While we were in Oregon this past week visiting Kristin’s family, we went to our favorite Japanese restaurant, Shoji’s. It’s one of those places where they cook the food on a grill right in front of you, with the flashy knifework and spinning spatulas and the like. The whole family was there: Grandma & Grandpa Mooneyham, Kristin and me, her siblings and their spouses, and the three grandkids: Faith, who is nine, Quinn, two and our Ainsley.
One of the flashiest moments at Shoji’s comes when the cook lights the grill on fire. There are four cooking stations in the restaurant, and when we arrived at our seats, one of the other stations lit up in flames across the room. Both Ainsley and Quinn noticed the flash of light right away; it’s hard not to notice when flames shoot up two or three feet in one big roar. But when our personal cook lit his own tower of flames, there were two very different reactions: Quinn was startled by the light and heat, screamed at the top of his lungs and lunged for his mother’s arms, while Ainsley just sat and watched, open-mouthed, as the cook continued his show. Eventually, Quinn realized he was safe and he enjoyed watching the show as well, and both kids wound up applauding as the cook sliced, stirred, fried and served a delicious meal.
Today we celebrate the Epiphany of our Lord Jesus Christ. “Epiphany” in Greek means “manifestation,” or, literally, “shining through.” We celebrate the Star of Bethlehem, which guided the Magi to the place where they found Jesus, but we really celebrate Jesus Himself as the Light of the World. As the gospel of John says, “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”[1] Jesus Himself says later in that same gospel, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”[2] Now, light is welcome at times, but not welcome at others, and in the case of our dinner at Shoji’s, the light that came near to us was both welcome and unwelcome to different people at our table. When the light was far away, distant and flashy, no one was bothered by its presence. But when the light came close enough to us that we could feel the heat and see just how powerful that light really could be, one of the kids reacted in fear, the other in faith. It doesn’t matter which child did what – it could have easily been our Ainsley who reacted in fear, and it probably will be at some point in the future. But when that particular light came into our world, some of us were found in fear, others in faith, and this is exactly what was happening when Jesus, the Light of the World, was born in Bethlehem of Judea, heralded by angels, adored by shepherds, sought by magi in faith and kings in fear. The birth of Jesus revealed Herod’s fear and the faith of the Magi: what does the presence of Jesus, the light of the world, reveal in us today? What happens when Jesus comes close enough to us that we can feel the heat of His presence and sense the power and majesty that His light brings into our lives? That’s the essential question of Epiphany: shall we be found in fear, or in faith?
We inaugurate the season of Epiphany with the story of the Magi. It is one of the most widely known stories about the birth of Jesus – so much so that we often take what we know of this story for granted. For instance, how many magi were seeking Jesus? [The Bible gives no specific number of magi: we say there were three because they bore three gifts: gold, frankincense and myrrh.] Where did the magi find Jesus, and when? [We don’t know where or when they found Jesus. In the gospel of Matthew we only know that the magi found Jesus at a house in Bethlehem, at least eight days after His birth, because male Jewish children were given their names on the eighth day of their life, the day they were circumcised.] We often hear this story as if the three magi wandered into the stable right behind the shepherds the night Jesus was born – but that’s not what the gospel of Matthew tells us. This story is more than the sweet scene we remember from our childhood Christmas programs, and we rob it of its power if we take it too much for granted.
The magi were more than just wandering wise men. They were Gentiles, from lands so far to the east of Judea that it would have taken them months to travel to Bethlehem. They weren’t kings: as one writer puts it, they were “the epitome of Gentile idolatry and religious hocus-pocus – dabblers in chicken gizzards, forever trotting off here or there in search of some key to the future.”[3] The word “magi” is the root of our modern words “magic” and “magician.” They weren’t necessarily holy men or even spiritual seekers – they might have been nothing more than fortune-tellers, horoscope readers who saw something odd in the stars and decided to come investigate. As one writer puts it:
The Magi should not be there. They are heretics. They don’t worship the right God. They are the wrong race, the wrong denomination, the wrong religion. They don’t know how to worship [rightly]. Certainly they give the child gifts – gold, frankincense and myrrh, but those are elements used in their magic. The Magi should not be there. They would have been much better models of unbelief and false trust than models of faith, trust and worship.[4]
In contrast, King Herod was, at least outwardly, one of God’s people. King Herod had ruled over Judea for nearly 40 years when Jesus was born. King Herod and his family were best known for the brutal means they used to grasp and maintain power, however, and this is perhaps where the story of the coming of the magi receives its power and importance in the story of Jesus’ life. The magi were pagan fortune-tellers; Herod was an established insider with a relationship to the story of the Messiah. Yet the pagans were called by God to worship, while the pious-appearing church insider reacted to the birth of the Messiah in fear and paranoia. The light had come into the world, and had found people in fear and in faith – but fear and faith weren’t necessarily found where one might have expected them to be found.
