Epiphany 2009

In the time of King Herod, wise men from the east observed a star rising that they associated with this light. They followed that star and it led them, through some wrong turnings and some danger, to find the child Jesus, who had been born, as they put it, “King of the Jews.” We don’t know how far they came, or how long it took. We don’t know if they found Jesus still an infant, or if they found him a toddler, running around the house and playing with his father’s tools. All we know is that they followed the light, that the star, which they observed rising in the East, came and got them where they were, and led them to Jesus.
I am pretty much in awe of those magi. The idea of dropping everything and following a star across the desert, to a strange country, into a foreign city and up to the palace is, frankly, nuts. If anyone did such a thing today, they would be considered crazy, and they would probably get a book and a movie deal out of it. But beyond the sheer audacity of the journey, what I find really amazing is that the magi did it all to follow a star. I know that scholars tell us that stars and astronomy held a lot more cache back then, but I still think that leaving home to follow a star is pretty awesome. I mean, I’ve done a bit of traveling. In 1996, Nelson and I spent about 5 months total traveling, including 3 months taking trains around Europe. But we followed a guidebook and had Eurail passes. We were not taking our travel advice from a star.
Well, it seems that the magi weren’t exactly following the star, because they did take some wrong turns. The first place they went was to Jerusalem, which did nothing but stir up trouble. I can’t help but wonder, when I hear this story – did the star lead them to Jerusalem? Matthew doesn’t say so. Instead, it says that the star rose, the magi saw it, and they went to Jerusalem. They weren’t actually following the star at that point, they just knew about it. It’s not until they’re on their way to Bethlehem that the story tells us that the star went ahead of them. It seems like maybe they saw the star, and they decided they knew what it meant. They knew that this star was about the birth of a King, the King of the Jews, and so they headed off to Jerusalem. After all, where else would a King be born?
I wish I could say that I had never made a mistake like the magi’s. I wish I could say that I had never followed my own assumptions and prejudices while ignoring the evidence that was standing in front of me. But that is the way we are, isn’t it? A friend of mine, when confronted with the accusation, “You always think you’re right, don’t you?!” replied, “Of course I do. If I thought I was wrong, I’d change my mind, wouldn’t I?” I know from my travels abroad, and even in the US, that it is easy to take along my ideas about how things should be. Whether I’m bothered because the trains don’t run on my schedule, or because the King hasn’t been born in the capital city, my assumptions about how the world should work take precedence.
I am only too aware of all the ways that we assume we know what God is up to. Throughout history, one group or another has taken it upon themselves to be the spokesperson for God, and it usually ends in disaster. The church of the West spent hundreds of years “taking God” all over the world, never bothering to check to see if God might already be there. But the most successful missionaries have always been the ones who stopped to ask, “what has God been up to here? How has God already been made known in this place?”
The star came first to the Magi, they saw it at its rising. God’s light works its way into every time and place, and invites each person to a journey, into a relationship, in a language that they can understand. Of course, they are bound to misunderstand, they are bound to misinterpret. Each of us is bound to take a wrong turn, believing we know how God should be acting. But the star waited for the Magi, so that they were finally able to find their bumbling way to Bethlehem and to the Christ child. And when they left, they went home by a different road. And so the light waits for us. God was born into the world as an invitation to each of us, as a sign that God wants nothing more than to be in relationship with us. And Christ died and was raised as an invitation to each of us, as a sign that God will not abandon us when we take a wrong turn. God’s light waits for us, Christ waits for us, forgiving our mistakes and giving us the chance to start fresh, so that we can continue on our journey by a different road.
We have a little Nativity scene that we bought the year that we traveled so much. That year we spent Christmas in Budapest, Hungary. It is an unusual Nativity crèche for a number of reasons. For one thing, it is all one piece, made of ceramic. It is made from a plain brownish/grayish clay, with a hint of blue paint in spots to it, but unglazed. And it depicts only the holy family with a sheep and a donkey, no shepherds, no magi or gifts, no angels and no stars. It is plain, humble, unassuming, as I imagine the stable itself would be. That is part of what drew me to this little crèche when I saw it in the Christmas bazaar there. But what I like most about it is that, rather than a little straw manger, holding a perfect little baby, there is a candle-holder, and the manger holds a light. Instead of a star shining overhead, in this scene, the star has come to rest in the manger, and it is to that spot, to the light in the manger, that all eyes are drawn as they look at this little Nativity scene.
“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you…Nations shall come to your light.” The star that led the magi is the same light that leads us. The light comes to us each where we are, so that we can follow it into the world, and find it shining in the most unexpected places.