Sermon on Temptation

The Rev. Dr. Leah D. Schade

United in Christ Lutheran Church, Lewisburg, PA

Texts: Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7; Matthew 4:1-11

First Sunday in Lent; March 9, 2014

Our cars pulled into the gravel parking lot facing the brick building across the street.  All around us were signs of a city that had fallen on hard times.  Buildings with shattered, darkened windows like black eyes looking out on a desolate, concrete world. Candy wrappers, Dorito bags, and all kinds of discarded trash skittered along the sidewalk whenever a car sped by.  We hurried across the street and into the building – City Team Ministries in Chester, PA, just south of Philadelphia. 

Seven confirmation students, a few parents and I were there to learn about the work of this Christian-based haven for homeless and drug-addicted men.  Every evening City Team opens its doors to the community and serves a meal cooked up by the men with the assistance of volunteers from local churches.  The church I served at that time sent volunteers every fourth Monday of the month to conduct the worship service that preceded the meal, and to help serve those who came in need of good, hot food, a safe place to gather, and clothes or shoes for themselves and their families.  Once a year I would bring the Confirmation students and their parents to this place to help with the service and meal, tour the facility, and hear first-hand from men who battled the demons and temptations of addiction.

After serving the meal, we sat down in one of the common rooms with a man we’ll call Brian.  He was clean-cut, handsome, and looked not much older than the teens sitting uncomfortably in the plastic chairs around the table.  He did not look like a typical drug-addict.  But then he told us his story.

“At first I started using because I thought it would be fun. I was hangin’ out with my friends, and that’s what we did, you know?  I really didn’t think anything about it.  I thought I was strong enough to handle anything.  But I really had no idea, you know? That feeling it gives you, it takes hold of you and it’s all you can think about.  It just controlled everything about me.  It was everything I thought about, drove every action I took.

 

“I had so much going for me.  I came from a good family.  People liked me and I did well in school. But I knew how to get money.  And I knew how to make people believe things about me so that I could cover up what I was doing.  I thought I was so smart, you know?  But the demon – that’s what I call him – the demon is smarter than me.  I started stealing, selling bags to kids like you, getting mixed up with some seriously dangerous cats.  Eventually I got into some real trouble.

“My parents tried to send me to rehab a couple times.  I really blew it.  Every time.  And I ended up in prison for a time.  Eventually they just cut me off.  I was really mad at first, but I’m not anymore.  What I do – it’s not their fault.  I have to battle this demon on my own.”

But then he stopped and shook his head.  “No, see, I have to stop saying that.  That’s the kind of thinking that got me in trouble in the first place.  I can’t do this on my own.  I need help.  And not just human help.  I need God.  I need the power of Jesus in my life.  That’s one thing I learned in here,” he said waving to the walls hung with posters inscribed with Bible verses and inspirational words scripted on pictures of beautiful landscapes. 

“You know that story about Adam and Eve in the garden and the forbidden fruit?” he asked the students.  They nodded their heads, hanging on his every word.  “When that serpent came and tempted them, did they ask God about what the serpent was saying?  Did they seek God’s guidance?  No, they thought they could handle the fruit on their own.  Drugs are like that fruit.  Or anything you can get addicted to – alcohol, gambling, pornography, you name it.  You take one bite and your eyes are opened, alright.  You feel awesome at first, but then it leaves you feeling like hell.  And you keep coming back to the tree wanting another first bite. But it turns out that the serpent bites you every time, sucks the life right out of you like a vampire.”

He shook his head and looked down at his hands.  “They never even thought to go to God.  They never turn to him.  So he has to go to them.  And they’re so messed up by the time God finds them, they can’t even stay in the Garden anymore.  That’s what happened to me.  I know I can’t ever go back to the life I had before I started using.”

Then I asked Brian a question.  “So why is City Team different than the other places you’ve been to try to get clean?”

