Epiphany — Andy James

Containing Christmas

January 4, 2015 By Andy James

a sermon on Matthew 2:1-12
preached on January 4, 2014, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

It feels like Christmas ought to be over by now. Sure, I still have my tree up at home, and our decorations are still up here in the church, but by next Sunday nearly all the visible signs of Christmas will be gone. Of course, that will be a good two weeks after our world has left Christmas behind. The old traditional twelve days of Christmas beginning on Christmas Day have instead become about two months of Christmas beginning as soon as the stores can shift Halloween candy and picked-over costumes into the clearance bins! But whether it be twelve days or two months, the time and seasons of this world can’t contain Christmas.

This uncontainable Christmas was the case from the very beginning. Even the four gospels that carry the stories of Jesus’ life to our own time tell us two somewhat different versions of the Christmas story, with different timetables for the parents’ travel and different visitors coming to pay homage to the newborn Jesus, not to mention different audiences for the news of his conception and birth. It is clear that a single telling of this story cannot capture all that this important event contains for us.

Matthew’s telling of it brings us several people who do everything they can to contain the meaning and message of this transformative event. First, the wise men from the East who have seen a star indicating the birth of the King of the Jews head directly to the capital city, Jerusalem, expecting that they would find a royal child there, never imagining that they might find him anywhere else. Everyone at the palace of King Herod has a similar response when these foreign visitors arrive, never thinking that God might be doing something outside the approved and endorsed channels of the puppet king placed in power by Roman authority. King Herod himself seeks to contain and control the meaning of this birth that might potentially undermine his very tenuous and limited authority by instructing the wise men to report back to him about the whereabouts of the child. Even beyond our story today, in the next few verses of Matthew, we hear the horrible story of how King Herod tried to contain the impact of the birth of Jesus by killing all the male children under age two in Bethlehem once he heard that some thought someone else had been born King of the Jews.

But all who would try to contain even this first Christmas were unsuccessful. The wise men were put back on their way to follow the star all the way to the place where it was guiding them by none other than King Herod. The halls of power in Jerusalem were released from their fear of the sinister King Herod by the wisdom of the chief priests and scribes as they sought the counsel of the prophets. And King Herod was thwarted in his attempts to destroy the child by dreams that sent the wise men home by another road and Jesus and his parents off to the safety of Egypt until they could safely settle back closer to their native land in their new hometown Nazareth. From the beginning, as hard as many might try, amidst so many misunderstandings and threats, the gift of Christmas simply could not be contained.

As this Christmas season comes to an end over the next few days, as we put away the decorations that mark this holiday for us, as we try to move on from the celebrations and holidays of this time of year and back into the normal pace of life, our temptation is to pack up the meaning of this season in those boxes alongside our ornaments and other marks of the season. But the deeper call of Christmas is not done once we pass the celebrations of Epiphany on Tuesday. We are not done with this season just because we have taken down the decorations from the church or our homes. And we must resist the temptation to contain Christmas to a brief season marked mostly by Christian attempts to co-opt pagan winter solstice festivals in late December. Poet Linda Felver puts the consequences of this beautifully, I think:

Let me not wrap, stack, box, bag, tie, tag, bundle, seal, keep Christmas.
Christmas kept is liable to mold.
Let me give Christmas away, unwrapped, by exuberant armfuls.
Let me share, dance, live Christmas unpretentiously, merrily, responsibly,
with overflowing hands, tireless steps and sparkling eyes.
Christmas given away will stay fresh—even until it comes again.

—“Let Me Not Keep Christmas,” from A Book of Christmas

When we try to contain Christmas to this brief season or limit the message that this birth brings to us, we always find that God has other ideas, suggesting that we must do more to live out God’s preference for the poor and oppressed, to stand with those who are hungry or in need, and to find Jesus among us where we would least expect to meet him. Pastor and activist Howard Thurman put this challenge of Christmas best, I think:

When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.

