"Jesus' Baptism and Ours." A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Baptism of the Lord Sunday

"Jesus' Baptism and Ours"

Luke 3:15-22

Here we are again, in the season of Epiphany, on Baptism of the Lord Sunday.  Each year the lectionary gives us the story of Jesus’ baptism, as told by Matthew, Mark, or Luke.  This year, it’s Luke. 

Most of the third chapter of Luke follows the story of John's ministry as told by Matthew and Mark.  John is the voice crying in the wilderness… John baptizes hundreds who came out to be baptized. We hear John making it clear that he isn't the Messiah:  "I baptize you with water," he said, "but one who is more powerful than I is coming.  I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire."

But then Luke adds a little interlude about Herod being very angry with John, because John had charged him with stealing his brother's wife.  Indeed, Luke tells us Herod was so upset that he shut John up in prison. The lectionary wants to omit these verses. They interrupt the narrative we’re used to hearing, and they complicate how we interpret the story of Jesus’ baptism. But I think Luke included the verses for a reason.

After the little interlude about Herod throwing John into prison, the story goes on. "Now, when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized.

But how could John baptize Jesus if John was in prison? Or is Luke simply writing about something that had already happened before Herod imprisoned John?

If we pay close attention, we might notice that Luke doesn’t say anything about Jesus' baptism. There's nothing here about Jesus going down into the water or coming up out of the water. We probably assume that this happened as the other gospels tell the story, but Luke doesn't seem to be very interested in the actual moment of baptism-- but only what happened after baptism.

What Luke seems to be more interested in is that Jesus was praying when the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove.

There’s another difference in the way Luke tells the story. In the different accounts, we hear John saying, “I baptize you with water, but one who is more powerful than I is coming.”  But Luke goes on to say, “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary. But the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

            Now, I know some people’s minds connect the “fire” John talks about to the fires of hell, but that’s not what this is about. Generally, “fire” in the Bible isn’t about punishment, but about purification.  This imagery is about Jesus separating the good grain in our lives from the chaff—which is the husk part that is often thrown away-- and how the chaff would be burned away.
            Luke tells us that, when Jesus was baptized, the spirit in the form of a dove came upon him. As Adam Ericksen points out, the symbol of the Roman Empire was a fierce eagle—a bird of prey. The early Christians had a different symbol: a peaceful dove.[1]
            Luke pictures John the Baptist as an end-time prophet who announced that the world was about to change, that the realm of God was being ushered in—a new world in which all things would live together in love, peace, justice, mutual support, freedom, and dignity.
            When John called people to repent and be baptized, he was calling them to turn away from complicity with the old age and its values and behaviors and to turn toward the coming realm. John announced that the one who was coming would be more powerful, and would bring in the new kingdom and leave the Holy Spirit to empower the community to continue to witness to the realm.

When Jesus was held under the water by John the Baptist, whenever it happened, he showed what baptism is, for Jesus and for us. It’s a sign of what’s already true—no matter what the Herods or Caesars of this world say. God tells us who we are: “You are a beloved child of God.”

            Jesus’ baptism was an epiphany moment—as the Holy Spirit descends upon him… and he and others heard confirmation from God: “You are mine.  Beloved.  I am well pleased with you.” 
            Baptism teaches us who we are – God’s beloved children.   It reminds us of the promise:  God loves us unconditionally.   Baptism reminds us that we discover who we are in relation to whose we are:  God’s beloved children.  We belong to God’s family, and baptism is a tangible sign of that.
            Baptism is about knowing who we are, so we don’t waste precious time searching frantically for an identity that something or someone else can confer on us-- but instead, use our lives to live out our God-given, baptism-shaped identity.
            The same Spirit that descended on Jesus baptizes us!   We can live in confidence that-- no matter how often we fall short or fail-- nothing that we do or fail to do can change the fact that we are God’s beloved children.  This identity is something God gives us—as a gift.
            Maybe you don’t remember, but at your baptism, that voice named and claimed you.   We need to remember our baptism.  So, turn to your neighbor, and remind them.    Tell them, you are God’s child...  God’s beloved.   God loves you and claims you.  [Some people even got out of their seats to share this good news.  There were smiles and maybe a handshake or hug or two.]
            There’s something else we need to remember: at our baptism, God gave each of us the gift of the Spirit.   So, let’s turn to one another and remind one another:  You’ve got the Spirit, because God gave it to you when you were baptized.
[Again, people moved around a bit and made sure everybody was reminded that they’ve got the Spirit.]