“Well,” he said, “first, I thought it was going to be easy, because, you know, church people and all.  But they are really strict here, very disciplined.  But more than that, what’s different here is that they really ground you in the Word of God and serving the community.  They teach us to read the Bible, and to turn to God when we’re feeling that temptation pulling on us.”

“Brian, can I just challenge you about that a minute?” I asked him.  “Because kids sometimes think that the Bible is just a bunch of words.” I picked up one setting on the table.  “How can reading these words really help with addiction?”

“Yeah, I used to think that, too,” he admitted.  “But, again, you can’t just do it alone.  You have to ask for God’s guidance, and ask other people to help you understand what these words mean.  And what I found is that there is something very powerful in here.  The Bible is like an anchor for me when I feel my head getting whipped around.  Or like a flashlight when I’m in a dark place. 

“See, before, when I tried to stop using, I didn’t have anything to fill the hole.  I’d be good for a while, but there was always something missing.  And when things started to get to me, when I got stressed, where did I turn?  Back to the drugs.  But that serpent – he doesn’t care a thing about me.  That demon only wants to drain me dry.  But God loves me and wants to give me life.”

I asked Brian if he had some favorite Bible verses or stories.  He named John 3:16, of course, and Psalm 23.  But then he talked about the passage recounting Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness. 

“See, Jesus says right there – you can’t live on bread alone.  You have to have God’s Word.  That’s what really gives life.  And when the devil takes Jesus up to the pinnacle, that’s the way it feels when you’re about to get high.  You think nothing can touch you, and that rush when you fall into it, man . . .

“But see with drugs, it starts out easy and good, but then it gets hard and bad.  With God, it’s just the opposite.  It starts out hard and it’s not easy at all.  You’re in that wilderness for a long time. But when you get on the other side, just like with Jesus, angels are waiting for you.”

Brian then told us how long he had been clean, to the exact day, and how much he looked forward to graduating from the program.  City Team had helped him to get a job, gave him a place to go every night, required him to attend Bible studies, serve the community meal, and sort through the donations that came to the facility.  “This place saved my life,” he said.  “I know it’s not going to be easy.  But I have the power of Jesus. He battled the demons of temptation, and he won.  That’s the power I want in my life.”

The Confirmation students thanked him for talking with them.  For most of them, it was the first time they had met someone who so fiercely battled the temptation of drugs.  Certainly, Brian’s story served as a cautionary tale for them.  But more importantly, I wanted them to hear what a difference faith and God’s Word could make in a person’s life.

Maybe you have stood in the same places as Brian.  At the tree, reaching for that fruit that promises so much, but delivers only the bite of the serpent.  On the pinnacle, tempted to throw yourself into the thrill of danger.  Or maybe you have loved someone who has given in to the temptation of the demon, watched them hurl themselves into that void. And somehow you end up crashing right along with them, or suffering the wounds from that deadly serpent.

This might be a good time for you to enter the wilderness with Jesus, and let him teach you and guide you and strengthen you as you begin a new journey with him.  We’re not surrounded by a gritty urban landscape here.  But there are just as many people struggling with temptation here in the bucolic central Susquehanna Valley as there are in the blighted city of Chester.  

And this place, United in Christ Lutheran, this little brick church surrounded by fields and farms, can offer a haven where you can worship God, take part in a prayer session or Bible study to help ground you in the Word of God, and draw you closer to Jesus. 

This is a safe place to gather, to share a meal, to serve the community, to surround yourself with people who remind you that you don’t have to be perfect, and you don’t have to do it alone.  That, in fact, you can’t face those demons all by yourself.  You need help.  You need others, and you need the God who loves you and will keep coming to find you, no matter how much you’ve messed up your life.

But understand that the journey will start out hard and it won’t be easy at all.  We’ll be in this wilderness for a long time. But when you get on the other side, just like with Jesus, angels are waiting for you. You have the power of the one who battled the demons of temptation, and he won.  That’s the power we want in this life. Amen.

