetic about how our encounters with Jesus parallel the encounters of the Magi.  I could write something about how we each bring gifts to Jesus.  I could write something about how life is a journey, but ultimately we find and are found by Jesus. 

Instead, this year, when I read the Epiphany story, the story of the wise men really bothered me.

After all, the wise men were not kings.  There were not three of them.  The wise men do not go to a stable or see Jesus in a manger. They didn’t even bring camels with them! Is nothing sacred?

Like many stories in the Bible, the Sunday School image we have of the Epiphany story does not match up with the actual text.  The story is different, and much darker, than the one we re-enact in Christmas pageants and carols.

So who were these wise men that visited Jesus? 

The Greek word for these wise men is magos, which is where we get the word Magi.  Magi were political and also religious advisors to the kings of Persia.  They were probably nothing like what would happen if Karl Rove and Billy Graham merged into one person, but that can be a starting point for us to understand their function.  In their culture and time, kings wanted to read the religious landscape as well as the political landscape and Magi were their translators.  Magi were not part of the Jewish tradition, and part of their religious practice was to read the stars for meaning and wisdom.  When we think of astrology today, we think of newspaper columns and batty old ladies, but for the magi, astrology was a way to understand the universe.

So, when the Magi read the stars and see something unusual-about a new King of the Jews in Bethlehem–they are intrigued and go on a journey to meet this new king.  They get to Jerusalem and start gabbing about this king, and soon enough word gets to Herod.  Herod was the official King of the Jews, but Herod’s appointment was purely political.  He was a Jew yes, but by all accounts a Jew in name only.  He was appointed by the Roman government and was their puppet.  In addition, Herod was not a stable person.  Herod was the kind of person who loves power, but is fundamentally insecure, so must undermine everyone around him.  You may have worked for a mini-Herod at someone point in your life.  The more power people like Herod get, the more damage they can do.  Herod considers this baby a huge threat to him, and so orders the Magi to go and search for the baby and report back to him.

Remember, the Magi aren’t even his employees.  They are just wise men, from hundreds of miles away, but since they were going to go on this journey anyway, they acquiesce and make the journey to Bethlehem. 

They see the star, just as they predicted, and find Jesus in a house, not a stable. 

And here is where the story really starts to get upsetting.  After the Magi worship Jesus, they are warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so then the wise men go on their merry way, back to their riches, back to their safe life.

Have you ever wondered what happens after the Magi leave Bethlehem?  Well, in the latter part of the second chapter of Matthew, Joseph also has a dream that tells him to get out of dodge, so he, Mary and baby Jesus become refugees in Egypt.  And if that is not bad enough, Herod orders all the baby boys of Bethlehem, age two years and under to be executed.  And they are.

I don’t believe the massacre of the infants is ever mentioned in the New Testament again, but I wonder how it affected Jesus.  Did he know it happened?  Did he feel guilty?  Was that part of the reason he was so kind and welcoming to children?  Was the massacre why he was so critical of those in power?  Did he have any memories of Joseph and Mary terrified, sheltering him in Egypt, wanting desperately to go home?

Happy Epiphany, indeed.

This Epiphany, I want the Magi to be more heroic.  I want their faith and excitement about the birth of Jesus to motivate them to stop Herod’s madness.  I want them to do something about the impending massacre.  I don’t want them to run away to safety.  I want them to stand up and fight.  I want them to use their wealth and intelligence to trick Herod or have him deposed.  The Christmas story is all about people of little influence-shepherds, a carpenter, a young woman-whom God uses to bring about the salvation of the world.  The only set of characters in the story who have any power or wealth are the Magi.  And the Magi run away. 

God did not ask the Magi to stand up to Herod, so maybe hero was not their role, or maybe they understood that this Christmas story was not all shiny stars and gifts of gold. Maybe they understood that the birth of Christ has a dark side.  After all, one of the gifts they brought Jesus was myrrh-a fluid used in embalming.  Maybe their visit was both worship and a warning.  Maybe the Magi are in the story to warn Jesus and his parents that his journey will not be an easy one.  Maybe they are in the story to remind us that Christmas is followed by Good Friday.  And in this year, with only six weeks between Christmas and Lent, we will barely have put away the Christmas ornaments, before it is time to cloak ourselves in the memory of Christ’s death. 

But maybe we, as Christ’s followers–who have seen the horrors of Herod’s massacre, the Crusades, the Inquisition, the Holocaust, genocide in Rwanda and Sudan or this week in Kenya-maybe we who have the benefit of history-Maybe we can stand up to the Herods of this world even if the Magi were not in the position to do so.  We have the wealth. We have the power.  Heck, we even have the internet!  Maybe it is up to us, through our votes, through our charitable donations, through our advocacy to help stop future massacres, future despots.  Or, maybe we start smaller, and just deal with the mini-Herods in our workplaces or families.  Maybe we finally stand up to them knowing that we have the power of Christ-he who was born, died and rose again-behind us.  Maybe that is our gift to the Christ Child this Epiphany-that we will do all in our power to protect families like his family, and children like those who were slaughtered by a ruthless leader so many years ago.

For the power of the Herods of the world isn’t real power-it is just thuggery.  We have the real power-the power of a loving, creative, holy God who works in us and through us for good. 

And maybe that is our epiphany this Epiphany-that despite the dark underbelly of the Christian story-the Herods of the world do not win. The powerless, and those who love justice and those who practice mercy are all vindicated and redeemed by Christ’s resurrection, while the Herods of the world are left to the judgment of God. 

And that’s the good news that compelled three Magi from Persia to travel hundreds of miles to a no-count town in Israel to worship a tiny baby-A tiny baby that would change everything. 

Amen.