The Epiphany Sermon (1): Imagining Magi, on Jan 3, 2016

Sermon: Imagining Magi

Text: Matthew 2:1-12

Have you ever wondered who the Magi really were? If you’ve ever watched a Christmas pageant, you’ll remember that the Magi’s visit is one of the highlights of the nativity story. Paintings and reenactments of the Magi’s visit repeat similar images of how the Magi have been imagined in Western Christianity, literature, and arts. The wise men are “three,” when the Gospel of Matthew, the only Gospel which talks about the Magi’s visit, has no mention of how many there actually  were. The notion that there were three comes from the three gifts they bring: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. For a long time, Magi also have been imagined to be Kings from the Orient. That’s why we often call them the Three Kings, as well. Their ethnicities have also been speculated upon: they could have come from Persia, Babylon, Arabia or the Syrian desert. What else? They are all males - I admit that’s the most likely scenario. I don’t know where the following image originated, but they are often portrayed as two old white men and one younger man of darker skin, all with beards of different lengths which represent their different ages. And the star! Almost every year in the weeks before Christmas, stories appear in the media that seek to identify the star with some natural phenomenon. The most common suggestions are a comet, a conjunction of planets, or a supernova. However, one of today’s most respected biblical scholars, John Dominic Crossan, is very clear that any attempt to identify the guiding star with a natural astronomical event is misguided; The star in Matthew’s Gospel does not simply shine in the sky; it moves. It not only leads the wise men westward to Jerusalem, it then turns and moves south to Bethlehem. There, “it stopped over the place where the child was.” This is no comet, or conjunction of planets or supernova. If it was, the star where the light came from would be fixed in its position in the sky, relative to the other stars. Any Christmas pageant based on Matthew’s account is not a report or news article which can be absolutely correlated with historical records; Matthew intends a realistic ‘parable’ and not a factual ‘history’.

The most important intent and task of a parable is to effectively deliver the Good News to a listener’s mind through stories. For a long time, I have wondered why the author of this Gospel, Matthew, chose to put the Magi in this story. To put it differently, why do Magi have to appear in the story of the first Christmas – the birth of the Messiah – when they are not necessary to the story? They have no relation to the family, no relation to the central place of where the story develops  – the hill country of Judea - , to the Hebrew God or to the rest of Jesus’ life or ministry. Are they just a decoration that helps the story sound more exotic and interesting?  

This wondering made me dig deeper into the story of the second scene of Matthew’s pageant. The first scene is the conception of Jesus followed by  Joseph’s dilemma, which is immediately followed by scene number two: the Star, the Wise Men, and Herod. Scene Three: the Adoration of the Magi. Scene Four: the Flight into Egypt to Escape Herod’s Plot. Scene Five: Herod’s Slaughter of the Innocents. Scene six: the Return from Egypt and Move to Nazareth.  

Historically, the Magi represent all of the following: magicians, enchanters, Babylonians, diviners, ... What matters for Matthew is that they are Gentiles. Racially, Gentiles, coming from “the nations.” Functionally, their job is to interpret dreams and unusual or irregular signs in the night sky. They deal with and interpret something bigger than an earthly wisdom.

What about the star? The star which heralds the news of the birth of the Messiah represents the light. Then, what kind of light? Why is the light imagery so important that it comes at the very beginning of the nativity story in Matthew, guiding the Magi and us to the city of Bethlehem? There is a passage from Isaiah, chapter 60, which goes together with the Magi story, on every Epiphany Sunday, the closest Sunday to  Jan 6. (Epiphany means the manifestation of Jesus to the Gentiles as represented by the Magi.) In Isaiah 60, the light symbolizes the glory of God, the radiant presence of God, and God’s promise to Jerusalem. The words are addressed to the city, recently destroyed by the Babylonian conquest in 586 BCE and only partially rebuilt after the Jewish return from exile in Babylon. Jerusalem has only a hint of its past glory as the home of Solomon’s temple and the capital of a kingdom; those are gone. To a Jerusalem stripped of its glory, the prophet Isaiah promises God’s glory, and the imagery is full of light:

“Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For Darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear over you. Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.”

In Isaiah, the light of God, the glory of God, hovers over the destroyed city, Jerusalem, to “begin” the work of restoration. In the Bible, “begins” means a new chapter, a new creation, not simply a continuation. It means a total turn-over of the pre-existing order, an ending of past misery. The Israel of Jesus’ time was in great despair, with a great yearning for the Messiah as the kingdom was trodden under the boots of the Roman Empire and the Empire-anointed King, Herod.

