Sunday, Jan. 6, 2008 - Epiphany Sunday
We’ve made it to the Magi. Six weeks ago we walked “through the wardrobe” of the gospel narratives and set foot in the “Narnia” of the nativity. Sermon after sermon, we have sat on the sidelines of the Christmas story and gotten to know all of the players. Their struggles have become our own, and yet we’ve shared in their joys as our signs of hope as well.
Zechariah left us dumbstruck at the power of God to stifle our senses in order to surprise us when we least expect it.
Mary opened her womb for us to meet the Christ child who was being fed by her faith so that we might find faith.
Joseph hammered into us the courage to let doubt fuel our faithfulness to Christ, even when we may never fully know his Truth.
The shepherds were privy to the first peek at baby Jesus, inconveniently making us step back patiently and open our doorways hospitably.
The angel Gabriel broke through our thick veil of human ignorance with messages that bore the Word of God to us face-to-face with unquestionable grace.
And King Herod. Herod fiercely flexed his power out of fear, but his gory massacre just gave way to the glory of the Messiah.
So – here we are – at the end of this sermon series, tired of talking about this same old story and ready for the chaos of Christmas to be over and done with. Yet, ironically, it is just when we think this story is over, just when we have recycled all our ripped wrapping paper, just when the new video game no longer holds your child captive for hours, just when the leftovers have worked their way to the back of the fridge to mold – that we are supposed to be starstruck, like the Magi. It is today that we are to worship the Christ child with a new and unexpected wide-eyed wonder!
We’ve made it to the Magi because the Magi have made it to the Messiah. And the Magi have made it to the Messiah because they wondered as they wandered – following a star with child-like abandonment, believing in the power of a newborn baby to change the world.
Today – on Epiphany – we relive the wonder of Christmas night. The baby born as king of the Jews is today revealed as Lord of All…a Messiah for the masses, not just for the majesty of an elite few. Literally, an “epiphany” is a “lifting of the veil” or a “revelation,” and in our Christian Liturgical Year it represents the “manifestation of Christ to the world.” Whereas the baby Jesus was known to a Jewish Mary and Joseph from his birth, the adoration of Christ by the Magi, by these Eastern, pagan astrologers, became a monumental moment in our biblical history. Under this starlit night, Jesus literally became the Light of the World.
It’s no wonder that nowadays we talk about having an “epiphany” as like a light bulb going off in our heads. An epiphany in this sense refers to “a sudden intuitive leap of understanding, especially through an ordinary but striking occurrence.” How much more ordinary can a stable birth to a poor young Jewish couple be? And yet how much more striking could God coming down to earth in the fleshly form of a tiny babe be? We get the sense from Matthew that these Magi had an intuition all along that something was special about this baby, but it is not until they are stopped under the star and staring at the baby Jesus that they are truly starstruck.
Now, this is not the kind of starstruck like we remember from the old Warner Brothers cartoons where the Road Runner would run smack into something and the stars would swirl around his goofy cross-eyed expression of disorientation and pain.
And this is not the kind of nauseating starstruck that we celebrity-addicted Americans have about having to know every detail about Britney Spears’ parenting skills and custody battles or about Tony Romo’s last date – who was he with, what did he wear, and where did they go?
No, the kind of starstruck that swept over the Magi upon viewing the Christ Child was a pure childlike wonder and awe. It was a humility that comes from letting go of all rational explanations in order to bow down to a mystery greater than they could ever imagine. It was a curiosity that chased a glittering star even as King Herod was plotting the darkest of nights.
The Magi were foreigners – Easterners. They were not Jews, and no, they were actually not kings. In fact, there were probably more than three of them. The Magi were sorcerers of sorts who knew nothing of the Scripture that the scribes and chief priests knew. They merely followed a star that caught their attention, and they wondered what this great sign could mean. They had heard through the grapevine that a new king of the Jews had been born, but they didn’t know what that meant or even why it mattered so much. Even though these “pagan” Magi were not seen as persons of faith because they were not Jews, isn’t it intriguing that their entire journey to the manger was fueled by faith in a star?
The Magi had faith that there was something special about that star, even though they knew nothing else. And so they followed it – sought out its origins and purpose, walked past any doubts or skepticism – and in the end, they found faith in the fulfillment of their journey. At the end of the search, they found God – and the world found God through their witness.
You may have noticed a common theme among our cast of characters in the past few weeks. Zechariah doubted the power of God to give him a son in his old age. Mary harbored doubts – could this really be happening to me? Joseph probably doubted his whole life the faithfulness of his wife. The shepherds doubted their chosenness, and Gabriel brought Good News to doubting people. King Herod doubted his power over this child and feared for his kingship.
The Christmas story is laced with doubt. But even more, it is laced with a willingness to walk forward in faith. Each person was made vulnerable under the power and mystery of God. They were as vulnerable as children, but as trusting and curious as children as well.
