Showing posts with label Journey of the Magi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Journey of the Magi. Show all posts

Saturday, January 6, 2024

Epiphany

STAR OF WONDER


We watched the skies. We looked for signs, for wonders; we looked for something in the heavens that was telling us, here on earth, that things were going to change. (We knew they had to.) At the Center for Portentous Phenomena, somewhere east of Jerusalem, we all saw something in the sky - and we came to an agreement: it must mean something of great significance.

The royal planet Jupiter and the planet we associated with the Hebrew People, Saturn, were in alignment three times in the year now known as 7 B.C.E. Three times: Hello! Hello! Hello! “We get the message,” we said, and we set out: for the royal city of the Jews.

We had been following that star for a very long way and we thought we knew what it meant. Across mountain passes filled with untimely snow, across grasslands and along river valleys and into the high desert, across and along the river Jordan and finally up the hill to the summit of the holy mountain - to the city of Zion, the city of (we thought) the kings of the Jews.

That was as far as we got but now we were in the dark.

Politely we inquired of the man in charge: where shall we find him? Where shall we find the one born king of the Jews? For we have been following - his star. (Not yours, pal.)

Oh, he said so politely, is it now? Well tell you what, when you find it, you let me know. I'll be right there - with bells on.

That smelled like dead fish.

But they had clued us in: this may be the royal city, now, but it is not always so: for as the prophet Micah has told us, Bethlehem is not least among the cities of Judah, for from her shall come the greatest of kings: Bethlehem - the city of the shepherd who was king, the city of David.

And so we went.

And then there it was again: that star. We had seen its rising; we are seeing it still. The sign, at last! There was a showing forth of the glorious grace of God: he has sent his king.

And we went into the town of Bethlehem, and inquired at all the right places. And then we were tired, and our camels needed rest.

So we turned their heads toward the caravansary, the place where all the long-distance travelers kept their animals and themselves, to find a place for ourselves in a wayfarers' inn, and, in the stables, a trough at which our animals could feed.

We had looked in all the right places, hadn't we? Among the great we had been courteous, and we had been inquiring minds following the clue of the prophets. And yet - here we were, at the end of our journey, and nothing in the world to show for it.

But there.

There, where we led the camels and the horses to water and food, there we found him. It was a baby, lying in the manger.

An ordinary baby. Of course! We had been looking for the love of God in extraordinary places - well, in this place here it was, in an ordinary looking family in an extraordinary situation. The love was there.

We must have been quite a sight! An eyeful for the caravan men, the stable hands, and the drovers: for you see, we had brought the gifts with us. And we, when we realized what we beheld, had run back and put on our best robes, to present the gifts and ourselves, to give him the honor that was his due - for this baby was the king we sought.

If we had been shepherds we might have brought him lambs' wool or goats' milk, or cheese; as we were wise in the ways of the skies we brought what they had told us, what they had led us to expect...

We carried with us the best gifts of our homelands: frankincense and gold, royal gifts - just as Micah had prophesied! - And one more, one we presented with some trepidation to the young family, myrrh. But the mother nodded: she knew.

And we knew.

And yet we all know something more: he is with us. He is still with us.

And still he calls us, draws us onward, to follow his star, to see the light shining in the darkest night, the light that the darkness has not, will not, cannot, overcome: the light of the love of God.

Come on! He leads us. And we follow. Amen. 


JRL+ 


Monday, June 12, 2023

visitors

 


In this photo released by Russian Orthodox Church Press Service, the Trinity icon by Andrei Rublev is displayed as Russian Orthodox Church Patriarch Kirill conducts an Orthodox service celebrating Trinity Sunday with Russia’s most famous icon transferred from a museum to Moscow’s main cathedral despite the keepers’ vociferous protests in the Christ the Savior Cathedral in Moscow, Russia, Sunday, June 4, 2023. The Trinity icon by Andrei Rublev that was kept in Moscow’s Tretyakov Gallery since the 1920s was moved to Christ the Savior Cathedral for the holiday on President Vladimir Putin’s order. Putin’s sudden order to hand over the 15th century icon to the church came despite protests from the Tretyakov keepers that the icon was too fragile to move. (Oleg Varov/Russian Orthodox Church Press Service via AP)

https://apnews.com/article/russia-trinity-icon-rublev-moscow-cathedral-c78adcee0c929208013c9936f9969291

