J. Paul Mullen

Scarboro United Church

Calgary, Alberta

January 4, 2009

“The Mystery Made Known”

The odd thing about New Year’s Day is that, arising out of all the hoopla of the night before, emerging through the hangovers and New Year’s dinners, is the death of Christmas. The wrappings are trashed, the gifts put away or returned, the ornaments re-packed, the tree is put away or hauled away. The manger scene, the Crèche, the Nativity no longer decorates our lawns or our mantles or our knick-knack shelf. Baby Jesus is safely wrapped up and hidden away until next year.

Or is Christmas still two days away in your heritage and tradition? If so, Merry Christmas!

But alas, even for you, in a few days it will be the same. Christmas dies its annual death and we are left to cope alone, propped up by the firm resolve of our resolutions. And we all know how long they last.

What do we do with Christmas now that it is gone? When it is all wrapped up and put away? When it has died its annual death?

Some Christians, present company included I hope, and their churches are crazy enough to think that the story is not over. That somehow Christmas is a beginning and not an end. That Baby Jesus somehow escapes not just from the manger and stable but from the soft wrappings and secure box in which he was hidden away. These Christians are insane enough to believe that Baby Jesus doesn’t just escape from this carefully constructed tomb, he has the audacity to grow up, to become something, to make a name for himself, to die for God’s sake (literally), and to rise to even greater heights that anyone could or can imagine!

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These worrisome Christians and their churches, of all things, continue to take Jesus seriously (if not always literally) and have created another whole season just to look at exactly who he was and what he is all about. And to underline just how nuts these strange Christians and their churches are they call this special season “Epiphany!”

Who on earth knows what “Epiphany” means let alone how to say it?

Now just in case you are wondering, I can tell you that an epiphany is not a thing, it is an experience. Have you ever had someone tell you something you thought was serious and then suddenly you realized that it was a joke? That realization is an epiphany. You think something means one thing then a light goes on in your head or in your heart and you know there is more there than meets the eye or the ear or the brain.

The star is the symbol of Epiphany because of the one that led the Magi to Jesus and the Magi were the first non-Jewish people to recognize that this baby was more than just another mouth to feed. They knew this particular, peculiar star meant so much more than just another light in the sky. It meant something. They became so convinced of this that they packed up and went on a dangerous journey (as all journeys were dangerous in those days). They brought weird gifts for a baby -  not a single rattle or layette -  gifts that meant more than most would think. Gold, frankincense and myrrh – strange  stuff for an equally strange child. They didn’t become Christians, as we might like to think, but they did go home a different way. I like to think they went home as different people and home was never the same again.

That is what Christmas should be if it is worth celebrating at all! Christmas, when fully experienced in the light, not just of the star but of the whole life, teachings and wonders, death and resurrection of Jesus, should make us different. It should make our lives different. If it doesn’t then to hell with it. It is not really worth the bother. Although I do agree with William Barclay (in Daily Celebration, Christianity Today, Vol. 38, no. 14.) when he writes of the commercialization of Christmas, As the result of commercialism is no worse than to make a husband give a gift to his wife, and a father a gift to his child, and to enable us all to be extravagantly generous for once, then there could be much worse things.”

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In her poem “StarGiving”, Ann Weems speaks of the kind of Christmas that makes a difference and the kind of star that can be an epiphany:

What I’d really like to give you for Christmas

is a star . . .

Brilliance in a package,

something you could keep in the pocket of your jeans

or in the pocket of your being.

Something to take out in times of darkness,

something that would never snuff out or tarnish,

something you could hold in your hand,

something for wonderment,

something for pondering,

something that would remind you of

what Christmas has always meant:

God’s Advent Light into the darkness of this world.

But stars are only God’s for giving,

and I must be content to give you words and wishes and

packages without stars.

But I can wish you life

as radiant as the Star

that announced the Christ Child’s coming,

and as filled with awe as the shepherds who stood beneath its light.

