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"Overwhelmed with Joy"
January 4, 2009
The Second Sunday of Christmas
St. Mark’s Episcopal Church
The Rev. George Smith
Matthew 2: 1-12
2008 was a year that many would like to forget. “Whewww…it’s
over!” was the sentiment expressed by a headline in the
Chicago Tribune. Now just four days into the New Year, this
time of an eagerly anticipated new beginning, it is likely that
either you or someone you know has looked to these first days
of January as a time to change something about yourself or something
in your life. The list of most popular resolutions will not
be a surprise to anyone: spending more time with family and
friends, exercising more, losing weight, quitting smoking, quitting
drinking, getting organized, getting out of debt, learning something
new and enjoying life more. I myself identify with at least
one of these – specifically number 6 on the list –
getting more organized. This is a perennial resolution of mine
– last year, the year before, and the one before that…but
this year IS different! I have already bought a new file folder
from Office Depot, cleaned out my briefcase and caught up on
my e-mail and in-trays. Of course, the problem is that it is
easy to be organized on January 4th – during a relatively
quiet stretch of time, few calls or meetings. We all know that
next week the dam of work and activity will burst again, and
where will my organization be on Friday? An overfilled briefcase,
cluttered e-mail and an unopened file folder from Office Depot.
So yes, I will be able share the blame of the failure of my
resolution with the world – those things beyond my control
that will inevitably happen tomorrow and the days after. But
there is also another dimension to this. As I stack and clear
away the clutter, empty space on my desk grows. How much empty
can I stand? A quarter, half, the whole desk? I think I need
to slow down on organizing. Because what will I do when everything
is organized? I might have time to pray more or God-forbid,
do nothing.
I wonder how far down on the list of most popular resolutions
is “to go to church more” or “to pray more.”
My guess is that these are not even near the top ten because
they are less tangible goals and don’t provide quick results
or benefits. Losing weight, getting organized and quitting drinking
put you in the center of the action and responsibility. They
are prospects full of excitement and promise – that you
can take control and be the master of your problems, if you
simply dedicate yourself to the task with determination and
focus. But after a few days, there are too many distractions
and problems, the reality of the pain is too great – I’ll
go for a walk another day, have that drink, leave that pile
of mail for tomorrow.
So today, I am glad that we are here, where the centerpiece
of our hour together in worship is not a resolution to do or
accomplish anything. It is a proclamation – a proclamation
of mystery, the mystery of faith – Christ has died, Christ
has risen, Christ will come again. Unlike our New Year’s
resolutions, we are not at the center of this stage of mystery.
It is God who is knowable and unknowable, made known and yet
perfectly unknown. In a time of resolutions that often fail
and disappoint, we are brought again to a place that is true
for all time, from generation to generation. And what brings
us to God’s mystery is what has always been our guide
- light – the light that is the church, the light of the
Holy Spirit, the light of our Scriptures, and as the deacon
sings at the Easter Vigil, the light of Christ.
A light guides the wise men from their country to the land
of Judea, to Jerusalem and then to Bethlehem, to Mary and the
baby. No where is God mentioned in the Gospel passage about
these first visitors to Jesus, but with the light that moves
through the sky with steadiness, patience and persistence we
know that it is of God, and echoes the first act of Creation
when God said, “Let there be light”; and there was
light. We are tied both to the beginning of all time and a new
beginning, when the light came into the world, which we continue
to be part of today. And as the past is called to the present,
the wise men foreshadow the future when they say they have come
to see the King of the Jews – and the sign that will hang
above Jesus on the cross.
Subtle in its appearance, the light that guides the wise men
is in fact disruptive and disturbing – casting light on
the political, emotional and religious darkness that it moves
to and through. The light does not sweep in like a giant meteor
to destroy King Herod, the Temple, the religious leaders and
the Roman garrison. It moves and guides, visible but out of
reach and control of those on the ground who claim power. But
the light in its modesty is a formidable sign. It challenges
the establishment and the way that things have always been done,
things that have not been done well. It reminds us that it is
Israel that was meant to be a light to the nations, but now
it is instead this light that brings the wise men to Jerusalem.
These wise men, non-Jews, Gentiles, who know nothing of the
God of Israel, the Torah, Scriptures, prophets, worship and
Temple protocol are the ones who are first on the scene –
led on a risky journey by God through mountains and desert to
see something that by all measures would be of questionable
worth to them – a Jewish king.
Here in the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel, a story which
is a fixture in every Christmas imagination and holiday decoration,
is a scene that contains the entire message and meaning of Christ,
before we know anything about Jesus, his teaching or his death
and resurrection. The light of God brings outsiders to the insiders.
In this, we see a glimpse of God’s intent and ultimate
purpose of breaking down barriers that divide and separate all
people. Moreover these particular outsiders are wealthy and
of noble standing. With apparently little or no incentive to
leave their homes and positions of privilege and comfort, they
have undertaken a journey of great risk for what purpose? They
have followed a light to surrender their power, lives and treasure
to an infant. This infant can do nothing for them – it
cannot heal, teach or bless. It can only be found. And when
it is found, they experience overwhelming joy. It will not be
until Mary Magdalene and the other Mary go to the tomb in the
dawn of the first day of the week that we hear of such joy again
– and it will be joy in the news that Jesus has been raised
from the dead. How ironic and stunning – that joy is found
ultimately in a risky journey that ends in the giving of treasures
with no expectation of reward or gain – no weight loss,
clean desk, better health or balanced lifestyle.
In times of political and economic confusion, where there is
increasing stress on families, communities and churches, we
need to be reminded of the surprising and challenging Gospel
message more than ever. I think it is understandable that many
would question the claims of Christianity and become disappointed
and disillusioned that in two thousand years nothing has really
changed. King Herod keeps reappearing wherever you look –
as a big city mayor, a state governor, leader of a nation, hedge
fund manager, or superstar preacher. Fearful of economic, environmental
and religious crises, these leaders consult the experts, our
own versions of scribes and chief priests, who comb data and
documents for answers. There are few answers and fewer honest
ones. In the light of Christ, we have hope and the assurance
that God has not abandoned us. How God works through the troubles
and challenges of our world is not often if ever clear. But
the light of Christ is not extinguished and continues to guide
us in the darkness – not as a neon spotlight, but as the
persistent, patient sign of love that leads us to the child,
where with great joy is he found.
Let us continue to make our resolutions for a new year. I will
work on my stacks of papers and books. You work on your diet
or balancing your check book. But when we fail, remember that
the light shines on the cluttered desk, the stacks of bills,
the freshly lit cigarette and the other mistakes and shortcomings
of our human lives.
Amen.
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