Russia's most famous icon handed over from museum to church despite protests (Associated Press, June 4, 2023 at 9:27 a.m. EDT)

On Trinity Sunday on my way to church I heard on the radio that Russia’s most famous icon, by Andrei Rublev, was on its way from a museum in Moscow to a nearby church. This icon is frequently cited as an image of the Trinity, a showing in the persons of three mysterious angelic visitors to the tent of Abraham and Sarah at the Oaks of Mamre. It is a close-up, in effect, of the larger scene, one you can see depicted by Ghiberti on the doors of the baptistry of St John  in Florence, Italy (and replicated on the front doors of Grace Cathedral in San Francisco). 


Looking at the bigger picture you can see Abraham in front of the tent offering hospitality to the strangers, while Sarah peeks from behind the flap of the tent. They are receiving strange news from strange guests. The icon that focuses in on the three visitors shows them in harmonious relation to each other, a dancing image of God, (perichoresis, reciprocal coinherence) since as they are three, or two, or one, they are a “God sighting” as Reverend Billy calls it (theophany), a miraculous appearance or vision of the presence of God.  





The image is from the story in the book of Genesis (18:1-15, 21:1-7) of three strangers that come to the tent of Abraham and Sarah at the Oaks of Mamre, where their flocks and herds are pastured by the trees, and they greet the old man and his old wife, and receive hospitality. And then give her a blessing. There was to be a child, and a great promise.  


For God had said to Abraham, ‘As for your wife— I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations; kings of peoples shall come from her.’ ‘And by your offspring shall all the nations of the earth gain blessing for themselves.’


There are elements in this story that probably came across with particular power over the many centuries of the Jewish people. Three strangers arrive, receive hospitality, give a blessing, and tell of a child of great promise. Hard to forget, wonderfully told, a story for the ages.


On Trinity Sunday I wondered if Mary heard it, if it came to mind as she sheltered near Bethlehem with her newborn son. (Matthew 2:1-12) Because here again, there were, so many centuries later, a mother and a child of great promise, and three strangers who said, as those earlier visitors had said, “through this child a great blessing will come to his people, and to all the world.” 


The new mother: did she smile at this? Did she laugh? Did she laugh to hear the news or did she gently accept it or did she do both? What child was this? What parents? Now this one was already born, when the strangers, this time astrologers, Wise Men, Magi from the east, said to its mother, that this child would be a blessing to his people, and to all the world. Again three strangers, again a mother and a child. Again, a great promise, and in both cases that one promise has become fulfilled.




​​http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Pentecost/AProp6_RCL.html#ot1

http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC_RCL/Epiphany/Epiph_RCL.html


Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7)
Matthew 2:1-12


A version of this meditation was printed in the Arizona Daily Star, Keeping the Faith feature of the Home + Life section, pg. E3, on Sunday, July 16, 2023, under the heading, "3 visitors and a blessing."






Sunday, January 3, 2021

Good Trouble

 Our story this Sunday, the second Sunday after Christmas, is a different story of the Nativity ... or of the early infancy of the Child Jesus. For it begins with representatives of the nations, people from far away, arriving in the court of Herod the Great with a humble request to see the child who has been born king. 

Somewhat awkward. The powers that be had not expected this. There had been 'messiahs' before, and champions of freedom, and there would be again. This however was not the arrival of a warrior. 

It was worse. The prince of peace arrived innocent. In the City of David to be sure, but a shepherd boy would be more menacing. This is an opportunity, the king concludes. To get in there right away and do the right thing ... by his own lights.

But he sends the seekers on their way and they do visit the child and his family, and surprise them with gifts.  

Royal gifts - gifts for a king.

They begin to see the danger.

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night and thought, I know what I have to do? Right now?