But even those who came seeking Jesus in faith didn’t know exactly what they were seeking. Led by a star out of the East to the land of Judea, those in search of the King of the Jews came to, well, the king of the Jews to find out what was happening in his country. The magi assumed that the flash and power of King Herod’s court and temple would show them the source of this wondrous story. But King Herod’s empire, with all its flash and power, was not the source of what the magi sought, and even King Herod’s scribes and the chief priests of the Temple were compelled to admit that Bethlehem, little tiny Bethlehem, was prophesied as the birthplace of the Messiah. Appearances were not important when the time came for the Light of the World to be born – what mattered was the fulfillment of what God had spoken in generations past, no matter how improbable or unlikely those promises may have sounded.
Where does this leave us today? How do we react to the Epiphany in our own lives, the manifestation of God’s presence in the world around us? Where have our false assumptions led us astray, and when do they lead us into danger? First, the story of the Magi tells us that we do not worship flash and power and strength, but a person: we worship God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and not the edifications we have built ourselves. The magi came to King Herod because they thought that the king they sought must live in a palace: how often do we assume that the church’s power comes from its buildings, its worship services, its pastors? The church’s power is found, like the magi and King Herod alike, in its relationship to the child born in Bethlehem. When we seek that child in faith and worship, we seek Him rightly: when we seek that child in fear and paranoia, we seek our own agenda and risk losing all that Jesus has to offer.
Second, the story of the Magi reminds us that not all is as it seems. We dare not believe that only those within the church are righteous and those who are not are beyond God’s favor. The Magi were the outsiders, the pagans, and King Herod was the insider, the seemingly pious person of faith, yet it was the Magi who sought Jesus rightly. Those of us who have lived within the church all our lives must remember that it is God’s work to determine who is righteous and who is not, and when someone who seems to be an outsider comes seeking the one born King of the Jews, we react wrongly if we assume that “they” don’t belong here.
Finally, the story of the Magi and the season of Epiphany remind us that God is always at work in creation, doing new things where we least expect it. Our calling as God’s people is to react to those new things with faith, not fear. Today is a good example of how God is at work among us. For Kristin, Ainsley and I, a new journey awaits us as we say goodbye to you and move to our new home in Iowa. For you, a time of discernment awaits you, a time to think about what it means to be Peace Lutheran Church in Barrett and what kind of pastor might be the best one to serve you in the years to come. It would be very easy for all of us to approach the coming months with fear. For my family, a new home in a new city, with only one income and a second child on the way: it’s a lot to think about as we prepare to make this move. For you, a time without a full-time pastor, when some tough questions about your future as a congregation must be asked: it’s not always easy to look so unflinchingly in the mirror and see where things have been good and where things could be better. But God likes to do new things in ways that seem unlikely to us. Jesus the Christ, God’s only Son, was born out of wedlock in a stable, in the town of Bethlehem, constantly overshadowed by the splendor of King Herod’s court and temple in Jerusalem. The God who did a new thing in such humble beginnings will be with us all as we encounter new things in the world where we live today.
The question is, how shall we receive God’s presence among us? Shall we be frightened by the presence of the Light? Will its power and heat and unpredictability frighten us into turning away, as my nephew turned away from the light in that restaurant? Or shall we believe in the promises of the One who brings the light? Shall we hope that these uncertain times will, in the end, be a blessing to us? Shall we trust that God’s presence can be made manifest among us in ways that we can’t predict? Shall we believe that the One who called pagan fortune-tellers to Bethlehem is leading us on a journey of faith as well?
Friends, God is good and faithful in ways that we can never completely understand, and I encourage you to be found in faith, as the magi were found. Where God is calling you to behold a new thing, kneel and behold it in wonder. When God brings you new friends, companions for your own journey of faith who may not look like anything you expected, give thanks. When God calls you to worship His Son, not His Church, rejoice and sing praises. In all things, brothers and sisters, be found in faith, not in fear, for God is with you, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, and in God’s holy embrace we have nothing to fear. May the power of God the Creator, the overwhelming love of God the Son and the sustaining peace and strength of God the Holy Spirit keep you all, now and forever. Amen.
[1] John 1.5
[2] John 8.12
[3] http://www.crossmarks.com/brian/matt2x1.htm - reference unknown according to Brian Stoffregen.
[4] Ibid.
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