January 8th, Epiphany Sunday

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of each of our hearts be acceptable to you this day, our rock and our redeemer.
A few years ago I heard a joke about the three Wise Men, which most of you may have already heard, but I am going to repeat it again, just in case. What would have happened if it had been three wise women instead of three wise men? They would have arrived on time, brought practical gifts, cleaned the stable, and made a casserole. And, while this is just a joke, there could be a kernel of truth to it, until we look at what actually happened on that day, on the day we now celebrate as the Feast of the Epiphany.
First of all, let’s make sure that we all understand what is meant by the word EPIPHANY. This is one of those words which has been taken over by literature teachers and writers, and has come to mean an awakening, as in a coming-of-age novel, when the protagonist suddenly realizes something or other. But this word has been around for much longer than English literature classes, and has a much more important meaning to us as Christians. It comes from two Greek words – ἐπί (epi, “upon”) + φαίνω (phainō, “I shine, appear”). In literature, the actual definition is: an illuminating realization or discovery, often resulting in a personal feeling of elation, awe, or discovery. Webster’s dictionary phrases it a bit differently, saying that an epiphany is a sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something. While that particular definition makes me long for my own epiphany, the meaning which concerns us today is: a manifestation or appearance of a divine or superhuman being.
And you know, the last two definitions can be tie together when we think about the Magi, and their trek to Bethlehem. You see, when they saw Jesus – who, by the way, was no longer a baby by this time – they had an epiphany. They had a sudden manifestation or perception of the essential meaning of Christmas, when Jesus Christ, the Messiah, was revealed to them. And isn’t it interesting that they weren’t Jews? They were non-Jews, or Gentiles, and yet the baby was revealed to them, and not to Herod, or to any of the Jewish religious leaders. This shows us plainly that Jesus’ message was for all people, and not just the chosen few. This is a fact which we should apply today. It is time for our message to go outside of the church, and, indeed, outside of Christianity itself. Our message is meant for all people, and by keeping it to ourselves, we are being selfish. Epiphany itself celebrates God’s revelation to unexpected people – to magi and shepherds, to outcasts and adversaries, and not to the elite and powerful.
In one of our devotionals this week, Keith and I read about a pastor who, when he first became a Christian, used to hang around outside pubs in Glasgow, singing hymns, and trying to convince the patrons to accept Jesus as their saviour. Needless to say, he was not well-received. He also said that, perhaps, that was not the most sensible way to make his faith known to others. But what IS the way? It is to let our light shine in the nations, in the cities, in the workplace, and in our homes.
We do this by responding to Christmas, by letting ourselves truly experience the joy that God’s gift to us is meant to give us. To do this, we need to let go of the walls we usually build around us, the walls that keep us from God. It is in this way that, like the Wise Men, we can experience an epiphany, and be totally overwhelmed by what has happened, by what God has done for us.
Now, I would like to go through parts of today’s Gospel reading, just to expand on them a little, and show how they apply to us as well as to the Wise Men. We saw his star in the east and have come to worship him. What have you seen which pointed you towards faith in Christ? What are you prepared to do to worship him? For most of us, Sunday worship answers that question, but there is more we can do. We can live the life of a Christian, and, as the hymn says – they will know that we are Christians by our love.
When King Herod heard this, he was disturbed, and all Jerusalem with him. Now, other translations use the word “frightened” rather than disturbed, and, if we look into Herod’s history, we can see that he had good reason to be frightened and disturbed. Herod’s own rise to power had been marked by violence and intrigue, and his own son, Antipater, being eager for the throne, had already tried to poison him. So Herod himself would have been disturbed by the thought of another contender being born. And of course, the people of Jerusalem would also have been concerned, because instability in leadership often lead to war, which was not something anyone wanted. With Herod and all of Jerusalem, we should also be disturbed by the birth of this baby, because he is the one who can change our lives, if we but let him. And that is the key point of this verse – that we must be willing to let him change us. It is no good to fight. I did that for years, but finally, he wore me down, and the result is that I am here, today. What will the result be if you acknowledge your own disturbed heart, and do what it is that God wants you to do?
Herod said to the travelers: Go and make a careful search for the child. As soon as you find him, report to me, so that I too may go and worship him. Of course, we know that Herod had no intention of worshiping the child. We know what his plans were. And we found them out a few verses later, when he ordered all of the boys in and around Bethlehem to be killed, for fear that one of them should be the king for whom the Magi were searching. And, while we say that we would never do something like that, we should ask ourselves if there are times when what we do has another motive other than the perceived one. How often do we do things out of fear or because of self-interest or maybe just because we are hypocrites? And before you answer, examine your motives carefully. We are really good at hiding them, even from ourselves.
When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. This was – for them – the epiphany. When was yours? When did you realize what had happened? Maybe you have had more than one. I think that, for most Christians, life is a series of epiphanies. And they are not necessarily sequential or chronological. Some of us feel our first epiphany at a very young age, while for others it takes longer. But just knowing that there is another epiphany waiting for us makes the search worthwhile. Think about the joy that comes into our lives when we acknowledge who Jesus is, and how he is connected to us.
