Feast of the Epiphany, rcl yr a, observed Sunday, December 31st, 2023
ISAIAH 60:1-6; PSALM 72:1-7, 10-14; EPHESIANS 3:1-12; MATTHEW 2:1-12
Opening their treasure chests,
they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. (Matthew 12:11)
It is likely that our tradition of Christmas gift-giving is inspired by today’s Gospel. Matthew tells us that when the star the wise men were following had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. When they entered the house and saw the child with Mary his mother, they knelt down and paid him homage, and then offered him their gifts.
Matthew’s narrative is really quite barebones in its telling, allowing us to imagine ourselves into the story. Although we have not travelled from afar and may not search the heavens for signs and wonders, we can feel the joy of the wise men, and we can identify with their impulse to kneel before the Christ Child, and honour him with gifts.
Matthew’s story of the wise men has power over us, as does Luke’s of the holy birth. Both stories capture our imagination and draw us in so deeply that even now, 2000 years later, we worship the newborn babe in ritual, in song, in telling and retelling the same old stories as if we’ve never heard them before and, like the wise ones in today’s Gospel, honour with gifts our loved ones, friends, and people in need. And that, for us, is Christmas, because the stories call to us and invite us beyond our love of self to a love for God in Christ Jesus.
But, of course, it doesn’t stop there. Jesus loves us, and his divine love, more powerful than either of the birth narratives, not only calls us out of ourselves but seeks our transformation as it is present for us, as we learn of it and experience it in the community of the faithful, by the power of the Holy Spirit. I like the notion of the Christian community, of this Christian community, being an Epiphany people – a people, a community, in which Christ is not only truly present, but revealed; that in the power of the Holy Spirit and through the means of grace we might reveal Christ for one another; that we might see Christ in one another; that we might be Christ for one another.
But it seems to me that the Feast of the Epiphany, with all its worldly nuances of Herod being threatened by the suggestion of the birth of a Messiah and the implication that the magi may, in fact, have been heads of state come to pay homage to a new and powerful king, brings a fullness to the proclamation of Christmas. Epiphany does not let us stay on Bethlehem’s hillside with the shepherds or remain as a fly on the wall of the stable fixated on Luke’s tableau of the Holy Family in the crèche. As the birth story allows us to glimpse the love of God in all its purity and innocence, so Epiphany reconnects us with the world in which we live – a world that is lightyears away from the purity and innocence of Bethlehem’s stable, but also a world in which the grace of God is present and, against all odds, can still be found and revealed.
Becoming an Epiphany people, taking our place alongside the wise ones in that house in Bethlehem is a call – a call to Jesus and his love, a call to a lifelong search for God’s grace in unlikely places and among unlikely people, and a call, it would appear, to sacrificial giving.
Christina Rossetti’s celebrated hymn, In the Bleak Midwinter, our Communion Hymn this morning, affirms our identity as an Epiphany people. She sees herself and us taking our place among the magi, kneeling before child and mother, and giving sacrificially from our wealth. The problem she recognizes, however, is that in this setting, we have no wealth. We don’t even have a lamb to offer, she notes, as the Bethlehem shepherds might have offered. We are not those shepherds, she reminds us, and we are not the magi bearing precious gifts. And so, she poses the question: if we truly are an Epiphany people, what gift out of the poverty created by time, distance, and circumstance can we give to the Christ Child? What gift do we have that will approximate the gifts Jesus has already received?
And then Christina Rosetti has an epiphany of her own. We are not as poor as we thought, she realizes. We have the gift of love, the most precious gift of all. As Epiphany people, we can give our heart to Jesus who will, in turn, bid us to give it away for the sake of others. He himself will do this, and will send us out to do the same. Such love is a costly gift because it is a gift we willingly sacrifice to help establish his reign of justice and righteousness
- in the hearts and minds of people and powers who are indifferent and unknowing,
- in societies and institutions in which abuse and violence too easily go unchecked, and
- in a world we know only too well where wealth and power are accrued and defended in order to preserve the status quo.
Epiphany, with all its worldly nuances of Herod being threatened by the suggestion of the birth of a Messiah and the implication that the magi may, in fact, have been heads of state come to pay homage to a new and powerful king, brings a fullness and a challenge to the proclamation of Christmas.
On the cover of this morning’s worship bulletin is a black and white copy of Francesco Albani’s jarring and suggestive painting of the baby Jesus sleeping, not in a cradle or even in the familiar manger full of hay, but rather on a hard wooden cross. Here we are confronted by the costliness of love, of innocence and purity meeting the harshness of the world. For the German poet and pastor Eduard Mörike, this painting could not go without comment. And for composer Hugo Wolf, Mörike’s poem could not be left unsung. Gerry King will sing Wolf’s musical setting of Mörike’s poem for us at Communion this morning after In the Bleak Midwinter.
We have a translation in our order of service of Mörike’s poem, but it is not a poetic translation. The beauty of Wolf’s music, however, needs no translation.
And so, as we gather this morning at the Table, I invite you to consider Epiphany’s contribution to the full proclamation of Christmas, to consider how we are an Epiphany people, and finally to consider the gift of costly love – God’s love for us in the gift of Christ Jesus and our gift of love for Christ and his gospel.
JFB
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.