And I can pass on to you the love

that has been given to me,

ignited countless times by others

who have knelt in Bethlehem’s light.

Perhaps, if you ask, God will give you a star.

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One way to get a handle on whether Christmas has made a difference in our lives and in the life of the church is to listen to poets. One that can grate on our sensibilities is a contemporary British poet by the name of Steve Turner. He can grate like nails on a blackboard because he nails the way we, even as good church people, want to avoid a real encounter with this man, Jesus. He writes:

If Jesus was born today

it would be in a downtown motel

marked by a helicopter's flashing bulb.

A traffic warden, working late,

would be the first upon the scene.

Later, at the expense of a TV network,

an eminent sociologist,

the host of a chat show

and a controversial author

would arrive with their good wishes

the whole occasion to be filmed as part of the

'Is This The Son Of God?' one-hour special.

Childhood would be a blur of photographs and speculation

dwindling by his late teens into

'Where Is He Now?' features in Sunday magazines.

If Jesus was thirty today

they wouldn't really care about the public ministry,

they'd be too busy investigating His finances

and trying to prove He had Church or Mafia connections.

The miracles would be explained by

an eminent and controversial magician,

His claims to be God's Son recognised as

excellent examples of Spoken English

and immediately incorporated into

the [high school] syllabus,

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His sinless perfection considered by moral philosophers

as, OK, but a bit repressive.

If Jesus was thirtyone today

He'd be the fly in everyone's ointment

the sort of controversial person who

stands no chance of eminence.

Communists would expel Him, capitalists

would exploit Him or have Him

smeared by people who know a thing or two about God.

Doctors would accuse Him of quackery,

soldiers would accuse Him of cowardice,

theologians would take Him aside and try

to persuade Him of His nonexistence.

If Jesus was thirtytwo today we'd have to

end it all. Heretic, fundamentalist, literalist,

puritan, pacifist, nonconformist, we'd take Him

away and quietly end the argument.

But the argument would rumble in the ground

at the end of three days and would break out

and walk around as though death was some bug,

saying 'I am the resurrection and the life...

No man cometh to the Father but by me'.

While the magicians researched new explanations

and the semanticists wondered exactly what

He meant by 'I' and 'No man' there would be those

who stand around amused, asking for something

called proof.

                                                           (2002 rejesus ltd)

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During the season of Epiphany, from now until Lent begins in late February, we look for the presence of the Divine in events like Jesus’ Baptism and the signs and wonders he performed. May we once again realize that Jesus was as close to God as we will ever know a human being and have our lives profoundly disturbed, deeply transformed.

There is another aspect to Epiphany which we resist, yet which has the power to transform the world and lead us to live peacefully with one another. It is the fact that the Wise Men, the Magi were not likely Jewish as Jesus was. They were from another faith, Zoroastrian, perhaps. Being magicians some of their practices were soundly condemned by the Bible of the day. And yet they came and worshipped. They pointed the world to the wonder of the Christ Child and they acted to spare his life by risking their own.

Geoff Anderson, an Anglican priest in England, writes:

“This is a cause for true rejoicing and celebration. There is no suggestion that the three kings forsook their own religions or nationalities. The feast of the Epiphany, then, can be seen not as a celebration of the conversion of the world to Christianity, but rather as a celebration that God is the God of all - Jews and Gentiles; that he will accept what we all have to offer, prayers for peace, for example, from Christian and Muslim alike.

God in Christ accepts people as they are, with whatever gifts they can offer him. He is the God of all nations of the world. So there can be no place in the Christian scheme of things for racial prejudice or for contempt toward people of a different religious faith.”

When we take seriously the rest of the Christ Story we can be overwhelmed by yet another Epiphany. The world is full of lost and lonely people swamped in a tide of alienation and despair. Reconnecting with God and becoming aware of the esteem God holds for them is essential and life- giving. The star of Epiphany calls us to minister to them, reaching out on God’s behalf and sharing with them our own story. The story of what Christ has done in our lives.

Amen