The Star Produces a Shadow
Matthew 2:1-12
As you entered the sanctuary this Sunday morning, I am sure you’ve noticed changes – our Thursday work crew put all the Christmas decorations away – the greenery, the Christmas tree with lights, the little nativity figures on the side of our windows and what else? (Hear the answers from the pew..) – except for the Advent Wreath, poinsettias and our crèche. Leaving Advent and the 12 days of Christmastide behind, Christmas is now over; the season of hosting and gifting, the season in which we are most inclined to stop and feel the warmth of others; the season of wonder and awe about the incarnate mystery of God being born to us as a tiny child; the season of being humbled as we lay the Emmanuel, the infant Jesus, on the hay of the crèche, celebrating the birth that took place more than two millennia ago, in a stable with all of its smell and messiness, among the poor, in a land occupied by a foreign power.
The Christmas season may be, to the secular world, just a holiday based on the nativity story of long ago, a story which may sound to them more like an unbelievable magical story or even a cute little fairy tale, sized to fit the small nativity sets at our homes, than a world-shaking historical event. Many children read or hear the story of shepherds who saw angels, heard the angel’s heralds and went to visit a newborn king lying on the hay in the darkest midnight – not in the Bible but in a book such as “Christmas Stories” with other stories in it like “ The Night Before Christmas” or “Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus.” How many children nowadays know the story of the Magi who travelled following a powerful new star for hundreds of miles, finally arriving to greet to the newborn king with prophetic gifts, or the darker story of Herod, mad with jealousy, demanding blood-soaked insurance of his continued reign? Our understanding of Christmas changes with maturity; our comprehension of the Christmas story grows with our own insight.
Debra Bowman shares her reflection; In her house, she always waits until January 6th, the festival of Epiphany, before putting all the Christmas decorations away. The Christmas season doesn’t feel really complete for her until the full 12 days of Christmas end with Epiphany. On the afternoon of January 5th, one day before Epiphany, she said, “taking down the tree, packing up the ornaments, the nativity sets, the stockings, the lights, I felt pretty low while doing so. Maybe it’s the emptiness of the rooms once all the magic has been packed away. Or maybe, it’s the extreme dreariness of these days, when going outside can feel like someone set off a cosmic fire sprinkler. And it’s so dark, all day, and so cloudy, all night, that I couldn’t see the brilliant light of a new star even if it did appear outside my window... Yet as I moped around, sighing as I placed each ornament in its box, I was reminded of how much of the Christmas story does takes place in the dark. Joseph, Mary’s betrothed, is told by the angel Gabriel in a dream, in the dark, not to be afraid to take the pregnant Mary as his wife, to claim the child as his own, The shepherds are watching their flocks “by night” when the angel chorus informs them of the Saviour’s birth. The Magi travel by night, following a star in search of the newborn king.”
One more Christmas has passed in our lifetime; one more Christmas which means different stories to different people is gone. We have put away all the magic which has enchanted our beautiful sanctuary but the Advent Wreath remains, dedicated to a woman who we still miss and love in our hearts. And we lit the candles this morning as in past Christmas days.
Have we wanted to have one more activity which would help us feel fully filled with warmth and energy rather than dreariness after the great feast? Maybe we feel our feast is not complete yet, our hunger not yet fully sated, our thirst not yet quenched – perhaps we want to see the candles flame one more time before we really begin a new season, a new year – seeking an assurance that our hope, our expectant yearning to see the reign of God’s justice, real justice for all people come over the earth, our unpeaceful, struggling planet, might come to fruition this year.
In the first Epiphany 2013 years ago, people saw for the first time that Jesus was Emmanuel, God-with-us, which is really what Christmas and the whole Christian story is all about – God preferred to be with the poor, working with them and blessing them; born to them. Theologians call this “God’s preferential option for the poor.” Here ‘the poor’ doesn’t mean the lower class in socio-economic terms. God’s preferential option for the poor means that out of the despised, the dishonourable and the disgraced comes God’s grace. In our holy story, the people who saw Jesus first were the shepherds, the foreigners, the girl who was pregnant out of wedlock, the stepfather who decided to make a home and be a shelter for the mother and baby.
What did they see? – the light, the light of God, the light for the world: Epiphany means “light which shines forth.” But this light was not daylight which replaces the darkness of the night like we turn the page of a book – one page to the other -. This light was more like shimmering starlight in the midnight sky – No wonder the Bible says the Magi follow the star - . We should discern and recognize the star, distinguishing it from the countless, other star lights in the midnight sky through faith, truth-seeking, patience, wonder and study.
Yesterday evening I was picking up my older son Peace from his daycare in the evening. He asked, “Mom, is it night? Why is the night sky not black – it’s blue!” I explained to him that Christmas lies on the Winter Solstice and since then the days get longer and the nights shorter, that’s why the sky is a dark purple-blue. Then Peace cut off my explanation and exclaimed, “Mom!! See!!” (I think he may grow up to be an astronomer) “The Star!! The Jesus Star!” I looked up and...Yes! There was indeed one, brighter than any other, but most of the stars were deeply hidden in the blue night sky of January. Well, sometimes, to children’s eyes, the star’s light, the Jesus light, may be found at once! But if they turn away their focus to another interesting, sparkling thing which captures their mind, the wonder of five minutes ago stops there. To keep following the star, to keep studying the star, to keep singing about the star requires our devotion; it requires faithfulness.
We are not always sure whether the path we have taken is right or wrong, whether our decision is right or wrong - whether our belief is really close to the truth. Sometimes the darkness may give us more relief, as darkness leaves no shadow. The mystery of faith is that sometimes it invites us to the holy aspect of the darkness – the darkness does not divide things in white and black. The mystery of faith is a paradox, a tension that holds two opposites together; knowing and unknowing, trust and anxiety, light and darkness, certainty and uncertainty. The light of Epiphany is not the opposite of the noun, darkness. The light of Epiphany is the light which flames in the dark.
In addition, it turns out that the light of Epiphany both illumines and darkens. Thomas Steagald writes in “Blogging Toward Epiphany”, “The star produces a shadow; it evokes the human worst even as it testifies to the divine best. And so the thick reality at the heart of all doctrine is iterated; there is a good news of great joy to all people, wonderful comfort to those who are eager to receive God’s gift and reign. But woven into this comfort is a dangerous element that will unite Herod and Pilate and even Caesar – and all those who refuse to receive or yield to this reign of God.
A new year has started; our hearts have been lifted up, but we all know that there is no sharp line which marks the divide between the past year and the new year – our world has the same reality, the same glory and squalor it had seven days ago. Especially as we wean ourselves from the magic of Christmas lights we realize that we live in God’s glorious world and in the human world which struggles. The light of Epiphany illumines and darkens; it flames in the dark and also it leads us to see the shadows of our world – and in us, in our hearts. Let us pray that we may travel the new year confidently, trusting that God’s light will lead us and God’s radiance will greet us. Amen.
How good it is to return to worship! I'm recalling my Thursday comment: "...the reason I come to church is to be inspired and to be nurtured." Today's service -prayer, song, story and sermon -provided both. Your sermon was very powerful in its appreciation of the science of starlight, the dark/brilliant sides of starlight reminds us of the many dichotomies we live with daily: poverty in the midst of material and spiritual brilliance. Peace's part in the story, your sermon, was again, very sincere and empowering. Thank you.
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