Oceans of ink have been spilled writing commentary on Matthew’s pageant, speculating where the Magi came from, who they were, what started them on their journey. 

So, who are the Magi? I believe that The Magi represent all who are drawn to the light. Jesus’ birth is the coming of light into the darkness, and the darkness seeks to extinguish the light. In addition, it is very important to note that the Magi are those who interpret the dreams and the signs of the night sky. They deal with unusual signs: Irregularity. Variations. Divergences. Diversity, Voices from the margins, Friendships at the margins, which Catherine Keller says in her book, Face of the Deep: A Theology of Becoming: “Behold the chaos of suffering that bursts from the margins. … On ecology, economics, race, gender, sex… They all come flooding in. Difference multiples difference. These Others refuse to stay faceless. Their eyes form galaxies.” I believe the Magi represent all of us who seek a sign of change, a sign of the light that the darkness cannot overcome, and all those who are willing to take a journey to pay homage to Jesus, drawn to the new light, a new hope. Wise women and men come from “the nations.” They tell us to appreciate the meaning of our faith that Jesus is the light of “The nations.” “Jesus is the light of the world.” We call ourselves the ‘body of Christ’. Take a moment to think about what kind of body the living Christ has? The galaxies of dreams!

(As I wear the Magi costume from the last Pageant on Christmas Eve), So I believe I can wear this as I see myself a 'dream' in the galaxies, among yours, and this crown, as I am 'royal' as a child of God as we all are, and hold this gift; I am the gift to Jesus.

Is Jesus’ light shining in the darkness? Yes.

Do the Herods of this world seek to extinguish the light? Yes. 

Does Jesus still shine in the darkness? Yes.  

Do we, everyday Magi, follow the Light? Yes - a thousand times, yes.  

Message shared to celebrate the life of Leslie Lester Anderson, Jan 8, 2016

Message shared to celebrate the life of Leslie Lester Anderson, at United Church in Meadowood, on Jan 8, 2016

Based on John 14:1-6

In today’s Gospel reading, Jesus says, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. … I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.”

When I first opened this chapter and read these words, I was moved. I was reminded of the precious memories Marilyn shared with me about her father, Les, especially about his love for his family members, who he always put before himself; he loved and endlessly treasured his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Les was patient and tender with his little toddlers. He is  remembered for his life-long enthusiasm about spending time with his little followers in the family cottage on the lake. He introduced them all, each one, with kindness and joy, to his personal world, to summer cottage life. Marilyn said to me, “We all gravitated on the lake every summer.”

My faith is that God has added parts of the divine to our humanity. When we truly experience kindness, humbleness, the true devotion of one human heart toward another, the awareness of the goodness within human nature helps us to grow. It helps us to find security and confidence in life, and help others to do the same.

What we hear from the Gospel today is Jesus’ last discourse as he contemplates his departure from this earth. Jesus is aware that the hour has come for him to pass from this world to the realm of the Father. He wants to show to the very end his love for his own beloved ones in this world, describing the mystery and the reality of life, suffering, death, and resurrection. He ascends to his Father so that God becomes the Father of all children of God and all who believe in his name.

The portion of the Gospel we hear today does not tells us the following event; after his words of farewell, Jesus has a meal on the night before he dies, washing his friend’s feet, a loving act of abasement and service. That night, Jesus issues his new commandment: “As I have loved you, so you too must love one another.”

I believe that my Reflection can end here. The story of Jesus’ words and actions have already reminded Les’ family of what we would like to remember about him and his legacy in our lives, especially as father, grandfather, great grandfather. Many will remember him for his dry sense of humor - and miss it. He was a man of few words; when he did speak up his words were often important or funny - or both. We will also remember Les with great respect for the courage and strength he demonstrated as a pilot in wartime as witnessed in his book, “Days of Laughter, Nights of Fear”.

Les led a great life - thanks be to God. Those of us who knew him a little more deeply will remember and treasure in their hearts his humble, egoless, pure humanity: the love that he has freely given for his family as a husband, father, grandfather and great grandfather who was never tired of going to the lake, every summer, to prepare room for family members and guests in his cottage  – his personal world – and to give the core of himself to  those whom he treasured. Now, we pray that God blesses Les as he rests in God’s wondrous world, “In the Father’s house with many dwelling places.” We pray that the face of the Heavens will open for him, that his spirit rises, free, into a sky as blue as a summer lake, resting on high with God and sending his blessing and love to those of us down here.

Amen.