Okay, so what does all this mean? 

            Without the rest of Jesus’ life, his baptism isn’t something we can comprehend.  We can only comprehend the purpose of Jesus’ baptism when we look at the days and years that followed that day in the Jordan.  It’s when we see Jesus taking his place with hurting people that his baptism starts to make sense.  Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan foreshadowed his baptism on the cross.  Baptism was Jesus’ commissioning for ministry.
            During the week before his death, Jesus was challenged by the leaders of the temple: “By what authority do you do these things?”
            Jesus answers by referring to his baptism: “Was the baptism of John from heaven-- or not?”  In other words, I was baptized.  That’s how all this started.”  It was in the waters of baptism that Jesus heard the Spirit calling him to speak the truth and to live with grace.
            In baptism, God proclaims God's grace and love for us.  God claims us and marks us as God’s own.  We have a new identity as members of the body of Christ.
            So, we are baptized and begin a lifelong journey with God...  a lifelong process of conversion and nurture that begins at the font and doesn't end until death, until we are at last tucked safely into the everlasting arms of the God who first reached for us in baptism.
            God keeps on reaching out for us throughout our lives.  God isn't finished with any of us yet.  Every day we live out our baptism.  Every day we need to respond to God's gracious gifts in our lives...  open ourselves again to God's work in our lives...  say yes in all the big and little things we do and people we meet and promises we keep throughout the day.
            A major part of God's daily saving work in our lives is God's gift of the Holy Spirit. Just as God's creating Spirit hovered over the waters in the very beginning, the Holy Spirit works in us...leads us daily...tugging at our lives until we are more fully turned toward God. 
            In our baptism, we become part of a royal priesthood, a holy nation, in order that we may proclaim the mighty acts of the One who called us out of darkness, into God's marvelous light.^[1] 
           In our Reformed part of the Protestant branch of Christ’s church, we take our membership in the priesthood of all believers very seriously.  In fact, in the Presbyterian Church, we take this calling so seriously that we ordain our officers for service.  The questions we ask at a service of ordination and installation of elders and deacons-- the questions you'll hear in a few minutes-- are the same questions asked of a Minister of the Word and Sacrament, except one.   The congregation makes promises too:  to support and encourage and pray for those who are serving as officers.              
            Every one of us gathered here has been given a particular set of gifts to use in God's service.  This community of believers is part of God's plan to bring good news of healing and freedom to a broken, hurting world. 
            On this Baptism of the Lord Sunday, we are reminded of Jesus' baptism and our own.  We are reminded who we are...  and whose we are.
            At your baptism, the same Spirit came down upon you as came down upon Jesus at his baptism.   The same Father said to you,  "you are my beloved son"...   or "you are my beloved daughter."  The same Father has continued ever since to hold you...   and to work to empower you for God's work.

How easy it is, in the midst of this life, to forget who you are...  and whose you are.  So, the church is here to remind you that God has named us...  and claimed us...   and seeks us and loves us unconditionally.

This is the gift Baptism gives to us. We are children of God, joined together with Christ to all the other Children of God. 

            So, remember your baptism and be thankful.  For this is who we are.
            Listen attentively for God’s call.  Use the gifts God has given you as a sign of the outbreaking of the kingdom of God.  Take on new challenges in your ministry.  Rely on the Holy Spirit to lead and empower and uphold you. 
            As you go out into the world, be the minister that God has called you to be.
            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

January 13, 2019

---

[1] Adam Ericksen, “Girardian Reflection on the Lectionary: The Baptism of Jesus: Deconstructing the Fires of Hell.” https://www.ravenfoundation.org/girardian-reflection-on-the-lectionary-the-baptism-of-jesus-deconstructing-the-fires-of-hell/ 

"A Different Way." A Sermon on Epiphany Sunday from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.

