Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Matthew 2:1-12 "Starlit Paths"

You are welcome to use parts of this sermon, but if you do, please attribute them properly! 
         In the film, “Love Actually”, which is one of my holiday favorites, there is a scene where a young girl excitedly announces that her school class would be performing the annual Nativity Play that Christmas – and she would be assuming the role of a lobster. 
         “A lobster?” her mother inquires.  “Was there a lobster in the stable when Jesus was born?”
         The daughter gives her mother a withering look as only a preteen girl can.  “Well, yeah!  Duh!” she replies. 
         There may be a lot of things that we do not know about the birth of Jesus – though I remain unconvinced that the presence of a lobster is one of them.  However, children do seem to have interesting perspectives on the birth stories, which are told only in the Gospels of Matthew and in Luke. 
         It is like some kindergarteners in Great Britain who were asked about the visit of the Magi in the Christmas story.  One young boy declared confidently that the three wise men brought Jesus “some gold stuff, but Legos would have been better”!     
       Ah yes – the magi.  Sometimes we call them kings or Wise Men (Wise Ones if we want to be politically correct). They were the Gentiles from the East who make an appearance only in the Gospel of Matthew.  We presume that there were three of them, but that is only because the Gospel writer lists three gifts – gold, frankincense, myrrh, and no Legos.  Not necessarily the most useful of presents for a family with insufficient funds to even bribe their way into decent accommodations in Bethlehem.  Gold would have been an asset (though the neighbors would wonder where an indigent carpenter and his pregnant fiancé came up with a pot of it).  Frankincense was a reasonable air freshener for the bathroom, but myrrh?
         In our mind’s eye, we either see the Magi strutting off on foot across the desert with their gifts uplifted toward the sky, or we imagine them perched on camels.  However, neither of those scenarios is Biblically-based, and both have assumed a truthfulness only because of the depictions of Renaissance painters and Hallmark greeting card graphic artists. 
        The Gospel writer does tell us that the Magi did not arrive in time for Jesus’ birth in the stable in Bethlehem, so they never rubbed shoulders with the shepherds, never saw an angel or heard a heavenly proclamation, and never felt the reverberations of the glorias that shook the nighttime sky.
         The Magi were from the East – which is the Gospel writer’s way of telling us that they came from a great distance and so from a different culture.  They must have left home, the most familiar of places, and set off on their journey, not knowing how long it would take or just where they would end up since the destination itself was a holy mystery. 
         The Magi were clearly not Jews but were more likely practitioners of some off beat or pagan religion like Zoroastrianism.  Unlike the unwashed, uneducated, rough and tumble shepherds, the Magi must have been quite wealthy to come up with the gifts they did.  They were educated men, ancient scientists or maybe philosophers who understood their spirituality far differently than Mary and Joseph.  The Magi were part of the upper crust of their communities.  They were well-respected men about town.
         We also know that, before they found the baby Jesus, they strolled into Jerusalem – perhaps bent on taking a breather and putting their feet up for a bit or maybe figuring that the capital city would be where the movers and shakers were, like-minded people who might be able to assure them that they were headed in the right direction.  However, it seems that they were terribly naïve when they started openly inquiring about a new king to supplant Herod, the current dictator. 
         Surely they must have surmised that it would not take long for their presence and peculiar questions to reach King Herod, and surely his reputation preceded him.  Surely the Magi must have known how such a petty and paranoid king would react. 
         As one blogger wrote, “King Herod was a smart man. He was shrewd as a snake and brutal beyond belief. Herod knew how the world worked and he used it to his full advantage. History shows that he overcame his enemies the good old-fashioned ways: He either BOUGHT them or he BUTCHERED them. The Jewish religious leadership opposed his kingship – so he built the Jewish leaders a beautiful new temple. The aristocracy of Palestine opposed him, so he simply killed off 45 of the leading noble families.
And when it came to his chief opponent, Aristobulus, Herod invited him to a swimming party in the Jordan River, bribed his bodyguards and had him drowned. And then turned around and threw him a magnificent funeral! Herod was one sharp, one smart, one shrewd cookie.”
         However, the Magi were no dummies either.  They played along with Herod’s little game of wits and then hustled out of Jerusalem – and out of reach - as soon as possible - without attracting unwanted attention. 
         We also know that the Magi eventually found the Christ Child. They followed the glow in the nighttime sky.  They followed the glistening rays that shone more brightly than anything they had ever seen before.  They followed their hopes and dreams and found their heart’s desire.  They followed the star and found the Light of the World. 
         I find it interesting that, in our Christmas pageants – not just here but in most churches – we choose the most precious and youngest child we can find to carry the shining star attached to a pole.  When you really think about it, this child – in all his or her innocence – carries for everyone of us to see the one symbol in this story of Jesus’ birth that has the potential to empower us – you and me - to be all that God envisions us being as sons and daughters of the Almighty.  The most precious and youngest child carries the fate of the world on the top of a pole.