Something like that happened to Joseph (and more than once). He took mother and child by night and fled.

What a beginning, and what an exit.

***

Stars you say? Or perhaps a great conjunction of planets. Somehow in the skies a cosmic event heralded, to the wise, an event with earthly import. And more importantly, an earthly event had cosmic significance.

Zoroastrians might point to this as the collision of darkness and light. Certainly the powers that be, with all their dark significance and mighty power, were troubled at this small glimmering of hope in a stable.

But not even the night belonged to Herod the Great. Not truly. For it was under the cover of darkness, over those self-same planets now slowly departing from their conjunction, that the holy family made its escape.

And when they return freedom will travel with them.

***

The wise men have left. The holy family has departed, safely, by night into exile.


The story does not end there. Herod the Great waits in vain for the magi to report back to him. So he takes extraordinary expedient measures. 


From a scene of innocence and glory, from a moment of wise perception and quiet celebration, we pass into a scene of power and overweening pride.


Herod takes out a ghastly form of insurance. Knowing that the child was to be born a king, and born at Bethlehem, he tries to wipe out the threat of goodness by killing all children under two.


No child is safe until all children are safe.


When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the wise men. Then was fulfilled what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah: ‘A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.’ (Matthew 2:16-18)

The story does not end there either! As the prophet Jeremiah went on to say, after that lamentation:

Thus says the Lord: Keep your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears; for there is a reward for your work, says the Lord: they shall come back from the land of the enemy; there is hope for your future, says the Lord: your children shall come back to their own country. (Jeremiah 31:16-17)

And so --

When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, "Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child's life are dead." Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 

But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling over Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, "He will be called a Nazorean." (Matthew 2:19-23)

There is hope; there is a way forward. The young family return to Israel; but not to be under the eye of Herod’s son enthroned in his place they divert their steps to a small hill-town in Galilee. 


Can anything good come out of Nazareth?


Today of course if you go there you might see a small stream, and imagine Mary getting water there. You might see a little dwelling, discovered under the surface of a morning street, and remember the humble beginnings of the carpenter’s son. You might see Roman pavement in front of a street door, imagine steps of shodden foot passing close by the home of a little child.


And you might imagine the child growing in wisdom and in strength. That day will come.


For now the parents, and the shepherd and the angels and the wise men, carry the secret.


And then it will be carried forward, by evangelists, disciples men and women and children.


By us.

***

So the Christmas season continues after the birth of the Savior. 

After the angels depart. After the wise men go their way. So now what? Howard Thurman, a pastor in San Francisco, told us this way: 

When the Song of the Angels Is Stilled

When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and the princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flocks,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among people,

To make music in the heart.

Now the work begins.

Now it is our turn, our time. The story of the child is not over, not yet.

When the family returns from Egypt they go not to Bethlehem but to Nazareth. And there Mary and her husband Joseph will raise the child. They will diligently take him to the festival in Jerusalem, Passover, the feast that means so much, and promises freedom as it celebrates the faithfulness of God. But soon, we will be hearing and celebrating - and trying to understand - the story of the adult: of Jesus coming out of Nazareth to the shores of the Sea of Galilee, and returning for that festival - with cosmic consequence.

For now though it is on us.

Can we join him, join Jesus, as he grows and matures into an adult and fearless faith? Into action prophetic and natural? As he simply does the right thing, the significant thing, which is the human thing to do? And realize how in each cup of water, each tray of food, each healed sore or sadness, we proclaim the glory? 

That God is with us. 

God is with us first as a fragile child, who must be wrapped up in his innocence and born far away. God is with us in the proclamations of the angels, the singing of the shepherds, the doting of a father?

God is with us in anger over injustice, and in doing something about it. 

How we treat each other, our environment, and the creation of which we are a part, shows that glory.

Perhaps it is as simple as calling a friend or greeting a stranger: how are you doing in these dark times? Do you see the light is coming back? What can I do to help you? Or how can we pray together? Maybe it is more political than that. Maybe it is more indirect, not knowing the impact of your gift or confidence.