"A Different Way"

Matthew 2:1-12

The after-Christmas sales have been going on since December 26, and a lot of people in the wider society have moved past the celebrations of Christmas.  However, the church is on a different calendar.  There are twelve days of Christmas.  So today we’re celebrating the Epiphany, which actually falls this year on January 6.   In Latin America and parts of the Caribbean, Three Kings Day is the big celebration of Jesus’ birth.  And in the Eastern part of the Church, Epiphany is the important festival and celebrates the baptism of Jesus.

            In Matthew’s gospel, the Christmas birth narrative is told in the first chapter.  By the first verse of the second chapter, the shepherds are a distant memory.  When the mysterious seers from the East bring their gifts and worship, Jesus is almost two years old.   The holy family is settled in Bethlehem, raising their toddler.  

            On the road to Bethlehem are a group of magi-- Zoroastrian priests, who—despite what the song says-- weren’t kings.  Matthew doesn’t tell us how many there were. Maybe they were known as wise men- because of their skills in interpreting dreams and understanding astrology. They were searching the darkness of the sky...  following a star...  hoping to find the Christ child.  They left the comfort and security of their homes to travel through the desert on their quest. 

            When they saw that the star had stopped-- they were overwhelmed with joy!  They found the child Jesus...    and they knelt down and worshiped him.  Then they offered him their gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh.

            In his story about the Magi, Matthew tells how some people responded to the birth of the Christ with joy and devotion. But woven into the story of the Magi's devotion is the story of Herod's reaction to the birth of the King of the Jews.  “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him.” I think we can read between the lines to understand that when Herod was unhappy, the people in the region had reason to be concerned about what he might do.

            Herod knew that his kingdom would be threatened by a new king.  The possibility of not being in charge of the kingdom didn't bring him joy.  He was confused and afraid… “and all Jerusalem with him.”  If this child was really the Messiah-- it would change everything.

            In Matthew’s telling of the Nativity story, we hear a note of fear and opposition to the Messiah’s birth.   The news of the birth of a new “king of the Jews” threatens Herod’s power and the status quo. 

            Perhaps the fear and agitation were also about how the world might be changing, that God is doing something new, and that nothing can stay the same. 

            The arrival of these three astrologers is a sign that the reach of God’s embrace is broadening…that there is no longer “insider” and “outsider,” but that all are included in God’s mercy and salvation.  This isn’t a new theme in Judaism.  But now it is happening in ways that wise ones can see it.  Who knows what could happen next?

            Do you hear the given-ness of that event—the gift?   Do you hear the inclusive and universal nature of it?  What God did in and through Israel in Jesus is not only for Israel-- but for the whole world, for all people. 

            If we were listening carefully on Christmas Eve, we heard the angel say this to the shepherds:  this good news is for all people. 

            Some of us hear this as good news.  But for others, this more inclusive understanding of God’s salvation plan is troubling.  For those who are more privileged or powerful, the idea of change can cause a fearful response.   Herod had instructed the magi to come back and tell him where they’d found the Christ child.  But they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so they traveled back to their own country by a different way.  An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and warned him the Herod would be searching for them and sent them to Egypt, so the Holy Family became refugees.

            Herod was so terrified of the promise that God would, in this child, restore peace and justice that he was willing to slaughter the infants of a whole region.  When he realized the magi hadn’t come back to tell him where the Christ child was, he ordered that all the children two years and under in and around Bethlehem be killed.  This reminded people of what had been written by the prophet Jeremiah:  “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children, she refused to be comforted, because they are no more.”[1]

            As David Lose suggests, such a grim account of wholesale massacre and desperate flights to safety would seem far-fetched were it not for similar atrocities and tragedies happening right now.[2]   How many Syrian refugee families have left everything behind in a desperate flight for safety?  How many children are starving to death around the world or dying of preventable illnesses?  How many families have fled the danger in their central American homes, desperately seeking asylum?  How many families are contending with their own sorrows and hardships?

            The light shines in the darkness, but there is still so much darkness in the world.   But Matthew wants us to know that in Jesus—Emmanuel—God has drawn near to us and came to live among us, full of grace and truth. 

