Following Strangers to the Light

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany. In the Eastern stream of Christianity, Epiphany is the day for remembering the baptism of the Lord. For us in the Western stream, Epiphany commemorates God’s appearance to the Gentiles, in the form of wise men from the East. Epiphany is Greek for appearance or manifestation.

Imagine that! There is yet a corner of Christendom that has not been converted by Santa and his elves! It’s comforting to think that at least one branch of the church still takes its cue from these strange visitors from the East with their weather-beaten faces and exotic gifts for the child born king of the Jews.

The Magi’s arrival marks the end of the twelve days of Christmas, but most of us have been finished with Christmas for a good while now. The lights are down from our houses and the wreaths are put away. The wise men of today’s Gospel reading have already been wrapped in tissue paper and stored with the other figures of the crèche. To get them out now would require climbing back into the attic on that rickety step ladder. It is really worth the trouble?

Well, Matthew thinks it is. For him these wise men, though exotic and decidedly inconvenient, are nevertheless essential for understanding the nature of the gospel and the mission of the church. If you miss the Magi, you might miss the gospel.

And miss them we might. Their home, after all, is modern day Iran. It’s very doubtful they can get visas. And even if they do, they will certainly be stopped by airport security. Their treasure chests of gold, frankincense, and myrrh will never make it through the x-ray machines. And if, by some miracle, they do arrive this morning, I doubt that they would receive much of a welcome. Even if it’s true they don’t have nuclear weapons, Iranians are not exactly first on America’s list of favorite foreigners.

Why does Matthew think these visitors are so important? Because they mark the fulfillment of God’s promises.

One day God will restore the fortunes of Israel, said the prophets, and then the wealth of nations will flow into the holy city of Jerusalem. Ambassadors from all the nations will arrive with herds of camels as tribute. Kings will send gifts of gold and frankincense. The whole earth will be covered in darkness – except for the people upon whom God’s glory shines. Israel will be that people, the light to the nations, the light that reflects God’s glory. All the world will bask in that reflected glory. So dreamed the prophets.

When the Magi stumble into Herod’s court in search of the "child who has been born king of the Jews," even Herod is required to acknowledge their divine mission. He summons the chief priests and the scribes, the very people who will become the opponents of the adult Jesus, and sends them scurrying to the library to consult the ancient texts. Where do the scriptures say the Messiah is to be born? "In Bethlehem of Judea," they report, thus fulfilling Herod’s worst nightmares and God’s best promises.

But Matthew insists we take note of this: It takes a delegation of strangers – Gentiles! Foreigners! – to recall this ancient dream. These wise men are not merely astrologers, according to Matthew. They are theologians, come to teach Herod and all of us all a lesson about the God revealed in this child of Bethlehem.

This child is more than the king of the Jews. He is a light to all the nations. He is God’s manifestation, God’s epiphany. How he will be all of that will be spun out in the telling of the rest of Matthew’s story, but today it is essential that we hear at least this much of what Matthew is saying: This child the wise men seek has been born for the sake of the whole world, not just for a portion of it. He is titled "king of the Jews," but the very fact that Gentiles seek him in order to pay him homage hints that his realm is wider and more inclusive than Herod imagines – than the Magi imagine – than even Matthew’s church imagines.

As history, the story of the Magi does not take us very far. As theology, it takes us to the heart of our confession. It prompts us to look again at this child of Bethlehem and to ask ourselves, how best do we honor a king who was first worshipped not by priests and scribes, but by strangers and sojourners? How do we worship the one we call the Christ if, in order to pay him homage, we must first get in line behind dark-skinned strangers whose names we can’t pronounce?

Leo Sandon, whose opinion I value, has written that two issues should be at the top of our list of priorities in this new year: environmental stewardship and nurturing peaceful, respectful bonds between Muslims and Christians. Surely Leo is right on both counts.

In order to take better care of God’s creation, you and I must change our personal and our institutional lifestyles. The world cannot wait for every political leader to see the light regarding global climate change. Ordinary people – including ordinary Christians – will have to lead the way.

This congregation has made a start. We still have a long way to go, of course. Thank God, we have prophets like Pam McVety who will help us stay on track.

As for that other priority – nurturing relationships between Muslims and Christians – that’s going to be a challenge for most of us.

Tallahassee is not yet as diverse as some other capital cities. Edinburgh, Scotland, the city so vital to the Protestant Reformation back in the 16^th century, now boasts eight mosques. One is not far from Andra’s childhood home and is housed in what used to be a Christian sanctuary. Arabic script now appears on what was once the parish bulletin board and loudspeakers in what used to be the bell tower now summon the faithful to worship.

Tallahassee is not "there" yet. Only one Imam comes to the monthly meeting of Tallahassee Interfaith clergy, which Rabbi Jack Romberg and I chair. On the other hand, hardly a day goes by when I don’t see at least one woman wearing Islamic dress on the streets of Tallahassee.

Muslims and Christians together make up over half the population of the planet, they pointed out. "Without peace and justice between these two religious communities, there can be no meaningful peace in the world. . . The basis for this peace and understanding already exists. It is part of the very foundational principles of both faiths: love of the One God, and love of the neighbour. . ."

The statement goes on to quote the Quran and both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible, showing, I must say, considerable facility with the texts of Christianity. I’ve read ordination exams that could have benefited from the scholarship evident in this letter.

Christian leaders all over the world, including faculty members from Columbia Seminary, responded enthusiastically. Even Pope Benedict, who has some serious bridge building to do with Muslims, says he welcomes the conversation.

Praise the Lord! So much Christian talk of late has been about the "war on terror," as a cosmic battle between good and evil. We’ve heard a lot from Christians about holy war. We haven’t heard much from Christians about loving God and neighbor. In our eagerness to support the troops and rally round the flag, we seem to have lost sight of Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our own faith.

Surprising, isn’t it, that it should take Muslims quoting the Bible to point Christians toward Jesus? Surprising to you and me, perhaps, but not to Matthew. According to Matthew, God has been doing this kind of thing from the very beginning of the gospel – ever sense a delegation of exotic strangers showed up in Herod’s court asking dangerous questions.

It would be easy to skip Epiphany. It brings with it all sorts of hard questions and difficult challenges. Much easier to keep the wise men boxed in their tissue paper and stored safely in the attic. But we can’t skip Epiphany -- not if we’re going to worship with true joy the child who manifests God’s glory.

This child of Bethlehem is a light to all the nations, or he is no light at all. He is God’s love for all the world, or he is no Savior at all. He is God’s epiphany to those unlike us, or else he is an idol unworthy of true worship.

Where is the child born to be king? If we want to find him, we must follow the strangers, for in times like these, it might be the strangers who are following the light.

O Jesus, while the star of grace
Impels us on to seek Your face.
Let not our slothful hearts refuse
The guidance of your light to use.

                                                        Charles Coffin (Hymn No. 68, verse 3)