But it is our time now. To do what Jesus will do, to learn who Jesus is, and who we are becoming in Him.

In Him, in his footsteps, rejoicing in what he is doing, we begin to heed the words of many prophets.

"To heal the broken-hearted"

"To make his pathways smooth"

To go ourselves to Jerusalem, in our hearts, to adore - and to get busy. 

Good trouble, indeed, is on the way.



https://fcjsisters.wordpress.com/2013/01/11/when-the-song-of-the-angels-is-stilled-howard-thurman/

http://edgeofenclosure.org

https://youtu.be/fuFqCb1B5gM (Second Sunday after Christmas, January 3rd 2021, St Andrew's Episcopal Church, Tucson, 10am service)

Saturday, December 19, 2020

The Great Conjunction



Astronomer friends in our neighborhood told me not long ago where to look in the sunset sky for something phenomenal: two planets converging night after night, coming closer together, forming one brilliant light above the crescent moon in the sunset. It formed and forms an unforgettable sight, one bound to become even more remarkable as the winter solstice approaches. It is called the great conjunction, as the light of two planets, Jupiter and Saturn, is superimposed.

2000 years ago magi (Wise Men) may have looked upon a similar sight: two planets growing closer together, forming a brilliant spot in the sky.


Why for them was this a birth announcement? Why did it tell them to pack up and go to Jerusalem? When before had far away nations paid homage to a son of David?


A child who is born became king of the Jews yet Solomon in all his wisdom never saw stars like this and never was so arrayed — and Jesus was and is so arrayed, but in the glory that came to him on the cross. It is not far from Jerusalem to Bethlehem; it is not far again from the Church of the Nativity to the Church of the Resurrection. 


The wise men Herod sent on their way from Jerusalem to Bethlehem went bearing gifts for a king.


The king they sought later bore a cross through the marketplace streets of Jerusalem— buying and selling shouting in bargaining going on around him, soldiers driving him from the pavement below Herod’s Palace to the rocky prominence of Golgotha, to place him on the cross. 


And yet this was the fulfillment; the fulfillment of the sign in the sky that drew the wise to Jerusalem to pay homage to the child who would become king.

 

And what was an earthly pilgrimage had as pilgrimages do portents beyond our planet. For the child born to reign was not to have a kingdom of this world as Herod held but one whose realm was cosmic. This child would set the world free; invite all people to come into the right relationship with each other, with creation, with all things. As the psalmist sings, 


He shall deliver the poor who cries out in distress, and the oppressed who has no helper. He shall have pity on the lonely and poor; he shall preserve the lives of the needy. He shall redeem their lives from oppression and violence, and dear shall their blood be in his sight. (Psalm 72:10-14)


What makes this king worth celebrating, warming hearts of children and all who look to the stars in the sky is not his majesty but his service, and the liberation from sorrow, the release into joy, that his coming calls forth from us, cause for wonder, love and praise.


“They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.” (Isaiah 60:6) 




Written for the Arizona Daily Star, in anticipation of the Epiphany. 

(https://tucson.com/the-great-conjunction/article_2beb7163-51cf-53a4-83ec-6ea71021f44a.html)


https://lowell.edu/the-great-conjunction/


Henry van Dyke, The Story of the Other Wise Man (Harper & Row, 1895)

Friday, December 20, 2013

desert travelers

A walk in the desert. A glimmer. Something new, something good, something hopeful. Across the desert a mixed reception. An authority figure, not meeting the eye, but spreading suspicion in the corners of the room. All he says: When you find what you are looking for, let me know. Journey on. And there – did I mention you bear gifts of value beyond measure of money? – you find the beginning of a new order of the ages, in nascent glory.


Who are you? Wise ones from the East? Naomi and Ruth? Joshua? A family from the land across the desert?