Ash Wednesday Sermon: “Marked”

The Rev. Dr. Leah Schade

United in Christ Lutheran Church, Lewisburg, PA

March 5, 2014

We’ve had a total of four baptisms in the last two weeks, and celebrated First Communion with two of our youngsters.  As part of their learning, we read a story called The Welcome Table (Katherine S. Miller, Augsburg Fortress, 1994) about a young girl preparing for her first communion.  She recalls the day she was baptized, and the pastor making the sign of the cross on her forehead.  “Even though you can’t see the cross, it will always be there,” the pastor assures her.  One time when I read this book to a group of students, one of them piped up:  It’s like an invisible tattoo!

This evening the cross made on your forehead when you were baptized is now clearly visible for all to see.  It gives new meaning to the words we say at every baptism, “You have been marked with the cross of Christ and sealed with the Holy Spirit forever.”  What does it mean to be marked?  It’s like we’re being branded, at least for this evening, with a temporary tattoo. 

Why do people get tattoos?  Some people put symbols on their skin that are meaningful for them.  Others put the name of a loved one permanently on their body.  For many people, it is the artwork of ink on flesh and the myriad of designs and colors that fascinates them.  The art moves and shifts as the body stretches and moves.

 

But of course there is a great deal of pain that goes into the art of tattoos.  Devon Kemper has shared with me many tales of the pain he has endured, and the extent to which he goes to minimize pain and infection for others whom he tattoos.  But the permanence of the marking points to a willingness to commit oneself to an image, a symbol, an idea, a person.

My grandfather was in the Pennsylvania National Guard and was one of the only people I knew growing up who had a tattoo.  It was the shape of Keystone.  As he aged and his skin wrinkled, the words inside the keystone and edges of the design faded and became muted, till there was not much left but a bluish blob.  But it was a sign for him that he belonged to something larger than himself, and that this group of soldiers in this state within this country could claim him as their own. It was a sign of his identity, his community, the solidarity he shared with others who bore that same mark.

Many years ago I was looking through some tattoo magazines to find images of people who mark themselves with actual crosses or other religious symbols to show to my Confirmation students. I was stunned to come across this image of an old woman in Bosnia with a cross tattooed on her forehead.

  I learned from the article that Catholic women in this area did tattoos the old fashioned way using sewing needles and a mixture of mother’s milk, honey, spit and water with ash scraped from a pot.  The author described his trek to find these women:

“It took a few hours of driving around the countryside in a hired taxi before I could set my eyes on the first traditionally dressed old woman with the bluish designs on her hands, faded from decades of working in the fields under the scorching sun.  She was really shy about showing her tattoos at first.  No surprise considering that only a few years ago identification with a specific religion often made the difference between life and death here,” ("Catholic Tattoos in Bosnia," Travelin’ Mick, Skin and Ink, March 2001, 26).

Many decades ago young girls between the ages of six and sixteen would tattoo themselves once a year after attending church on St. Stephen’s Day (March 19).  “All the tattoos were placed in clearly visible spots and were seen as a sign of beauty.  

Under Turkish rule in Bosnia, the cross tattoos served to prevent the girls from being kidnapped and sold into slavery, because a Muslim wouldn’t touch a tattooed girl.  If you compare the Bosnian tattoos with the ones you can still find among the [Coptic Christians] in Egypt, you also find similarities.  In both countries a minority of Christians in a Muslim-dominated area mark themselves with a cross tattoo in a place where everybody can see it as a sign of their common identity.” (Ibid, 28).

I remember the first time I went forward to receive the ashen cross on my forehead as child.  I felt embarrassed to have the t-shaped smudge on my forehead, worrying what people would think about me. Reading this story and seeing these images of the women gave me a new perspective on what it means to be marked as a Christian.  Especially on this one day of the year, we deliberately participate in this ritual of smearing ashes left from the burning of last year’s palms across our foreheads.

