Luke 2:22-40, Isaiah 60
On this morning, we finish the Christmas story by celebrating the Epiphany. The word Epiphany means “an appearance or manifestation” and on this holy day, people around the world celebrate that God came down to earth, took on our human form, and lived among us. In particular, we celebrate those to whom this good news of great joy was first revealed… the shepherds at Christmas, Anna and Simeon in the temple, and the wise men who journeyed from afar to pay homage to the Christ Child.
As Matthew tells the story, these magi followed a star in the sky – a light in the midst of the darkness – in order to find this Messiah. And that glimmer of light and hope reminded Matthew of another time of darkness and the promise of God that Isaiah shared with the Israelites.
No longer shall the sun be your light by day, Nor the brightness of the moon shine upon you at night; The LORD shall be your light forever, your God shall be your glory (Is 60:19).
In Matthew’s eyes, it wasn’t a star in the sky at all, but the light of Christ himself, revealed to all the world, that pulled those magi over mountains and deserts and seas to the countryside surrounding Jerusalem. He may have been a tiny infant in his mother’s arms, but in the words of John’s gospel – the light shone in the darkness and the darkness could not overcome it.
Too often, we quickly pass over the darkness in these stories. We want to stay with the light and focus on the beautiful image of wise and powerful men bowed down before a humble and poor baby. But I think that we can only appreciate how powerful the light of Christ is, if we remember just how strong the darkness was that surrounded him.
You see, in between the appearance of the light in the sky and their encounter with the Christ-child, the wise men found themselves on the doorsteps of power, and in the words of Father John Foley, they “walked with transluscent innocence straight into the jaws of the power-hungry, luxury-loving King Herod.” Now, “king” is actually a fairly loose term to use here, because Herod was actually more of an appointed ruler – a puppet of the Roman Empire who had turned his back against his fellow Jews. Through political maneuvering and not a little bit of money, scheming and treachery, he had gotten to the top of the pile – or at least as high as he could climb – and now happily sat in Jerusalem as the “king of the mountain.”
Kate Huey paints the picture for us. “Herod was a brutal and fearful man, insecure because he was just a puppet of the hated Roman Empire, not a real king. Can you imagine how thrilled this pretend king was on that day when a little band of “wise men” from the East showed up at his palace and asked for directions to the real King of the Jews?”
In desperation, Herod turns to his advisors – the chief priests and the religious establishment – for guidance and they find within the scriptures a prophecy that the Messiah would come from Bethlehem… the birthplace of none other than King David himself. What was once only a prophecy written on an ancient scroll suddenly became very real for Herod. In his mind, there could be no other king but himself and his heirs…
Huey’s description of this scene continues: “Herod survives, even thrives, on brutality and fear. Now he turns to secrecy and deception, too, calling the strangers in behind closed doors and pretending to be on the same page with them. He tells them what they need to know, and then makes a request. ‘Go and search diligently for the child,’ he says, ‘and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’” Everything that came out of his mouth and the crooked smile on his face sounded right, but we know what kind of terrible things Herod was not only capable of, but actually carried out.
I can imagine that days, weeks even, might have gone by with Herod anxiously awaiting the information about who this baby was. Not so he could seek out the child and give up his power, but so that he could end the threat against his throne once and for all. But no word came and the strangers from the East never showed up, and so Herod, driven to the brink with his fear and insecurity sent troops to the quiet town of Bethlehem and killed all of the males who were under two years of age. Herod was taking no chances.
But even the darkness of Herod’s heart could not put out the light of Christ that had entered the world. Those magi left the palace grateful for the information regarding Bethlehem, a mere nine miles away, and would have unwittingly led Mary and Joseph and Jesus straight into a trap. But God intervened and warned the travelers not to return to Herod, but to go home by another way.
Then, the same angel that led the magi to return home by another route warned Joseph of the impending threat and they quickly made haste to escape – not only from Bethlehem, or even Judea, but out of the country entirely, into the land of Egypt.
This poor family, who were not even able to bring a lamb for the presentation of their son at the temple, somehow found a way to get out of the country… perhaps only because of the costly gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh that the magi had left with them. They escaped from the reign of terror that Herod afflicted on the countryside and lived in exile in the land of Egypt until Herod’s death many years later.
The Christmas season is a time of joy and hope and peace, and I truly pray that each and every one of you were able to glimpse that spirit of Christmas in these last few weeks. But just as the Christmas decorations begin to be put away, the cold harsh reality of the world hits us. We find ourselves right back where we were before this season of consumer frenzy, perhaps with emptier pockets and fuller bellies, but back in reality nonetheless.
And perhaps we are left wondering what all of it was really for. Are we just rehearsing the Spirit of Christmas, much like we get out the decorations and put them away again when the time has passed? Is our hope in the pomp and circumstance, the beautifully wrapped presents and the music of the season, or is it in something else? Something that will sustain us long after the wreaths have come off the door?
I want to share with you a poem by Gerhard Frost, a poem that is his response to that great question of hope:
If I am asked
what are my grounds for hope,
this is my answer:
Light is lord over darkness,
truth is lord over falsehood,
life is lord over death.Of all the facts I daily live with,
there’s none more comforting
than this: If I have two rooms,
one dark, the other light,
and I open the door between them,
the dark room becomes lighter
without the light one
becoming darker. I know
this no headline,
but it’s a marvelous footnote;
and God comforts me in that.
The tale of Epiphany is not a naïve and happy story of Kings and babies, but a powerful message about light and darkness. God chose to enter the world, to reveal himself to us in the form of a vulnerable child in dangerous times. The light of Christ, the truth of God shone forth all the way to the steps of power in Jerusalem, and even Herod – in his heart of hearts – couldn’t deny that this child was destined to become the King of the Jews.
But what Herod did was he shut the door to the light of God and the word of the prophets and revolted against them… choosing instead a path of death and destruction.
The wisemen in our story today sometime seem like fools – walking right up to the reigning King and asking where his successor was. But perhaps they were wiser than we can even imagine. Because even in the gifts that they placed at the feet of the Christ… gold, which was a gift for a powerful king; frankincense, the symbol of a holy priest; and myrrh, an oil for the embalming of the dead – carry within them that reality of light and darkness, truth and falsehood, life and death. They understood better than anyone else at the time, that this child who was born would become the Lord of all, would intercede and make a sacrifice on our behalf like the priest in the temple, but that last gift of myrrh demonstrates that they knew how difficult the journey would be.
But the God who came down and lived among us is stronger than darkness, more powerful than any falsehood, and can overcome even the reality of death. And what is amazing about Christ and his love for us is that his strength comes not from conquering those forces, but by going to them – by facing them – by entering into our darkness, and our pain and our suffering, and even our death – by walking through them with us and leading us through to the other side. Jesus Christ, revealed to us on this day, is the way, and the truth, and the life. Glory to God! Amen.
Special thanks to Fr. John Foley, S. J. and Rev. Kate Huey and Daniel Deffenbaugh for their online thoughts and challenges to look with different eyes at the Epiphany story.
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