            When life is beautiful and filled with goodness and grace, God is part of that, blessing us and celebrating with us.  When life is hard and painful and scary, God is part of that too, holding on to us, comforting us, blessing us with the promise that God will stay with us through the good and the bad, drawing us more and more deeply into God’s loving embrace…and promising that nothing—not even death—can separate us from God’s love.[3]

            Our scripture lessons for Epiphany are good news!  We hear the prophet Isaiah saying, “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.”  No matter how dark things look to you now, look around.  You shall see and be radiant.  Your heart shall thrill and rejoice.”  

            The Gentiles from the East, these outsiders kneeling to worship the Christ child, remind us that to worship the Christ with them is to see humanity differently, as one family of God, and that the mission of the church is to nurture, promote, work for, and celebrate the oneness of the human family—not to divide it

            Here too we can learn from the Magi and how they responded to Christ’s birth.  The magi had to take another road home.  Not the most direct route, or the most convenient or comfortable. 

            Now that we have traveled to Bethlehem, things can be different for us. 

            I love the way Peter Gomes puts it: “For we have come from an encounter with the world of the possible in the midst of the impossible.  We have seen God…and survived to tell the tale, moving about not knowing that our faces shine with the encounter, bearing the mark of the encounter forever, and marveling in the darkest night of the soul at that wondrous star-filled night.”

            The world will change because we are changed.  We have seen God—not high and lifted up—but lowly and vulnerable.  God with us! 

            We have seen the reality and power of love to conquer hate and violence.  We have wondered at the mystery of life and love.  We have seen the Christ child, and nothing will ever be the same.

            We are changed.  And because we are changed, the world will change, gradually, as we live out our call to carry Christ’s light out into the world...  to let the light of the gospel shine through our lives. 

            Let the light in, live in it, and let your light shine…  That is the heart of the Christian life.

            Which brings us to this Table.  For here Christ, the Light of the World, offers himself to us in the gifts of bread and wine.  This table is open to all who have been claimed by Christ in baptism, all who come to be fed, all who desire to know the truth and power of Jesus.       

            So, come.  Taste and see…and feast in the radiant reality of Christ our Light.  May the Light of the World not only shine on your life, but live in and be reflected in you.

            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

January 6, 2019

"Hard to Hear." A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.

"St John Reproaching Herod", Artist: Il Cavaliere (1662-1666)

"Hard to Hear"

Amos 7:7-15; Mark 6:14-29

The prophets Amos and John the Baptist spoke truth to power in these hard-to-hear texts... and how that turned out. 

            Prophets are unpopular, and Amos is no exception.

            Amos prophesies to the Northern Kingdom-- Israel-- during the long and expansive reign of Jeroboam. This was a time of prosperity for the North. Amos is concerned about the concentration of wealth among the urban elites, and he repeatedly talks about their luxury goods as signs of their moral decay. He openly mocks their luxuries and calls them out for their failure to act justly.[1]

            This material prosperity seems to have come at the expense of the poor, and points to the growing gap between the rural poor and wealthier landowners:  “They sell the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals -- they who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth, and push the afflicted out of the way.”[2]  

            God’s deep concern for human justice is a theme throughout Amos’ prophecy. As Amos kept proclaiming, God is not indifferent to human suffering, oppression, and injustice. In Amos chapter 3, we hear the prophet proclaim, “The lion has roared; who will not fear?  The Lord God has spoken; who can but prophesy?”   

            Amos and other prophets tell us that God’s love demands righteousness. Breaches of God’s call to justice and love cause God grief.

            In today’s lesson, Amos sees a vision of a “plumb line” beside a wall.  This “plumb line” is a symbol for God’s judgment for Israel’s failure to fulfill their call to justice and love.

            Amos preaches that King Jeroboam will die by the sword, and Israel will go into exile. He anticipates the fall of the Northern Kingdom to Assyria.

            Amaziah, the high priest, is a religious authority who speaks on behalf of his temple as well as his King.  Amaziah is an insider, and he has a vested interest in institutional stability.  He’s outraged by how Amos is threatening the status quo.