—“The Work of Christmas,” in The Mood of Christmas & Other Celebrations

In his life among us that began that first Christmas, Jesus brings all these challenges into clearer view for us, reminding us that while we are not alone in doing this work, we are never excused from being the hands and feet and voice of Jesus in our world. In his birth amidst controversy and confusion, Jesus reminds us that the fullness of God’s presence is rarely found in the halls of power but far more often among the poor. In the myriad ways that he manages to avoid being contained by the ways of the world, Jesus reminds us that God’s power reaches far beyond our dreams and imagination. And in his message of a new way that begins to take hold at Christmas, he reminds us constantly that we are called to continue bearing this message of new life into the world, looking for openings to join in the transformation of those lost, broken, hungry, imprisoned, ruined, war-torn, and empty places where the light of Christ can shine into our world through people like us.

So when we finally give up on our attempts to contain Christmas, we find that we have no choice but to let the light of Christ shine through us. This light illumines our lives and makes us whole and complete, but when we are tempted to make this light our own and hoard it for ourselves and our own good feelings, we are called to let our light shine. We are called to share God’s glory with all those who come our way and to bear this transformative light into a world where darkness has far too often been allowed to rule the day. The work of Christmas for us beyond these days is to continue to bear this light into the world so that we can join in finding the lost, healing the broken, feeding the hungry, releasing the prisoner, rebuilding the nations, bringing peace among people, and making music in the heart.

So may we go forth from these Christmas days, not boxing it up for another year or containing it within a few days or weeks of this season, but instead bearing the epiphanies that burst forth into our world through the fullness of our lives, always shining the bright light of Christ into the world each and every day until all things are made new in Jesus Christ our Lord. Lord, come quickly! Amen.

Light for the Journey

January 6, 2013 By Andy James

a sermon on Matthew 2:1-12 for Epiphany
preached on January 6, 2013, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

Several years ago, the computer company Microsoft ran an ad campaign that asked a simple question: “Where do you want to go today?” While their way of thinking about computers may drive me crazy, I think Microsoft was on to something in picking up this theme of journeys.

Journeys are everywhere around us, and we take them constantly. Whether our commute is a couple minutes or a full hour, the workers among us make a journey to work every day. We take longer journeys sometimes when we set out on vacation or to visit family or friends who do not live nearby. And when we get down to it, our whole lives are a journey, as one of our most dear departed saints often said, with wonderful and challenging twists and turns and exciting and surprising stops all along the way. And so every day, we ask that question, “Where do you want to go today?”, not because Microsoft insists on answering it for us but because life is a journey that will take us to countless interesting places that will make us different from when we started.

Journeys are a very important part of our faith tradition, too. The Old Testament begins its focus on the great patriarch of Judaism Abraham by recounting his journey to Canaan at God’s command. The Israelites defined themselves as a people by their journey from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the promised land—with a forty-year detour in the wilderness along the way! And both Matthew and Luke include journeys as they tell their different stories of Jesus’ birth.

Our reading today as we celebrate Epiphany tells Matthew’s version of events, recounting the journey of the magi as they made their way to Bethlehem to meet Jesus. It had to have been a pretty memorable journey, although probably not as much like what we think. We don’t know exactly where they came from or even how many of them there were, regardless of the certainty of our opening hymn today (“We Three Kings”) but these magi set out for Palestine knowing nothing more than that they were looking to welcome the newborn King of the Jews. They didn’t meet up with shepherds or angels along the way, but they did find their way to King Herod, who was so deeply troubled at this apparent newborn threat to his carefully-constructed power that he ended up killing all the male infants of Bethlehem. After this strange encounter, when the magi finally found the newborn king, he didn’t look a lot like most kings would, but they nonetheless showed him honor with their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And as these magi prepared to return home, it became clear that their journey had sparked something more in their world, but their journey to meet this newborn king was not complete until they could return home by another road.

With the story of the journey of the magi fresh in our minds, Epiphany is a good time to think about the journeys that shape our lives. It comes very quickly after our American culture celebrates New Year’s, so many of us have already been thinking about what we will do differently in 2013—and if your life is anything like mine, many of those different intentions have already been missed! Epiphany comes after we have spent time preparing for and celebrating God’s incarnation in our midst, and we can hopefully remember the lessons of these days as we consider the journey ahead. And Epiphany is at the perfect time of the year, right when the days start to get longer, right when the light starts to come back into our world, for us to begin to see more clearly the road ahead.