Covering oneself with ashes and putting on sackcloth was a sign of mourning and repentance in the Old Testament.  It was a visible reminder of the impermanence of life and one’s willingness to turn away from sin, burning it away and coming before God with just yourself – no luxuries, no illusions.  As we begin the 40-day journey of Lent, we are symbolically doing the same thing today.  We may not be wearing burlap bags, but the ashes on our foreheads reminds us that our bodies come from the basic elements of earth, and when we die, we will return to that state.

This can be a very sad service for some people.  Seventeen years ago I attended an Ash Wednesday service when I was still a student at seminary.  My grandfather had died just a few months earlier, and I was missing him very much.  I sat in the pew watching every person go forward to hear the same words: “Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  I was crying as I went forward to receive my ashes.  A few flakes fell from the cross into my eyelashes, mixing with my tears.  I walked back to the pew, just sobbing. 

But when I sat down all my friends gathered close and put their arms around me, comforting me in my grief.  And while I was filled with sadness, I knew I was marked with a symbol that means I belong to something larger than myself, and that this group of Christians could claim me as their own.  And that Christ, himself marked across his entire body with the sign of his commitment to God, had claimed me and my grandfather, and all those who have died, as his own.  And we know that this symbol of death is actually the gateway to life – a resurrected life in Christ Jesus.

We were all marked with the cross. The same one that had marked my grandfather when he was baptized is the same one that marked me as an infant, and marks me again this evening.  

This cross, no matter how temporary tonight, traces invisible lines that are more important than any tattoo.  I don’t feel embarrassed to walk out of the church with the cross on my forehead anymore.  I am marked - we are marked - with the cross of Christ forever. Amen.

"The Need for Sustainability" - Repost of Blog by Iris Bloom of Protecting Our Waters

My good friend and sister-in-solidarity Iris Bloom of Protecting Our Waters has written this piece connecting the dots between the recent string of oil-and-gas accidents, shareholder capitalism, and the need to transition to nonfossil fuels.  Her analysis helps us see the deeper meaning of these seemingly disparate events and is beautifully written, concise, and compelling.  Iris has the long-view in mind here, and I encourage wide sharing of her post.

http://protectingourwaters.wordpress.com/2014/01/27/natural-gas-pipeline-lights-up-the-night-sky-illuminates-need-for-sustainability/

A Sermon on the Sacrament of Holy Communion

The Rev. Dr. Leah Schade

January 19, 2014

Text:  John 1:29-42

[This sermon was part of Teaching Liturgy Sunday, Part Two, which focused on The Meal within the Gathering-Word-Meal-Sending order of Lutheran worship.]

“What are you looking for?” “Where are you staying?”     “Come and see.”

That exchange between the disciples and Jesus gives us a helpful framework for understanding why we worship, why we do what we do in worship, and what we can expect to encounter in worship.

Jesus asks: “What are you looking for?”      

The disciples respond with another question: “Where are you staying?”

Jesus responds: “Come and see.”

What are you looking for when you come to church?  There are probably as many different answers to that as there are people here.  Some of you are here because you enjoy the people who gather in the church.  You’ve known them for many years, perhaps all your life.  They are your friends and family, and gathering here at church is part of what makes up your relationship with them.  Your friendship and family-ship is fed by the faith you share.  And your faith is fed by the friendship and family-ships you experience in this place.

Some of you are here out of habit.  It’s just what you do.  You were raised going to church, it’s part of your routine, and you can’t imagine your life without it.

Still others are here because their parents or spouse dragged them out of bed this morning.  They like it once they’re here, but getting them here can be a struggle.

I’ve even heard people in this church - including young people – say they come here because it’s fun!  They like to sing the hymns.  They enjoy the fellowship hour.  They like the activities we do in youth group, the suppers, the way we reach out to the community, the way we help people.  They like the way we can laugh together, and how we can comfort each other when we cry.