            This is a king’s sanctuary and a temple of the kingdom,” Amaziah says. Amaziah is supported by the king, so Amos’ prophecy is a threat to position and his way of life. Amaziah tells Amos to go away and make his living as a professional prophet somewhere else.

            But Amos insists that he isn’t a professional prophet. He’s an outsider-- “a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees,” whom God called to prophesy to the people of Israel.

            Amos’ message is hard to hear.  But he lived to keep on prophesying.

            The gospel story we heard today from Mark is also hard to hear. It’s a terrible story.  Don’t you wonder:  Why on earth does Mark include this story in his gospel?

            Overall, Mark’s gospel is very concise. And yet, Mark gives a 16-verse account of John the Baptist’s beheading by Herod. This is the longest anecdote in Mark’s gospel, and the only flashback. Other than the discovery of the empty tomb, it’s the only story in which Jesus doesn’t appear.

            So, what’s so important to Mark in this gruesome story?

            When we look at this story in context, we see that it comes after the sending out of the Twelve. Jesus had been going around among the villages teaching, and he called the Twelve and began to send them out two by two. He gave them authority over the unclean spirits. The Twelve went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons and anointed with oil many who were sick, and they cured them.[3]

            Herod heard about this, and that some were saying, “John the baptizer has been raised from the dead, and for this reason these powers are at work in him.” Some others said, “It is Elijah.” And others said, “It is a prophet, like one of the prophets of old.” But when Herod heard of it, he said, “John, whom I beheaded, has been raised.”[4]

            This is where the narrative flashes back to how Herod had beheaded John the Baptist.

            Herod remembers that he had sent men to arrest John and put him in prison on account of Herodias, because John had been telling him that it was unlawful for him to marry his brother’s wife while his brother was still alive.

            Now, these relationships are complicated. This Herod is Herod Antipas, the son of the Herod the Great, who was king when Jesus was born—the Herod who ordered the killing of all the babies in and around Bethlehem when the wise men told him the Messiah had been born. 

            The son, Herod Antipas-- the Herod in today’s story-- divorced his first wife to marry Herodias, who at the time was married to his brother.  Mark calls Herod Antipas’ brother “Philip,” but the historian Josephus calls him “Herod,” which seems to be a family name.  To make things even more complicated, Herodias the daughter was also Herod Antipas’ niece.[5]

            As N.T. Wright says, if this had happened today, it would be all over the newspapers—and I think the internet and TV as well.   As Wright says, “It’s sordid, shabby and shameful—exactly the sort of thing that everybody likes to hear, however much they pretend otherwise.”[6]   You can imagine how people would react to the news of the scandalous goings-on at Herod’s birthday bash.  The lecherous Herod is so aroused by the dancing of his young step-daughter--who’s also his niece--that he promises to give her anything she wants. 

            The young girl can’t figure out what to ask for, so she leaves the banquet to ask her mother.  When she comes back, she brings her mother’s request for John’s head on a platter. 

            Mark tells us that the king was greatly distressed by this request, but he didn’t want to refuse her, out of regard to his oaths and the guests.  The guests have witnessed his oath, and he doesn’t want to lose face by reneging on his rash promise.  So, he has John executed and has his head brought in on a platter, like food for the feast.

            John, like Amos and God’s other prophets before him, spoke truth to power, at great risk to their safety.  It cost John his life.

            Mark gave all this space in his compact gospel to tell this story. So I think Jill Duffield is right that we need to sit with the ugliness and ponder where we find ourselves in the story.

            I doubt that many of us here would find ourselves identifying with Herod, or with either Herodias.

            I wonder if some might find ourselves with the guests at Herod’s party.  If you were invited, would you turn down the invitation? Even if you don’t agree with his politics or policies, he is the ruler, and it’s an honor to be invited. If you refuse to go, would Herod be insulted? What might that cost you?

            Would we have spoken up and said, “Herod, you don’t have to do what the girl is asking. You have a lot of power. You can show your strength by sticking to your principles, rather than giving in to your ego or your passions.”[7]

            That would be hard for Herod to hear.  It could cost us to speak up like that, to question Herod’s authority. 