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Epiphany 2012

I am so glad that we can celebrate this feast today - the glory of God revealed. Arise! Shine! For your light has come... and the Magi show us that the light is for us - we outsiders - outside Israel, outside the campfire, strangers, marginal people, Gentiles, foreigners.... No one is "Stranger" to God. We are all included, all invited, all welcome, into the glory that is the Light of God. Jesus was the epiphany, the manifestation, the showing-forth, the revelation of God's glory, light, and love. You and I are the epiphany - the ones who show God's love - today. What kind of epiphany are we? What kind of God do we make manifest? How do we show the love of God - and share the love of God - and celebrate?

In this place, in this time, here and now, how is God leading us? How is God calling us, forth from our familiar places, to the brave new world that shines with God's glory?

The Magi were strangers, traveling from far away, seeking the One born King of the Jews - seeking the Good News, the good news for all people: Christ our Savior is born, the Messiah is come, the redeeming of the nations and revealing of glory to his people.

How shall we make manifest God's glory in our lives? How shall we seek and follow God's leading as individuals, as a church, as a nation, as people of prayer who are first and last God's beloved children?

As we go forth from this place, sent by God's grace into the world, to love and serve him, in the Christ we meet on the road, let us seek to see God at work in the world, to see Jesus our Lord in the light of sunset, in the face of the unknown who is not a stranger but truly our brother.

Let the Light shine in us, through us, for the glory of God. Amen.

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JRL+

Sources include: Robert D. Fuller, Homilies from the Heart, Year B (KAN, 2010) http://www.cabrinitucson.org/Homily_Books-Sale.html

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Sunday, January 3, 2010

Celebrating the Feast of the Epiphany 2010

On the eve of the New Year at sunset I looked up toward the mountains and saw a bright light far up the hill. At first I wondered if it were bright Christmas lights on a nearby building. Then it grew and grew and grew, and I realized it was the full moon coming up on the eve of the new year, just as the sun set on the last day of the old decade. Which is now behind us.

It was a wonderful moment, beautiful and calm, and somewhat otherworldly. This bright big ball in the sky so round and clear was another world.

It was like a sign - a sign of something new about to begin.

Somewhere far away and long ago, some of the wise of the earth, perhaps astronomers, certainly sky-watchers, caught sight of a new light in the heavens. They saw at its rising a star. Its significance to them was more than ordinary.

They felt the world had order and purpose - that was reflected in the sky. And so they attributed to this star the role of herald, announcing the birth of one born to be king of Israel.

And so they set out from home, having prepared to meet a king. They brought along royal gifts - of gold, frankincense, and myrrh - and traveled to the city at the center of the Jewish world, Jerusalem.

There they were greeted by the great Herod, builder of the Second Temple, Hasmonean king, ruler and, truth be told, tyrant of Israel and client of Rome.

"Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?" they asked, "For we have observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage."

Oh, ah. How interesting. How wonderful. How nice of you to come. Glad you dropped by.

The Messiah? Born? Real? Now? What a threat! What would Herod do? What could Herod do? This could unmake all his achievements - for he was king in Israel, by Caesar's hand. The legitimacy of his rule was quite worldly indeed. The restless people of the Hebrews could easily be upset. If they knew the one prophesied had actually been born - the redeemer, the liberator, the hero who would lead them to freedom - then his rule could be doomed.

So he found out from his wisest advisors - where was the Messiah, the anointed one, the Christ - to be born? And they told him, Bethlehem.

On the quiet he got together with the wise men, the travelers from far away, and told them, Bethlehem: go there, find the child, and then let me know so that I too can go and pay him ... homage.

Something about this conversation must have bothered the visitors, who were after all wise men, for a restless night intervened and they went another way home.

They had come a long way already, and who knows what obstacles they had encountered. The twentieth-century poet T. S. Eliot has us imagine the journey of the magi (the wise people) as one over hill and dale through the cold of winter, encountering all the people and situations of the caravansary and the inn, the roadside wreck and the (at last) arrival. They found the child - and knelt and worshipped him. And their lives were changed.

Their lives – and ours - were changed, far beyond the change feared by Herod the Great.

The wise people found they could not go back home, not the way they had come. They could not go back that way because they were changed people. The old 'gods' - the old ways of worship, of living, the old ways of making sense of the world - no longer fit.