So as another Christmas comes to an end, as another year begins, as another Epiphany gives us light and inspiration for the journey, where will our journey lead us? Will we see a star and follow it as the magi did? Will we embark on a journey that looks a bit different from what we have known before because of what we see going on around us? Will we welcome the opportunity to journey in faith or just focus on making the best of what we have in the here and now?

Whatever our intentions, the journey of Epiphany is not easy. It doesn’t come with a clear road map—the magi can certainly tell us that. We may have a star to guide us along the way, but there are still likely to be unexpected and unwanted twists and turns for us, just as there were for the magi. We may be asked to do unexpected things, to go to unexpected places, to meet people who don’t look like we expect them to look, to stand up to those in power to say that there is something bigger going on here. And sometimes we may even get so confused or distracted or discouraged that we forget why we are on this journey in the first place—but we too have seen something that keeps us wondering, something that insists that we ask questions, something that guides us all along the way.

The same star that guided the magi to Bethlehem still shines in our world today. It may not shine in the night sky guiding us to a house in a small town in Palestine, but it’s still there. The star still shines among those who take God’s invitation to live in justice, mercy, and peace seriously. The star still shines where the divisions of this world are set aside, where racism and sexism and xenophobia and homophobia are not tolerated, where people let go of the ways of the past and embrace new hope for the future. The star still shines where people work to make the lives of others different, where God’s presence is fearlessly offered, where peace is made possible and real. And the star shines where people gather together in trust and in hope that God is still at work in our world.

So if the star is shining, we can follow it—even if we ourselves are part of that light sometimes! We can ignore the other stars that tempt us and distract us and keep focused instead on the light of the world that gives us life. We can walk in the way of the magi, journeying toward something we don’t fully understand, opening ourselves to the possibilities of something new, continuing on our way amidst all the unexpected moments of the journey so that we too can welcome the Christ child, offer our own gifts, and pay him homage before we go on our way home transformed by what we have seen and experienced. And all along the way, we can help make the light of this star bright so that others can see it and join us along the way.

Writer Anna Briggs offers us a wonderful exhortation for this Epiphany that you saw some part of as our prayer of preparation today. Now hear her whole call to this journey of Epiphany:

Once a small star led wise seekers to Bethlehem,
Now bright lights dazzle and lead us astray;
Worldlywise people, seduced by prosperity,
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Seek out the family who circle their precious one,
Body or mind needing care night and day;
See the star shining where costly love’s pouring out;
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Turn to the neighbours who stand by the outcast one,
Labelled, rejected, with nowhere to stay;
See the star lighting the exiled one’s homecoming;
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Watch for the country that welcomes the stranger in,
Fleeing from hunger, from tyranny’s sway;
See the star shine where the door’s ever opening;
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Mark where a nation renounces its weaponry,
Sharing wealth round to provide work and play;
See the star shine where the earth finds new cherishing;
How can we hope to find Jesus today?

Offer your gifts where the seeking ones yearn for them,
Welcome the love which they more than repay;
Healing comes swiftly where human hearts turn again;
Turn to the star and find Jesus today.

May it be so for us. Amen.

Ordinary and Extraordinary

January 8, 2012 By Andy James

a sermon on Matthew 2:1-12 and Mark 1:4-11
preached on January 8, 2012, at the First Presbyterian Church of Whitestone

The magi had seen it all before. They had been on these kinds of journeys to other nations when they had seen other stars that indicated the birth of new rulers, so they knew something of what to expect. When they got to Jerusalem, though, things started to look a little different. Even though they had seen the star of the birth of the king of the Jews, the current king could tell them nothing. He had not had a new son recently, and the people around him became very worried when these wise men suggested that there might be some unknown heir to his throne.

But eventually, some of the court advisors sent them on their way to Bethlehem, where some ancient texts suggested a king might be born. There was no palace to be their guiding landmark in this small town, but the star that had begun their journey continued to guide them to the home of a newborn boy in Bethlehem. When they arrived, their familiar routine kicked right in. They kneeled down before the child to pay him homage and offered him their royal gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. It was all very ordinary, but something about it was truly extraordinary – somehow these magi from another land knew that this little child whose birth had been missed by almost everyone would be far more important than anyone could ever imagine.

