THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. PHILIP
6 JANUARY 2005
THE REV. CANON TODD SMELSER, HOMILIST
Although many Christmas trees wait at the curb to be recycled, the traveling to family is completed and many of us can’t even remember all of those holiday parties that filled up Advent, the actual Twelfth Day of Christmas is today, when the light of the Epiphany shines upon us. Perhaps we didn’t receive the gift we had hoped for, or the bonus that we wanted, or even the sense of well-being that we prayed for, but here in the church we got what we always get: the carols of joy, the angel’s promise, the shining star, and the mysterious hush of the shepherds and angels, gathered around the newborn baby. Even in the midst of the international tragedy in Asia, and the reality that we are still at war, there remains the expectation of old: that one day there will be peace and joy in the entire world. God will not leave us alone or lost in darkness and misery. God will not leave us as victims. God will come to us in joy and love—Emmanuel—God with us.
During these twelve days, while the angels and shepherds and donkeys and sheep have kept vigil at the crèche, a group of stargazers have slogged along their weary way, day after day, seeking the promise, in search of the Child. On Epiphany, this night, we acknowledge their arrival. “We three Kings of Orient are, bearing gifts we traverse afar.” And you probably even remember their names, not from the Bible but from Amahl and the Night Visitor: Melchior, Casper and Balthasar. And the gifts, as foretold by the prophet Isaiah would be gold, frankincense and myrrh. But who really were these wise guys?
We really don’t know if there were only three since the Bible just says wise men. And those wonderful names came from the middle Ages, not Holy Scripture. And the Gospel doesn’t say they are kings, but rather magi, wise ones. Perhaps they were scholars or scientist, students of the stars and of the sings. But the Bible does say they were from the east, and that doesn’t mean Lilburn. It means they are not from Israel. They are outsiders. They are foreigners and strangers—gentiles.
We know that there is a struggle in the Old Testament about just exactly who is included in the promise of God. One group of writers clearly believes that it is only the people of Israel who are loved by God. They believe that everyone else, not matter how good or moral or righteous they are, live outside of God’s promise. They are forever outsiders.
There is another school of though that also appears throughout the history of Israel. These folks believe that when the Messiah comes, the promise will be for everyone who comes to believe. As Isaiah proclaimed, foreign nations will stream to your light, and the rulers of the whole world will be drawn to you because you are a beacon of light, a sign of peace. The writer of the book of Ruth weighs into the argument by reminding the reader that no less than King David himself was the great-grandson of a foreigner. Over and over again the faithful are called to make room for the “stranger and sojourner—called to offer hospitality to all.
The argument comes full force in the New Testament as Paul and Peter argue about who will be received into the Body of Christ; whether it will be reserved only for those of Israelite blood and lineage, or whether gentiles, the strangers and sojourners will too be welcomed. Peter thinks the proclamation was only for God’s chosen, while Paul is convinced that he has been called an apostle to the Gentiles.
We know the outcome of that argument, and that’s good news for those of us who were born gentiles. For now the covenant of God is extended to all people.
Matthew’s story of the Wise Men reminds us that this battle was decided long before Peter and Paul’s verbal wrestling match. Those wise guys from the East were Gentiles, representing all of the rest of us, who saw the star and followed it. They followed it across deserts and mountains and across national boundaries. They followed it across their own doubt and fear and skepticism. Finally they arrived at the place where the newborn baby lay. They knelt down and offered him homage. They pledged their allegiance to the Christ child, and became committed to his life. On that holy day they were welcomed into the radiance of God’s love—and so are we.
Their gifts were welcomed as well. The gold, which represents wealth and royalty, was the sign that he would surely be King. The frankincense, incense that burned daily in the Temple as a holy offering to God, was the sign of the child’s holiness. The myrrh, a bitter spice used when the dead were wrapped in a shroud, was a sing that, royal and holy though he was, he would die.
Like the wise men, we too are called to be part of the covenant with God and all humankind. Our lineage is the promise of God given through Jesus Christ. We too are called upon to transcend our own human barriers, called to worship and serve him.
There are still far too many strangers and sojourners in our world. We still live too often in a world of insiders and outsiders—those who are welcome and those who are not. But especially, in this somber time, we are reminded of President Kennedy’s famous speech in a divided Berlin, “Ich ein Berliner.” I am a Berliner. And today we say that we too are Indonesian or Sri Lankan or Thai or Indian. And this Epiphany we too are called upon to offer our gifts to the Christ Child, but not more gifts for his crèche, but water and food and medical supplies and tent for shelter, and support teams for counsel. This year, we of the West are invited to go to the East with our gifts, so that God’s children there might find food for their bodies and hope for their souls.
Perhaps the words of the poet Howard Thurman best express these sentiments…
When the song of the angels is tilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
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 brothers and sisters,
To make music in the heart.
Amen