They bowed down and worshipped him. Again, I went to different translations of this verse, and the one which struck me was: They knelt and worshipped him. Now, as Presbyterians, we are pretty clear on whom we WON’T kneel before. We don’t kneel for crowned heads; we certainly won’t bow down to terrorists; and, being a non-hierarchical church, we definitely don’t kneel for bishops. And this is another way in which we resemble the Wise Men. They didn’t kneel before Herod, who probably expected them to. But when they found the child Jesus, there was no hesitation. And like the Wise Men, we should know which things are not worth our adoration, and which things should drive us to our knees. Now, in this church, we do not have kneelers, as some others do. But sometime today, I challenge you to do this. I challenge you to get down on your knees, open your arms out to your sides, and bow your head. Or if you’re feeling especially brave, try touching your forehead to the floor. If your body can’t do these things, assume whatever posture speaks to you of humility and reverence. And while you are there, think about the child who brought the Magi to their knees. And then think about the child as a man, a man crucified for us. And then think about him as the resurrected Christ, as the one who conquered death to bring us into eternal life.
Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts off gold and of incense and of myrrh. We have already discussed, in a round-about way, how unusual these gifts are. But, considering the context, each one of the gifts is perfect. Gold is a traditional gift for a king, and that is who Jesus is. Incense – which we commonly call frankincense in our retelling of the story – was used in worship, and still is, in some denominations. Therefore, it is a perfect gift for a deity. And, at the time Jesus was born, myrrh was one of the ointments used to anoint bodies to preserve them, thus it was a symbol of death, the death which would save all humanity. There is a church supply website where you can get ornate containers which hold small amounts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The set of three costs just under thirty dollars, and I suppose that groups buy them for Nativity scenes. But if you were to visit it now, you would see the words: Sold out for the 2011 season. No more gold, frankincense or myrrh for you! The Church and the world will both have to wait, possibly as long as until next August. I hope we’re only out of the three gifts in a literal sense. Because we need an ever fresh supply of these three gifts to offer this child as he grows and becomes strong. We need gold to value his identity as a king over our lives. We need frankincense to affirm his identity as the Son of God. We need myrrh to remind ourselves of his identity as a crucified messiah, to prevent our forgetting the forces within ourselves and our world that threaten this precious life in our midst.
If we look again at the last verse of our Gospel reading, we will see another message, one which is even more important for us. And having been warned in a dream not to go back to Herod, they returned to their country by another route. This season of epiphany, as well as being a season of discovery and self-realization, is also about alternative routes. In our case, of course, it is not an alternative route from Bethlehem so as to avoid Herod, but an alternative route to our future. So many of us think that we have our futures planned out, and then something happens to throw a monkey wrench into our plans. Jobs are cut, relationships unexpectedly end, illness interferes. Then we need to find a different route to get to our future. And the most important things is that we know that there is always a different route, and that, with God’s guidance, we will find it. As we begin 2012, there are two questions we must ask. The first is: Who IS in control? If we try to control things ourselves, we are bound to fail. If we let God have control, and if we do as he wants us to, we cannot help but succeed. And the second question is just as important. Where will I place my energy? As for me, I will look to a star, but not to one which will ever be recorded by any astrologers. I follow a star which heralds the birth long ago of God with us and is told again and again in the lives of people who follow Jesus faithfully looking for the coming of a new kingdom, worshipping God, and eating and drinking bread and wine as food for their journey through exile home to God.
Unlike the Magi, we do not have a star which will lead us, but we do have the light which is Jesus Christ. On this feast of Epiphany Sunday, we acknowledge this – perhaps even more than we do on Christmas Day, for it is on this day that he was revealed to the OTHER, to those who were not even expecting him. It is on this day that we acknowledge that, maybe, we need to find a different route. We are all on a faith journey. We must be grateful that, as a faith community, we can travel together into the future, no matter which direction it takes us. As we leave Epiphany behind us, ask yourself where you are on this path. Is there anything you need to let go in order to continue on the journey? Is there anything you need to find, in order to take the next step? I would share with you now, an epiphany blessing, which was recently sent to me, for those who have far to travel. If you could see the journey whole, you might never undertake it; might never dare the first step that propels you from the place you have known toward the place you know not. Call it one of the mercies of the road: that we see it only by stages as it opens before us, as it comes into our keeping step by single step. There is nothing for it but to go and by our going take the vows the pilgrim takes: to be faithful to the next step; to rely on more than the map; to heed the signposts of intuition and dream; to follow the star that only you will recognize; to keep an open eye for the wonders that attend the path; to press on beyond distractions, beyond fatigue, beyond what would tempt you from the way. There are vows that only you will know; the secret promises for your particular path and the new ones you will need to make when the road is revealed by turns you could not have foreseen. Keep them, break them, make them again: each promise becomes part of the path; each choice creates the road that will take you to the place where at last you will kneel to offer the gift most needed— the gift that only you can give— before turning to go home by another way. Through God, we have found that way. Thanks be to God.