What are you looking for?  Whether you are conscious of it or not, whether you admit it to yourself or not, on some level, in some way you are looking to encounter God.  All of those other reasons for being here are true and real and mostly good.  But on a deeper level, the deepest level, every human being at some time in their life longs to connect with the holy mystery of the sacred.  Call it what you will – the Divine, the Force, Jesus Christ, the Holy Trinity, the Creator – that awesome power that is beyond our understanding longs to connect with you, too.  You are looking for God.  God is looking for you.

“Where are you staying?” the disciples wanted to know.  They wanted to know where they could locate Jesus.  They wanted to know his dwelling place, where he resides.  They wanted an address and GPS coordinate.  They knew they were looking for the Holy One of God.  They knew they had found him.  Now they wanted to know where he lived so that they could have access to him, have a reliable place to find him.

Where do you find God?  Human beings can encounter that Divine Presence anytime and anywhere it chooses to manifest itself to us.  It may be at a holy site, in the darkness through a dream, in the birth of a child, in the physical embrace of two people, or standing atop a mountain or alongside the endlessly churning waves on the beach.  But here in this place of gathered people around the font and the table is the one place we can be sure to find God.  Why is that?  Because Jesus has promised to be here in these sacraments of baptism and Holy Communion.  And God always keeps God’s promises.

This is not to say that you are going to have an earth-shattering, mind-blowing lighting strike of God’s presence every time you come to church or hold your hand out for the bread and wine.  It doesn’t work like that.  And if it did, it wouldn’t actually be a sacrament.  It would be like an addictive drug that promises this super-sensory explosion of mind and body, but leaves you ravaged by its power.  And all you would want to do is get another hit of this God-drug.  You wouldn’t be free to go out into the world and live your life.

So that’s not how the sacraments work.  Instead, it’s like the steady, slow work of nurturing your mind, body and spirit over a lifetime.  Remember last week when I said that good preaching is like eating a good meal because it feeds you and keeps you strengthened for the long haul?  Well, communion is the actual meal.  It is God’s Word that you can see, taste, smell, hear, touch.

“Come and see,” is what Jesus said to the disciples.  He bids them to follow him and experience the life of being a disciple in the world for themselves.  Certainly they witness earth-shattering, mind-blowing instances of Jesus’ power and miracles.  But Jesus knew that if they only focused on getting their “Jesus-high,” they would not be free to go out into the world and live their lives, doing the work he was equipping them to do.  So the sacraments of baptism and communion are the gifts of his presence that he gave in order to initiate us into this new life, and then to sustain us as we walk this walk together, build this kingdom together.

When you receive communion, you are literally “together with” Jesus.  That’s what communion means – “com” = with; “union” = joined or together.  You are together with Jesus in this sacrament because he promised to be here.  We don’t claim to know exactly how this happens.  As Lutherans, we are content to live with the mystery and trust in the promise. 

In addition to being together with Jesus, we are together with all the other Christians who gather around the table, both in this church, and in all churches around the world, with our homebound members who receive it at their bedside, with hospice patients who receive that small bite of bread and that small sip of juice as one of their “last suppers.”  Not only that, we are together with every Christian who has ever taken communion in the past – all the saints who came before us and now feast with God in heaven.  Not only that, we are together with every Christian who has not even been born yet who will take communion in the future.

When you come up and receive this “foretaste of the feast to come,” you are taking place in what’s called a “kairos” moment – a timeless, eternal moment that connects people across time and space.  When you think about it, it really is a mind-blowing, earth-shattering!

But I have to admit, when I take communion, I’m not always thinking so big and deep.  Often I’m just hearing the words “for you.”  And as much as I want to be selfless and connected with the universe and all of space and time, because I am a human being, it often just comes down to little ole me.  And sometimes I gasp thinking that all of this timelessness and spaceless-ness is concentrated in one little morsel, one small sip – for me.

What are you looking for?  We’re looking for God.  Where can we find God?  Come and see.  Amen.