           

            Maybe we find ourselves among the twelve disciples in the gospel story. We were sent out on a mission. Jesus told us to travel light, to teach and carry out a ministry of healing.  We’d hoped that following Jesus would lead to greatness--to power and influence. But, when we look around, it looks like the Herod--and Herodias-- are winning. They have the wealth. They call the shots. They even control the executioner.

            We’re not great people in our society. So, how can we believe that God is going to work through us to bring in God’s Kingdom?

            Jesus’ message is hard to hear, hard to believe:  God will bring the redemption of the world through the One crucified, dead, and buried. Whoever wants to save their life will lose it. But whoever loses their life for the sake of Jesus and the gospel will save it.

            The gospel demands our life, our all.  Speaking God’s truth has real life consequences.  As Jill Duffield puts it, “Engaging in God’s work of defeating evil doesn’t gain you worldly favor.  But rest assured, despite all the evidence to the contrary, God’s will and God’s Word will not be thwarted.”

            Archbishop Desmond Tutu wrote the words of a song that’s an affirmation of faith. Those of us who attend Taize probably know the words by heart, and I invite you to sing along:

Goodness is stronger than evil; love is stronger than hate. 

Light is stronger than darkness; life is stronger than death.  

Victory is ours, victory is ours,

Through God who loves us. 

            Thanks be to God!

            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

July 15, 2018

---

[1] Amos 6:4-6

[2] Amos 2:7

[3] Mark 6:6-13

[4] Mark 6:14-16

[5] New Interpreter’s Bible: Mark, Vol. VII, p 598.

[6] N.T. Wright, Mark for Everyone (Westminster John Knox Books, 2001), p. 75.

[7] Jill Duffield, ‘Looking into the Lectionary,” in The Presbyterian Outlook. https://pres-outlook.org/2018/07/8th-sunday-after-pentecost-july-15-2018/

"A Different Way", a Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Chuch on Epiphany Sunday, January 3, 2016.

The after-Christmas sales have been going on since December 26, and a lot of people in the wider society have moved past the celebrations of Christmas.
            However, the church is on a different calendar.  There are twelve days of Christmas.  So today we’re celebrating the Epiphany, which actually falls on January 6.   In Latin America and parts of the Caribbean, Three Kings Day is the big celebration of Jesus’ birth.  And in the Eastern part of the Church,  Epiphany is the important festival and celebrates the baptism of Jesus.

            In Matthew’s gospel, the Christmas birth narrative is told in the first chapter.  By the first verse of the second chapter, the shepherds are a distant memory.     When the mysterious seers from the East bring their gifts and worship, Jesus is almost two years old.   The holy family is settled in Bethlehem, raising their toddler.  

            On the road to Bethlehem are a group of MAGI--  wise men--  searching the darkness of the sky...  following a star...  hoping to find the Christ child.  They left the comfort and security of their homes to travel through the desert on their quest. 

            When they saw that the star had stopped--  they were overwhelmed with JOY!  They found the child Jesus...    and they knelt down and worshiped him.  Then they offered him their GIFTS of gold and frankincense and myrrh.

            In his story about the Magi, Matthew tells how some people responded to the birth of the Christ with joy...  and devotion.

            But woven into the story of the Magi's devotion is the story of Herod's reaction to the birth of the King of the Jews.  Herod responds by plotting to KILL him.

            Herod knew that his kingdom would be threatened by a new king.  The possibility of not being in charge of the kingdom didn't bring him joy.  He was confused...  and afraid… “and all Jerusalem with him.”  If this child was really the Messiah--  it would change everything.

            In Matthew’s telling of the Nativity story, we hear a note of fear and opposition to the Messiah’s birth.   The news of the birth of a new “king of the Jews” threatens Herod’s power and the status quo. 

            Perhaps the fear and agitation was also about how the world might be changing, that God is doing something new, and that nothing can stay the same. 

            The arrival of these three astrologers is a sign that the reach of God’s embrace is broadening…that there is no longer “insider” and “outsider,” but that all are included in God’s mercy and salvation.  This isn’t a new theme in Judaism.  But now it is happening in ways that wise ones can see it.  Who knows what could happen next?

