January 2, 2011 - Christmas 2, Year A (RCL)
On Christmas Eve in our pageant, a star led the shepherds to the manger.
But the star story
doesn't end at Christmas, doesn't end
with the shepherds in their fields and baby in the manger.
The star story continues
on, out into the desert, far from the animals sharing their stable
and the village Bethlehem,
out to the east
where a bunch of magi, searchers for wisdom
are looking up at the night sky.
And see a star.
A star like no other, a star which should not have been there,
a star which as they looked
called deep inside them
to follow.
But what does it mean
to follow the star?
Lancelot Andrewes, an Anglican bishop who preached back in the 17th century
said there were in fact three stars,
or at least, three manifestations of the one star,
the star in the sky, which shone overhead to lead their way, “the day-star in their hearts, and Christ Himself, ‘the bright morning star,’ whom both the other guide us to.”
The first star, the star in the sky, as far as we can tell, looked perfectly ordinary. Some people have suggested it was a comet ― that would explain
its sudden
appearance, and subsequent disappearance,
but we will never know.
What is more important, what is more extraordinary
is that it was a star
which could be seen
by everyone
and anyone.
Whether they were shepherds, camped out on a cold hillside,
or magi, searchers for wisdom, anyone
could see it.
We have great illusions
about the magi, we imagine them, following the legends,
as great kings, people worthy of respect and honor.
Wealthy, they probably were, but with no great honor attached to them.
All we know about them
from other writings of those times, is that they studied the stars.
Astrologers, we might call them today,
writing fortunes in the local newspaper,
charlatans, quacks, except to those who believe what they say.
In a good year, in favor with the ruler, they could live in palaces, surrounded by luxury; in a bad year, in a tent, surrounded by dirt and sand.
The Hebrew scriptures warned against them, labeled them dangerous;
they were outsiders, pariahs, enemies of faith.
And yet, deep within them
was a desire for truth, a desire for wisdom, a desire for something
beyond what their eyes and ears could tell them. A desire so deep
that when they saw that star appear
that first Christmas time
they gathered themselves together,
taking their treasures for safekeeping,
and followed the star
to Bethlehem.
T. S. Eliot, in his famous poem, tells it like this:
“‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.’
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.”
They followed the star, not knowing where
it would lead them;
they followed the star, and it led them
to Christ.
At Epiphany, it is not only the three magi, the wise men, whom we celebrate, but the star. Because it was the star that led the way to Christ
for the outsiders, the people
who had no other way
of knowing him.
And we are their descendants. Because few, if any, of us were born part of the Jewish race. Jewish tradition, Jewish scripture, had predicted a savior, a messiah, a Christ, but this was news for the people of Israel, the people of God, alone.
This new star
signaled a new beginning, a new openness, a savior, Messiah, Christ
for all people, insiders and outsiders alike.
And this star called forth in them all
the second star, the star in their hearts, the star
of faith.
We see that star
in the magi, the wise men, as they head off on a journey, not knowing
where they are going.
They call by th capital, expecting to find there
an explanation for what they have see,
but end up
in a small village,
kneeling in front
of a small baby
and his mother,
opening their treasure chests
and offering their gifts.
They are gifts of wealth
but they are also
gifts from the heart, gifts of faith.
Earlier, I only read you part of Eliot's poem. Listen again.
“All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down,
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.”
They followed the star, and it led them where they least expected.
They followed the star,
and they would never
be the same.
Because they were no longer outsiders, charlatans, seekers after wisdom.
They had found the truth, the one who embodies it;
they had become insiders, adopted into God's family;
they had found Christ, and in following him
their lives had changed.
We like to think
that as Christians
we are somehow “normal.”
We live in a society
that is nominally Christian,
we live in a country
which was founded on religious values.
But more and more, as we seek to follow Christ, as we seek to live out our faith
we will find ourselves
coming into conflict with our society.
When we insist
on claiming Christmas as a Christian festival,
not just a generic holiday,
or when we hold our elected representatives accountable for spending our money in ways which promote justice,
when we refuse to get into
office gossip,
or when we give to the church in thanksgiving for God's many gifts to us
rather than buying a new car or buying up big at the sales,
we walk a different way.
We walk the way of Christ.
And that can be difficult, as no doubt
the magi discovered.
Because when they followed the star
it led them a new way,
and they returned home
changed.
Because in fact, it was not just the star in the sky
which they had been following,
nor the star in their hearts, but as they discovered when they found him,
it was Christ, the morning star, the light of the world.
After a night of darkness, the morning star appears as a sign that the sun will rise, that light will come. It is a sign of promise, a sign of hope.
The magi knelt before that star
and knew that nothing
would ever be the same again.
And as Eliot imagines it,
they would do it all again.
Christ says, “Come, follow me. Follow the star. And I will lead you
places
that you can not imagine, I will lead you ways
you never expect to tread,
but come,
because I will be with you, to the end of the age. Follow the star. Come.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2010