Since its Tuesday and I haven't done a sermon in far too long here goes. If I were preaching this I would let it sit a few days and edit it. Since it will only be preached here I am posting it as is.
Matthew 2:1-12 (NRSV)
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, ‘Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.’ When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, ‘In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
“And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
who is to shepherd my people Israel.” ’
Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, ‘Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.’ When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
What is there to say about Epiphany? We all know the story. We probably all have a little creche at home with three wise men; old bearded fellows in fine robes each holding a little box. I could remind you that Christmas has 12 days, from Christmas day through today, the feast of the epiphany. (I hope you all still have your Christmas trees up!) I could tell you that those wise men didn't actually come to the stable but (as Matthew notes) to a
house where Mary and Joseph were living with the
toddler Jesus, an infant no longer. I could tell you all about those costly gifts and the wonderful symbolism in each of them. We could discuss just exactly where the wise men came from, why they were so interested in a baby Jew, and was that star really just a super nova anyway?
As much as I enjoy arguing theological trivia, I don't want to talk about any of those things. Because they aren't really what's important to us today. It doesn't really matter if the wise men arrived three days or three years after Jesus was born. Stable or house isn't really important. We don't need the wise men's names, or their nationalities either.
What matters in this story is something else entirely: the wise men showed up. It might seem like a small thing. After all, if they hadn't showed up Matthew's account would be a little shorter, we'd have a few less Christmas carols. It might have even been better that way: perhaps a horrible massacre of innocents could have been avoided and Mary and Joseph could have stayed in Bethlehem, safe and anonymous.
But the wise men
did show up. With all the mess their journey caused we might all think it better if they'd never come. Yet how much of our faith, and our journey together, is about just showing up?
Last week we heard the story of Jesus' birth. We watched as glory burst out on a lonely hillside and we watched a group of frightened shepherds show up at the stable. A bit too much wine out on those cold slopes they might have said to one another. They might have huddled down and tried to forget. Instead, they showed up. This week the wise men have traveled a much greater distance, following a rather tenuous guide and ancient stories of a king whose birth would be heralded by a star. They too showed up. The magi and the shepherds shared something important. They were listening, really listening. You see the priests and scribes were supposedly waiting as well. They were supposedly listening for signs that the Messiah was coming, but they missed it. When God did something unexpected they missed it. They didn't show up. Herod, the priests and the scribes all had a chance. They had a chance to listen to the angels, to see the star, to follow the wise men. They had a chance to
show up. Instead they stayed home, paralyzed by fear and their own, human, expectations.
The story of God's people is a story about those who show up when God calls them, and those that don't. And that is our story as well. Because God is calling each and every one of us, just as he called Mary, and Joseph, a bunch of shepherds, some foreign wise men, and even the priests, and the scribes, and Herod himself. God calls all of us. Like those shepherds on the hill it can be terrifying to be called. Like the wise men it can mean a long, hard journey into the unknown. Like the priests and scribes it can come in a form we were never expecting. The question is, will we show up?
This last week, in the midst of bitter cold and a couple winter storms two people I love had to move. They needed to pack up everything they owned, store it away, and live for a little while in a sort of exile. Their friends and family had hoped and prayed it wouldn't be necessary, but we knew it was coming. There wasn't anything we could do to stop it. It would seem we were helpless. It is a scary, frustrating thing to be helpless. But God, in the midst of our fear calls out "don't be afraid, show up!" So this week I did the only thing I could do, I showed up. I didn't wait for the request for help, I showed up and offered, and other friends did as well. We spent five days packing and sorting, storing and cleaning. Sometimes my help probably wasn't really required but in those moments my presence was all I had to offer, and so I gave it. One friend's gifts kept us laughing and rolling our eyes when we might have wanted to cry. Another mover perhaps laid a gentle hand on an arm, silent presence. Some simply worked, their gift
was their presence. As each crisis rose and broke over us like a wave someone showed up, and the crisis was solved.
We all showed up and God was there, waiting for us.
It is often a lot easier
not to show up. It is easier to ignore all the little subtle hints that our presence is needed. It is easier to tell ourselves that everything is
OK, that its somebody-else's-problem. We can be so caught up in our own lives and worries and plans that when God breaks in with a call that doesn't fit that plan we, like the scribes and chief priests, miss it entirely. We do it when we tell ourselves that no one will notice if we skip a church member's cousin's funeral. We do it when we drive past a homeless person every day without seeing her. We do it when we squash those "not quite right" feelings in a situation of suspected abuse. We do it when we refuse to forgive. We do it when we harden our hearts. We do it when we are too busy to call the pew-mate we didn't see in church last week. God calls, and we don't show up.
When we don't show up, epiphany doesn't happen. The Christ child remains cold and alone. Gifts grow stale and unused. A star fades, forgotten. God asks so little of us, and so much. Watch, wait, listen; and show up.
When I was an undergraduate student at Western Michigan University I majored in Computer Science. I had felt an unnameable tug for years but ignored it in favor of a career with high earning potential. And then in my freshman year of study I was hit full force between the eyes by God calling me to ordained ministry. But I didn't show up. I stayed a Computer Science major, I ignored God's call. A few years later, in one of my final courses the professor spent the last class session talking to us about call. He didn't use the church's words but he spoke of the computer science profession as vocation. He spoke passionately about purpose, about living out our lives as an offering to God/Allah/Jehovah. I could see the fire in him, I could see God's call on his life to teach, and yes, to be a computer scientist. And as I looked around me I saw that same call reflected back in many of the faces of my classmates. And I knew in an instant that I hadn't showed up. That God was calling, and I was not listening. I
knew I wasn't called to computer science. I knew what I was called to. Like the scribes and chief priests I wasn't rushing to Bethlehem to see God at work I was hiding behind my own plans and good intentions.
God kept calling, I kept not showing up for the next ten years. Until a wise woman came along, once again asking "where is the child," this time I leaped into the air with joy and said: Let me go
with you that I might worship the baby as well! You see, there is even more good news in our every day epiphany stories. God gives second, and third, and fourth chances. God
never stops calling us. Whatever call God is making on your life right now, or last week, or ten years ago, you still have the chance to show up. No matter how many times you have failed in the past, from fear, or stubbornness, or deafness, or anger, or no reason you can understand: you can still show up. Christ is still there, waiting.
God is calling us to show up. The Magi are at our door asking: where is the child? How will we answer?