And the Magi were no different. Everything about their journey seems childlike to me. Children ask questions that catch us off guard with their profound simplicity – “why is the sky blue?” or “when it rains, does that mean God is crying?“ The Magi asked a question to Herod out of a similar childlike curiosity: “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?”
And children observe things that adults have become blind to … think of all the babies in George’s arms at dedications that look up and marvel at the chandelier lights. “For we observed his star at its rising.”
Children chase after the thoughts of their imaginations with singular focus and determination: “I want to build a fort. I need some pillows and cushions. And boxes. And a sheet. And … some tape.” “And we have come to pay him homage.”
Children stand starstruck at the most basic of pleasures and discoveries: Poking an earthworm. Petting a puppy. Blowing bubbles. “When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.”
Children approach people and act on their instincts without thinking about whether they are interrupting people or doing the “right” thing. “Mommy, (tug) I need to go to the bathroom.” “On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts.”
And children disobey instructions from their “elders” when doing something else seems better. Dad sends them to the bathroom to brush their teeth for bed, and they wander to their bedroom and decide now is the time to put on the Spiderman costume again. “And having been warned a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.”
Jesus grows up to say that we must have faith like a child to inherit the kingdom of God. We have to be stripped of our pride in our intellect and confidence in “our way being the right way” in order to really see and experience the full wonders of faith that God is constantly revealing to us.
The way to faith is paved with a sense of wonder that cannot be squelched by doubt or despair or even ignorance.
How starstruck are you these days?
We go through life focused on ourselves and the problems of our narrow lives. Would you drop everything to follow a star in the sky if you thought it might lead to something special? I’m afraid most of us wouldn’t even look up to see the star in the first place.
And how starstruck are you in church these days? Most of us are so used to worshiping at Wilshire that we just go through the motions and always assume we know what’s coming next. *** The organist begins playing the minister of music stands up.*** (congregation sings: O star of wonder, star of night, star with royal beauty bright, Westward leading, still proceeding, Guide us to thy perfect light.”)
We must not lose the wonder and spontaneity in worshiping God.
The Magi were alive with the wonderment of children. We grow up so fast in life. Too fast. But we grownups do not have to leave our childhood completely behind us. We would do well to look to those who are younger and perhaps a little less conventionally “knowledgeable or experienced” than we are. Because it is precisely their eyes that are truly wise and are open to epiphanies.
A few years ago I was home for the holidays in Dallas – and I had the joy of sitting beside my 3-year-old cousin Tanner in worship (He’s now 7, by the way). Now, Tanner had only been coming to “big church” for a couple of months or so. This was cool stuff to him. His older sister took great pleasure in knowing just when to stand and when to listen and when to sing and when to rest her head on Mommy’s lap (not during the sermon, of course). But I took great pleasure in watching Tanner NOT know exactly what was going on.
His wonderment was compelling and contagious. He was learning how to worship by watching all of us worship. He took everything in.
His eyes lit up, and he wiggled up on his knees to see the organ pipes when the first bell chimed the hour. He tugged on my elbow and pointed at the Advent wreath making sure that I noticed how the candlelight flickered when the little girl reached up and touched the candle with the long gold lighter. He swung his feet in time with the offertory, and he put his coins carefully in the offering plate as it went by. He closed his eyes tight when we prayed, folded his hands – checked off each hymn with the pew pencil in the order of service, and held his Bible in his lap as the texts were read, even though he could not yet read himself. Tanner was three, but he was worshiping.
He was absorbing the glory of God through the people and sounds and aesthetics of Church. He didn’t have to know the Lord’s Prayer or understand the Trinity or even understand the sermon to be growing in faith. He got it. More so than most of us. He just liked being there – he said to me later that day after church, with a glimmer in his eye, “Big Church is special, Annie.” (“I know, Tanner. It really is.”) Surely God was glorified in Tanner’s awe and wonderment in worship. What a gift. To God – and to us.
So here you are at the beginning of a new year, sitting in the sanctuary of Wilshire Baptist Church. Is there any wonderment left in these services for you? Are you here out of ritual, obligation, guilt, or routine? Or are you here out of a sense of wonderment for what might happen at Wilshire today – because you don’t want to miss what transformative moment might take place within these walls on this morning with these people?
If you feel like you need an epiphany in your life – a jumpstart to your faith – then look up and open your eyes to the guiding Light of Christ. Don’t stay stuck in cynicism or dumbstruck with doubt. Don’t get lazy or make excuses to skip church. For this is not a journey to make alone. We need each other. Follow the Magi to the Messiah in the manger. And it’s okay if you just feel like you’re wandering. Just allow yourself to wonder as you wander – and if you do, you will land starstruck in a stable, sitting at the foot of Christ and soaking up God’s love.
Amen.
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