A Sermon About Preaching

A Sermon on Preaching

The Rev. Dr. Leah Schade

January 12, 2014

Text:  John 1:1-18

[This sermon was part of Teaching Liturgy Sunday, Part One, which focused on The Word within the Gathering-Word-Meal-Sending order of Lutheran worship.  The video of the sermon can be found here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s44FIAoeXuA&feature=share]

Remember that sermon you heard one time that touched your heart so deeply, you felt that the pastor was talking directly to you?

Or how about the time when you heard a pastor preach and you felt your mind open in a way that freed you to think differently.  It just changed your whole perspective on things.

Do you know what was happening in those sermons?  God was communicating with you.  God was talking to you, working on you, inviting you into a new way of feeling, thinking, and acting.  Isn’t it amazing that God uses ordinary human words - ordinary human beings – to speak to us?

When we talk about “The Word of God,” preaching is part of that. The Word of God is a multivalent phrase, which means that it points to many different things.  For one, it means the actual “word” that God spoke in the beginning.  As we read in the first two verses of John’s Gospel, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.”  Thus “the Word of God” is also Christ, the Word incarnate, made flesh among us.  And more, “the Word” is also Scripture.  We proclaim that in and through these words in the Bible inspired by the work of the Holy Spirit and written by humans, as imperfect as they are, we can encounter God. 

Preaching, too, can be a means by which you encounter God.  In the preaching event we see all aspects of the Word come together.  God’s Word in Scripture is incarnated once again in the interpretation of the preacher and in his or her relationship with the congregation, which is yet another manifestation of the Spirit of Christ.  You and I are God’s Word, because we were spoken into existence as a Christian community by the words of Baptism and Holy Communion.  And when we gather around the font and table, and around words of Scripture, two things happen.  We read them, but they also read us.  They shape us as individuals and as a gathered people of God.

These Words in the Bible are not dead words of ancient times that have no meaning today.  This is not a museum book.  It is meant to be the living Word of God.  And it is through the ongoing, fresh and contemporary work of preaching that the Word comes alive in the speaking and the hearing. 

Good preaching should feel like a good meal, like you’ve been fed.  It should nourish your soul and your mind and your heart in some way.  Sometimes in a sermon you’ll be offered a taste of something you’ve never tried before, or something that is a little hard to chew.  You’ll need to trust that the preacher has the best intentions and your best interests at heart.  And good preaching over a period of time should offer a Word from God on many different topics, Bible passages, and theological themes.  Not every sermon is going to be a gourmet meal, or a bowl of your favorite ice cream.  But if it’s nourishing and has at least a little good flavoring, it will do wonders for your appetite for God’s Word. 

As one churchgoer said to another, “I may not remember every meal my spouse made over the years.  But I know I was fed nourishing food that sustained me day to day.  In the same way, I may not remember every sermon in detail.  But I know I was fed on the nourishing Word of God that sustained me week to week.”

Over time, a preacher develops a relationship with his or her parishioners that should help them develop their relationship with God.   Sometimes God’s Word, spoken by and through the preacher, will make your squirm by holding a mirror up to you and our world to show you how things really are.  That’s what Luther called “Law.”  But ultimately the purpose of preaching is to proclaim God’s presence, the grace of Jesus Christ, and the power of the Holy Spirit working in our midst.  You should hear Good News in just about every sermon.  That’s called “Gospel.”

Homilitician John McClure says that in the preacher’s proclamation of grace “God's will and power are identified not with what  . . .  is but with what will be.” [1]  This means that preaching engenders hope and cultivates faith, which is trust in God.  God’s Word in and through preaching helps us to imagine a new future and gives us the means and motivation to live as if that future is already happening now. As McClure says, “Anticipation of a new future grounded in faith in God conditions and motivates life.  The Christian life is one of hope, consciousness-raising, learning from and suffering with the oppressed . . . , hope for and involvement in the work of social transformation, and joy in the present, rooted in faith's hope for and vision of the future." [2]

That future has already been started in the cross and resurrection of Jesus.  It is the promise of the resurrection that gives us the commission and power to preach.  “Go and make disciples,” says Jesus.  “Feed my sheep,” says Jesus.  “I am sending you,” says Jesus.