Something had died - some old way of being - because behold! Something new had come into the world and everything changed.

It had to.

The one they had found was light to the nations as well as glory to God's people Israel. News, not only for those faithful servants who had sought God's favor over the years and centuries, but for all people, from all places and nations and walks of life, now came of a redeemer, a sanctifier, a liberator.

So they went home, when they went, by another road - and as other men.


Journey of the Magi

‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The was 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 gong 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.

All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we lead all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I have 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.


—T.S. Eliot



We set out long ago and are changed by the journey. Encountering watering holes, an oasis; a caravansary, an inn; encountering strangers, finding companions on the way. Resisting the temptation to stop at the oasis - to ration the water, and to take note - there are only so many dates to go around. But eventually the water fouls and the dates rot. So on we go - and are changed, despite ourselves. We wish only to develop, to grow - but we will change, move on, and seek, seek Christ the Lord. And finding him, be satisfied - with what we have found - and yet not be satisfied in ourselves any longer.

For this Birth also means a Death - a death of the old ways of being. This first coming of the Christ presages a second. And so we experience a death, to our old selves - and feel in ourselves a second birth, into life in Christ, the resurrection life - the life that we know, that we knew, would come after death, begins now.

We are born anew because he is born - because he dies, we die to our sins - and we are born into eternity.

Three kings, wise men, journey west, into the sunset, bearing gifts, seeking Christ, following a star, finding - that Birth, that Death. The old ways no longer satisfy.

And so while the full moon rising on New Years Eve, and the sunset that came before it, show us the beginning of something new - a year, and the death of something old - the old year - there is a real rising and a real new thing happening every day all around us and once for all in Christ.

It is the birth of the life of the spirit - in us; in our world; and it happens, it begins anew, when Christ is born in our hearts.

Like the wise people who followed the star they saw on its rising, seeking the child born to be king, seeking salvation and good news for all peoples, we have a journey before us. It is the journey into Christ.

We are followers of Christ, his life our leading star as we follow on his way, as the wise people sought the one born king, he guides us on our way, calls us forward into new relationship with God, others, and our selves. His is the sign we follow - the sign that points to and beyond himself, to new life.

How do we take this journey? What should we do?

We begin to make our way down the road by taking responsibility for our own growth and development, as individual persons and as a community of believers. In the areas of emotional, intellectual, ethical, moral, communal, and spiritual activity, we begin to let Christ take over as the Lord, the king, in our own lives.

As a community we build respect, courtesy, truth-telling in love, honest seeking of the truth. How we deal with each other and how we reach out to the world begin to reflect the light of Christ. Our dealings with others, our ministries and mission outreach, begin to show the lordship of Christ in our lives as a Christian people.

The call to conversion, to follow Christ, the morning-star of the new creation, comes to full reality as we take our place in the larger community, the church and the world around us, and as we become responsible citizens and moral agents in the life of our town and nation.

How we follow that star - and how we reflect its light however dimly and obscurely, with whatever flickers of inattention or neglect, - how we follow Christ, begins to make manifest to those around us the reality of the good news: a king has been born, a light given to the nations and hope to the world.

We are carried forward in our death to the old and the birth into the new larger life, which comes to its completion in the one who began at Bethlehem.

Our identity as a people of God, of this particular congregation, is part of this new birth. What will we look like as we continue to become God's people?

We cannot return to the past, to be what we once were or wish we were, but we can become what we are called to be, to become God's people here on earth at this time in this place, with these gifts we have, and the gifts to come – the surprising gifts borne by unexpected visitors, like the magi of old – who bear their gifts to bring to kneel and pay homage to the one born at Bethlehem and born anew in each of us as we pray: come Lord Jesus.

Come and be our guiding star. Come be the light of the world made manifest in us. Make your home in our lives. And may we live at home in you.



Edmonds, Wash., January 3, 2010.


T. S. Eliot, "Journey of the Magi" (1927), Collected Poems 1909-1962 (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1963) 99-100.

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