       We dim the sanctuary lights on Christmas Eve as the child walks slowly down the center aisle in darkness, the lighted star swaying slightly on its pole.  And maybe in that darkness, we remember that, as Presbyterian pastor Alan Brehm wrote, “The world into which Jesus was born was full of all kinds of this darkness.  Many lived out their lives as slaves of one kind or another, …dependent for their daily bread on the arbitrary generosity of those who owned the majority of the land.  And the shadow of the Roman Empire was cast over the whole Mediterranean world--a shadow cast by ruthless conquerors that had no conscience about enforcing their will with the edge of a sword and the point of a spear.  For many in Jesus’ day, there was no hope of anything better.”
      And if we do not think about the darkness of first century Palestine as we watch the child pick his or her way down the aisle toward the manger, maybe we think about the darkness of our own world.  Maybe we conjure up images of broken dreams, shattered hopes, failures, shame, and fear – in this New Year of 2017, above all, images of fear. 
       Last week in worship, many of you wrote down your greatest fear for this upcoming year and gently laid those slips of paper in the manger.  By the end of the service, the baby Jesus was nestled in neatly folded or rolled bulletin inserts containing your heartfelt fears and your promises.  The former spanned the spectrum from school exams to health concerns, from caring for elderly parents to recurring cancer, from dementia to Donald Trump, from the possibility of war to the inevitability of climate change, from your lack of energy at a time when energy is so needed to our national inability to communicate effectively with one another.  And the list goes on. 
         However, as Lutheran pastor, David Lose asks us, “ What does fear do to us? Do we install more security systems in our homes and cars? Do we build more gates or buy more guns? Do we save even more for retirement, pulling back from charitable contributions to make sure we have enough? Do we close our hearts – and minds – to those who are different?”
         Or, I would ask:  Do we boldly acknowledge those fears and, in their midst and in spite of them, re-imagine the Magi in our own lives?  Think about it. 
         The Magi did not have a whole lot to go on – just a great expanse of desert and miles of unknown territory that would take them so far from home and so out of their comfort zone.  All they really had was a star, just a queer hunch and nagging feeling that if they followed the path that the star illuminated, that if they trusted the light to take them to where they wanted to go, that if they did not let their fear of the darkness overwhelm them, they would find what they were looking for.
         Do we, like the Magi, need to go beyond the boundaries we set for ourselves and follow the star God has set before us?  Surely that is one big question.  As scholar and teacher John Phillip Newell wrote, “Tragically we have often been given the impression that we have all the light we need, within our nation, within our religious tradition, within our cultural inheritance.  But our Gospel story points to something radically different, that there is Light beyond our inherited boundaries, and that we need this Light, that it is given to complete the Light we have received, not to compete with the Light we have received. We need one another as nations and religions as much as the species of the Earth need one another to be whole.”
         Do we, like the Magi, need to believe that there is a star – a light – something bright and so beautiful that illumines a path forward for us – a path that will take us past our fears and closer to transforming ourselves into all that God wants us to be?  That, of course, is the other big question – and only you can answer it for yourself and for your own life.  Is there a star?  And, if so, where will it lead you – and are you willing to follow it?
       To that, as your pastor, I remind you of the words of the prophet Isaiah:  “Arise! Shine!  For your light has come.” 
       It is imperative, right now, in 2017, that we trust the light and not the darkness: that we trust the power of God and what we can do for other people and not the power of fear and what it might do to us.
      How might that imperative play out for you in this New Year? Where – across unknown territory and out of your comfort zone - might the star – the light – lead you?  Well, let me share in closing ten New Year’s resolutions of Shane Clairborne, a Christian activist.  And I will bet that at least some of them are on your path of light:
1. Do for one person what you wish that you could do for everyone, but can’t.
2. Practice resurrection. Make ugly things beautiful and bring dead things back to life. Look for God in the unlikely places.
3. Interrupt death. Do something regularly to interrupt the patterns of violence, bullying, war, capital punishment and other mean and ugly things.
4. Give more money away than you keep. And do it in a way that takes away the power of money and celebrates the power of love.
5. Write letters and notes to people, letting them know you are thankful for them. Write a note asking for forgiveness from someone you need to ask to forgive you.
6. Do something really nice – that no one sees or knows about.
7. Compliment someone you have a hard time complimenting… and mean it.
8. Pause before every potential crisis and ask: “Will this matter in 5 years?”
9.  Learn a skill – like welding – and use it for something redemptive, like turning a machine gun into a farm tool.
10. Rather than emphasizing the best of yourself - and finding the worst in others –work on the worst in yourself and look for the best in others.
         “Arise!  Shine!  For your light has come.”  Approach this coming year with the sure and steadying knowledge that God has hung out a star for each one of us, and, if we trust that star as the Magi trusted theirs eons ago, it will light the path for us to the Christ Child and, more importantly, light the path to all he stood for even as it moves us toward life in its fullest and joy beyond imagining.
by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond Village Community Church U.C.C., Raymond, Maine


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