            Do you hear the givenness of that event—the gift?   Do you hear the inclusive and universal nature of it?  What God did in and through Israel in Jesus is not only for Israel-- but for the whole world, for all people. 

            If we were listening carefully on Christmas Eve, we heard the angel say this to the shepherds:  this good news is for all people. 

            Some of us hear this as good news.  But for others, this more inclusive understanding of God’s salvation plan is troubling.  For those who are more privileged or powerful, the idea of change can cause a fearful response.   Herod had instructed the magi to come back and tell him where they’d found the Christ child.  But they’d been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, and they’d traveled back to their own country by a different way.  An angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and warned him the Herod would be searching for them and sent them to Egypt, so the Holy Family became refugees.

            Herod was so terrified of the promise that God would, in this child, restore peace and justice that he was willing to slaughter the infants of a whole region.  When he realized the magi hadn’t come back to tell him where the Christ child was, he ordered that all the children two years and under in and around Bethlehem be killed.  This reminded people of what had been written by the prophet Jeremiah:  “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children, she refused to be comforted, because they are no more.”[1]

            As David Lose suggests, such a grim account of wholesale massacre and desperate flights to safety would seem far-fetched were it not for similar atrocities and tragedies happening right now.[2]   How many Syrian refugee families have left everything behind in a desperate flight for safety?  How many children are starving to death around the world or dying of preventable illnesses?  How many families are grieving the loss of a loved one due to gun violence or warfare?  How many families are contending with their own sorrows and hardships?

            The light shines in the darkness, but there is still so much darkness in the world.   But Matthew wants us to know that in Jesus—Emmanuel—God has drawn near to us and came to live among us, full of grace and truth. 

            When life is beautiful and filled with goodness and grace, God is part of that, blessing us and celebrating with us.  When life is hard and painful and scary, God is part of that too, holding on to us, comforting us, blessing us with the promise that God will stay with us through the good and the bad, drawing us more and more deeply into God’s loving embrace…and promising that nothing—not even death—can separate us from God’s love.[3]

           

            Our scripture lessons for Epiphany are GOOD NEWS!  We hear the prophet Isaiah saying, “Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.”  No matter how dark things look to you now, look around.  You shall see and be radiant.  Your heart shall thrill and rejoice.”  

            The Gentiles from the East, these outsiders kneeling to worship the Christ child,  remind us that to worship the Christ with them is to see humanity differently, as one family of God, and that the mission of the church is to nurture, promote, work for, and celebrate the oneness of the human family—not to divide it

            Here too we can learn from the Magi and how they  responded to Christ’s birth.  The magi had to take another road home.  Not the most direct route, or the most convenient or comfortable. 

            Now that we have traveled to Bethlehem, things can be different for us. 

            I love the way Peter Gomes puts it:  “For we have come from an encounter with the world of the possible in the midst of the impossible.  We have seen God…and survived to tell the tale, moving about not knowing that our faces shine with the encounter, bearing the mark of the encounter forever, and marveling in the darkest night of the soul at that wondrous star-filled night.”

            The world will change because we are changed.  We have seen God—not high and lifted up—but lowly and vulnerable.  God with us! 

            We have seen the reality and power of love to conquer hate and violence.  We have wondered at the mystery of life and love.  We have seen the Christ child, and nothing will ever be the same.

            We are changed.  And because we are changed, the world will change, gradually, as we live out our call to carry Christ’s light out into the world...  to let the light of the gospel shine through our lives. 

            Let the light in,  live in it, and let your light shine…  That is the heart of the Christian life.

            Which brings us to this Table.  For here Christ, the Light of the World, offers himself to us in the gifts of bread and wine.  This table is open to all who have been claimed by Christ in baptism, all who come to be fed, all who desire to know the truth and power of Jesus.    

           

            So come.  Taste and see…and feast in the radiant reality of Christ our Light.  May the Light of the World not only shine on your life, but live in and be reflected in you.

            Amen!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

January 3, 2016

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[1] Jeremiah 31:15

[2] David Lose, “Matthew’s Version of the Incarnation, Part 2.  Thursday, Dec. 25, 2013, at www.workingpreacher

[3] Romans 8