Come to God’s Word.  Be fed with God’s Word.  Be filled with hope and faith in God’s Word.  And be sent with God’s Word, the light of the world.  Amen.

McClure, John S. Other-Wise Preaching:  A Postmodern Ethic for Homiletics. St. Louis, MI: Chalice Press, 2001.

---

[1] John S. McClure, Other-Wise Preaching:  A Postmodern Ethic for Homiletics (St. Louis, MI: Chalice Press, 2001), 137.

[2] Ibid., 137.

Epiphany Sermon: Star Light, Star Bright

Sermon – The Rev. Dr. Leah D. Schade, PhD

Epiphany Sunday, Jan. 5, 2014

United in Christ Lutheran Church, Lewisburg, PA

Watch the video of this sermon here:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SNf76TTyi10

Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight . . . I wish I may I wish I might have this wish I wish tonight.

There’s something about stars that have captured the imagination of human beings from the time they gathered around ancient fires, watching the sparks fly up into the darkened sky. 

Long before there were Kindles and iPods, televisions and movies, or electric lights of any kind to illuminate our nights, the stars were the only companions to humankind once the sun went down.  And so they would watch those tiny pinpricks of light, looking at them night after night, observing how they would seem to move slowly across the sky.  Soon they were seeing images in the sky, the stars becoming points in connect-the-dots pictures of great warriors, animals, gods and goddesses. After gazing at the night sky in and out of seasons, these early astronomers began to recognize patterns of movement, predicting the location of the stars according to the time of year.  They learned they could guide the direction of their travels by coordinating them with the stars.

They began to give names to the lights that were most prominent, and those names are still with us to this day – the planets we call Mars, Jupiter, Venus, and so on.  They assigned the names of these fixed stars to the constellations known as the Zodiac.  

And they saw a connection between the motions of the stars and planets to life here on Earth, a practice known as astrology.  They would try to make sense of the world around them, make predictions about significant human events by watching the signs in the skies.  When they observed something out of the ordinary, it caught their attention.

And so these wise men in Matthew’s story, also known as the Magi, were both astronomers and astrologers.  They were like early versions of scientists making observations, but they also tried to interpret the meaning of what they saw.  And in the year 2 B.C. when they saw the planet Jupiter, one of the brightest stars in the sky, pass very close to the star Regulus, “the King’s star” as it was known, they knew something amazing had happened among humankind.  Today astronomers can use sophisticated instruments and planetariums to reconstruct what the stars looked like in the sky on any given night in history.  And they know that over a period of eight months in that year Jupiter passed by Regulus three times, appearing to draw a crown in the sky.  And then in the ninth month, Jupiter and Venus – the two brightest stars in the sky – passed so near to each other in their planetary travels that they appeared to fuse into a single brilliant star in the sky.  

The Magi knew that this occurrence was nearly unheard of, and so they were compelled to follow where that star seemed to lead them.  And that is how they came to be in Bethlehem of Judea inquiring about a newborn king.  They were overjoyed to find the home of the child called Jesus.

His parents, however, were most likely perplexed by the sudden visit of these strange Magi from distant lands.  Star or not, imagine how strange, how disconcerting it must have been for Joseph and Mary to open the door to their home and find these foreigners standing on their door step.  The author Elizabeth Berg in her creative imagining of that scene in her book The Handmaid and the Carpenter describes how Joseph was very suspicious of these strangers, with their odd clothes, their foreign language, and their different looking faces and skin tones.  He wanted to keep these foreigners out of his house, away from his family.  But they insisted on giving his newborn son gifts befitting a king. 

Many of us would have reacted similarly to Joseph.  We are taught to be suspicious of strangers.  We are told that foreigners are not to be trusted, that they are out to get us or take what we have.  Reams of newspaper pages and scads of blogs are written about why strangers from other lands should not be welcomed, why they should be kept out, and the harm that they are doing to us.  We build walls and establish policies, construct entire bureaucracies and schedule segments on our talk shows concerning what to do about the foreigner.

