When they saw that that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.
Later this month, you’ll have the opportunity to become an amateur star gazer for the evening. The external lighting will be turned off as Cathedral becomes home to a pop up observatory. Volunteers from our local astronomical society will be on hand to help you use telescopes to explore the night sky.For a moment, the wonder, curiosity and expertise of the magi might be ours. The depth of space, of time, of light… it is the same sky that they observed.
They watched and calculated and scrutinised not for one night, but for a lifetime. They notice some thing new. A brighter light. A comet, a supernova or a conjunction of the planets?
This cosmic sign revealed to them the birth of the one who is the morning star: the splendour of light eternal and sun of righteousness; the love that said ‘let there be light’ is the love birthed in a stable; the love that is all in all, rest in a mother's arms, turning a house into hallowed ground.
The light has come - our light has come - in the midst of darkness: the darkness of the shadow of death, the darkness covering the earth, the thick darkness over the peoples.
This light dawns in the midst of political crisis and the brutal reality of human violence. Jesus’ birth takes place in time. In the time of King Herod. In the time of occupation, empire, threat and displacement; in the time when ruling by fear reveals fragility and creates instability.
It is in a world such as this that Herod finds himself acting as a catalyst. Those who’ve been guided by hope need help. In their desire to worship a new born king, magi come to a palace, to the place we think power resides. In his desire to retain control of his own kingship, Herod consults experts and points the mysterious strangers beyond the stars to a a place. To a place where the child was.
When they saw that that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.
Stefan Lochner, Adoration of the Magi, c. 1440, Cathedral, Cologne
This light dawns in the midst of political crisis and the brutal reality of human violence. Jesus’ birth in time, is the still point in a transforms the world for all time. In our time, with its violence, instability and displacement of people; in our time, God continues to reveal to us his patient and loving response to our impatience and fear.
And it looks like a child with his mother. This is God with us. In the midst of us.
And we pay him homage: this child calls forth joy, yes; but as God’s very self, this child causes us to kneel and to worship.
And treasure-chests are opened.
Gold is offered a sign of Jesus’ kingship, yes; but also placing all of our resources as the disposal of a different kingdom; a setting aside of our desire to control and embracing instead love.
Frankincense is offered as a sign of Jesus’ divinity, yes; an act of putting first the call to prayer and worship; a placing at the heart of our lives the deep attentiveness to God.
Myrrh is offered as a sign of Jesus’ reconciling the world, yes; and this healing means confronting pain, sorrow and despair; here, we glimpse cross, death and resurrection.
The light has come. It shines in darkness. The darkness does not overcome it.
The wise men’s journey continues on another road: they go, resisting fear and abuse of power; they return, witnesses to love, light and glory.
The Christ child’s journey continues on another road: he goes with Mary and Joseph, and seeks refuge in another land; he will return, to set us free, revealing God’s love, light and glory.
King Herod’s journey continues on yet another road: his fear turns to fury, fury to violence; his violence becomes lamentation and death.
And yet, love wins. Still the light shines. In our world.
It is not overcome. It reveals truth to us. We have to decide.
When they saw that that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.
We need to take heart from the diligence and joy of the wise; but perhaps we need to embrace their courage too. For their quest throws up the deepest questions of identity: of who we are, who this child is and how we are to live in the world.
Day by day, we pray that the Holy Spirit might kindle in us the desire to seek and to find; to worship and to rejoice. In the light of the Christ child, not only do we see but we become radiant; our hearts over flow. In the light of the Christ child, we experience something of God’s grace. The outworking of that grace is challenging; our imaginations our stretched, we live differently embodying God's wisdom in whatever we're doing this time tomorrow.
Such grace is, in the words of Rowan Williams, ‘the mysterious capacity to look in the face the destructive effects of human ignorance’. In saying this, he was reflecting on Shakespeare’s improvisation on the revelation which we celebrate this Epiphany; it’s a reflection on grace in Twelfth Night.
In a play which hovers between comedy and tragedy, we see the a journey of attentiveness and courage; an emotional journey of learning to make acquaintance with storms in order to love.
Shakespeare places us in the tumult of a ship wreck - drawing us into the lives of a rescued twin and a lost brother. He confronts us with the chaos of misrule, the delusion of self love, the cruelty of mockery; intoxicating passions and suffocating grief are played out in a whirlwind of mistaken identities.
The person who knowingly puts on a disguise, is the one person who effectively navigates the complex pathways of love. Viola’s is a love that serves and attends to the other; it is a love which is vulnerable and resilient; a love which is rooted in the assurance of faith and hope; a love which is neither defensive nor manipulative, but utterly authentic. Her maturity brings life, healing; it enables other to let go of their delusions and to interact more truthfully.
The resulting epiphany is of restored relationship as Sebastian looks on his disguised sister and says: Of charity, what kin are you to me?
What countryman? What name? What parentage?
The revelation we glimpse today answers those same questions too: the mystery of Christ which has been revealed is about our kinship. Because he is God with us - living, dying and rising for us - we are children of God. As Paul puts it, we, the Gentiles, have become fellow-heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.
If we are to seek wisdom like the magi and to love like Viola, we do so by entering into a drama which reveals our identity as members of Christ’s body.
The drama we enact today, names the shipwrecks and storms of our human condition: in the Eucharist, our fears, frustrations and desires, our griefs, betrayals and hopes are expressed.
The drama we enact today, names the patient and generous love of God which continues to reach out to us: in the Eucharist, we touch and taste and see grace that does not look away, light that continues to shine, hope that dispels fear and love that increases our capacity to love.
When they saw that that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.
Our journey continues on another road: step by step, may the Spirit equip us to witness with boldness to the love of God, revealed in Jesus Christ.
Julie Gittoes © 2017