John the Baptist had seen it all before, too. People had been lining up to listen to his call to repentance for quite some time. Throughout his ministry in the wilderness, people were wondering and asking if he was the one that people had been waiting for, and repeatedly he responded that someone else was coming with greater power to do even greater things. John’s days were surely quite repetitive, with crowds gathering by the Jordan River, ready to listen to his message and be baptized in repentance for their sins.

But one day amidst the crowds, Jesus from Nazareth of Galilee made his way into the water to be baptized. John baptized him like everyone else, but then something strange happened. The heavens were torn apart, and the Spirit descended like a dove onto Jesus. Then, a voice followed: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” In the midst of an ordinary day, something extraordinary happened – a faithful, penitent man who had traveled many miles to hear and respond to John’s proclamation received a word far beyond his wildest dreams as he moved into the next phase of his life.

We’ve seen it all before, too. We know about the strange men who came from far away to visit Jesus when he was young, and we know that Jesus began his public ministry in an encounter with John the Baptist. We’re probably more used to the other story of Jesus’ birth in a manger and the visit of the shepherds, and we’re probably more comfortable with other manifestations of divine power that came later in his ministry. So all too often, we set these stories aside, assuming that there is little for us to learn here or that we already have everything we will need from them.

We’re people who have seen it all before. Someone in our culture gets a great idea – then everyone else copies it and exploits it so that we’re all sick and tired of it. Think about American Idol or Survivor or most any successful television show of the past few years! “We’ve seen it all before,” we mutter. The life of faith seems to be on endless repeat, with little need to engage things in a new and different way and no time and space to connect to the community that shapes and remakes us. “I already know everything I need to know – there’s nothing new still out there,” we say. “I can do the rest on my own.” The world seems to be on endless repeat, with nothing new coming into being and nothing true worth exploring. How many times do we drive past the same places day after day, never noticing the new things around us? How often do we see only the people we have always seen before when we look around our neighborhood? How long will it take for us to notice that things are different, that the world is not what it once was?

The Epiphany and the Baptism of Jesus that we celebrate today remind us that we must be open to seeing things anew. We cannot simply expect to make it today with only what we have seen and experienced before. We need the wisdom of this time and this moment to flourish, the vision of a new time and place to help us see the fullness of things here and now. Amazingly, these stories tell us that we don’t really have to look that hard to find what is new. The new things here lie not in the revolutionary moments but in the ordinary ones. The extraordinary is seen here in the ordinary.

In our life together in this congregation, there is much new that lies ahead for us in the coming year. We are finally putting the uncertainty of litigation behind us, and in the coming months we will complete the sale of the manse, the purchase of an apartment, and the construction of an office here at the church. But even this is not everything that lies ahead for us. These short-term changes are only a glimpse of the bigger things that can shift in our life together in the coming years. As our world and our city and our neighborhood changes, we must keep our eyes open to discover and participate in the bigger vision that God is opening before us in these days. We can start to glimpse a new and different way of life together that embraces the best of who we are and remains sustainable for the resources we have in these days. And we can hone our eyes and ears and all our senses to watch for the ordinary to suddenly become extraordinary – not by anything that we do but by the wonder and power of God at work in our midst.

This way of life is not easy. We don’t naturally see the extraordinary in the ordinary of our world, but today even as we worship we have a chance to practice this way of seeing and being. Today we remember how the common, ordinary waters of baptism touch our heads and become the sign and seal of God’s presence in our midst. And today we gather at this table where a small portion of bread and grape juice mysteriously become the full presence of God in our lives and our world. As we share these incredible moments of God’s presence in our midst, we can practice seeing things differently even as we trust that God can do incredible things and be truly present in the midst of the most routine, mundane things of our lives.

So even when we’ve seen it all before, may the ordinary become extraordinary for us, in our daily lives but especially in this place, for in those moments we might just see God in our midst and have a chance to follow where God is leading us and all the world as all things are made new. Amen.