And yet in this story in Matthew’s Gospel, the message is simply this:  the foreigners have a gift to give. They offer gold, frankincense and myrhh.  But even more importantly, they share important information about Herod’s intention to destroy Jesus.  With these gifts of knowledge and priceless goods, Joseph is able to escape with his family and keep them safe.  The wise men, of course, also receive a gift – simply seeing the Christ child, the one whom the star pointed to as the King.

How do you react when you encounter the foreigner, the stranger who looks different from you, practices a different religion from you, has a skin color different than yours, comes from a place far from where you and your family live?  Our first tendency is to pull back, recoil, put a barrier between us and them.  Use derogatory names, tell crude jokes about them, pass laws against them.  We want to protect ourselves from what we are afraid of that we project onto them. 

You’ll notice many stories in the Gospel of Matthew about what it means to encounter the stranger, the one outside of your circle.  Keep an eye and an ear out for these stories this year as we read through his Gospel.  Because the people in Matthew’s circle were very worried about the wrong people getting in and messing things up.  They were very concerned about keeping themselves safe, pure and protected from outsiders, foreigners, immigrants, strangers.  So here in this second chapter, he sets the tone for what it means for humankind that this baby King has been born into the world.  Matthew shows us that even the stars in the sky are leading us to practice a radical hospitality, to trust in the God who created the planets and stars circling in their nightly eternal dance, to open ourselves to someone new coming into our circle and bringing us unexpected gifts.

I’ve seen that happen in this congregation.  Ever since Garrett Baker led the series this past summer on “Our Neighbor’s Faith,” people have been curious to learn more about those who practice different religions than ours.  

We’ve had a Muslim woman prison chaplain in her hajib telling us about Islam, what we share in common, and what is different.  We’ve had Jewish students and a Jewish professor talk to us about their faith. We had a woman talk to us about Unitarian Universalism.  And in the coming months we’ll be visited from people of the Sikh, Buddhist, and perhaps even Hindu faith. They are different than us, outsiders, foreigners.  And yet the light of Christ shining in this place has drawn them here.  Each of those who have visited with us so far has told me how much they have appreciated their visit – the  questions, discussions, and hospitality from those they met in the forums.  They may not worship the Christ as we do, but they can certainly see the light of Christ through us, opening the way to new understanding, connections, and perhaps even friendship. 

And I know some of you have received the gifts of wisdom that our neighbors of other faiths have offered.  One of our members attended the session about Judaism and gratitude and shared with me later how much the presenter’s words had meant to her.  She even wrote them down, and they became like a beacon of light for her, a star guiding her through a difficult road in her life.

From the heavens, from the point of view of those stars, our differences would not be visible, any more than we can notice distinctions between those planets at such a distance.  Our Earth is simply part of another constellation, a green and blue orb swirled in vaporous clouds.  And yet on this planet, God created life and saw fit to enter that life in all its messiness, all its beauty, all its danger, all its wonder.  Who knows, maybe some other being light years away is looking at us, making a wish upon our star.

The light that you radiate as a Christian should be one that shines with peace and hospitality that simply glows.  And as a parishioner shared with me in a quote last evening, “Your life as a Christian should make non-believers question their disbelief in God.”  When people encounter you at church, at the dinner table, in the waiting line, in the office, in the car, on the Internet, anywhere on this planet, whether you are a stranger traveling or a host welcoming: receive the gifts offered to you with graciousness.  And let the light of Christ shine in you so that they may see your good works and glorify your Father who is in Heaven.  Amen.

 

Sources: 

Levy, David H., “Star of Wonder,” Parade Magazine, December 23, 2001, pp. 8-9.

Berg, Elizabeth, The Handmaid and the Carpenter, New York, NY, Ballentine Books, 2008