On the
Eighth Day of Christmas
Matthew 2:1-12
(Gary W. Charles, Cove Presbyterian
Church, Covesville, VA, 1-1-2017)
Most say that Christmas ended a week ago. So,
why is the sanctuary still decorated for Christmas and why are we still singing
Christmas carols on New Year’s Day?
Christmas
did not end a week ago, but only began and lasts for twelve holy days, this
being the eighth day of Christmas. Christmas will end on Thursday of this week,
on January 5, a day before the great feast of the Epiphany.
Epiphany
is an English rendering of the Greek word meaning: “to show,” “to shed light
on,” “to reveal.” The text for Epiphany is always from the second chapter of
Matthew, the telling of the coming of the Magi to Bethlehem. Most folks cannot
name the first five books of the Bible, but they can tell you about the Magi,
the ones who followed that fateful star, bringing gold, frankincense, and myrrh
to the infant king. For Matthew, the first to worship the new born king of the
Jews were Gentiles.
The Gentile Magi not
only bring gifts; they bring trouble. They stir up the curiosity and animosity
of King Herod. He sings his not-so-lilting lullaby about wanting to bring his
own gifts to the infant king. And, by their disobedience, the Magi bring on the
supposed slaughter of all the male children in Bethlehem.
Matthew knows that God’s
good news always has its enemies; that grace for all is a threat to any who
believe grace is only for the few. One has but to love to arouse hatred, to
speak truth to awaken a network of deception and lies. Matthew’s Epiphany story
is a story of hatred unleashed when love is en-fleshed.
Today
is not Epiphany, but by next Sunday the feast of the Epiphany will have passed.
So, on this eighth day of Christmas, I invite us to look a few days ahead, look
ahead to Matthew’s Epiphany story. When we do, we remember not only Magi who
sought light amid the darkness; we remember courageous souls in all times who have
lived in love despite blatant hatred and violence. We remember souls like the
late Oscar Romero, Archbishop of El Salvador.
Initially
slow to address the abuses of the poor by his government, finally Father Romero
found his voice and soon after the government militia found him.
Gunned
down while presiding at the Lord’s Table, these were his final words:
“I
have been threatened with death. Nevertheless, as a Christian, I
do not
believe in death without resurrection. If they kill me, I shall arise in the
people. . . . I will die, but the church
of God, which is the
people, will never perish.”
Father Romero learned at the
cost of his own life about the hatred that is unleashed when love in en-fleshed.
We remember Benjamin Weir, former moderator of our
denomination, who was held hostage in Lebanon in the 1980s. Faced daily with
torture and the threats of death, Weir recounts how he kept his spiritual
sanity:
“Sunday
morning in captivity I awoke. In my mind’s eye I could
see
Christians all awaking and proceeding to places of worship. There they gathered
at the Lord’s Table. My mind moved westward with the sun. I envisioned people
of various cultural backgrounds gathering. I was part of this far-flung family,
the very body of Christ. I unwrapped my
piece of bread held back from my previous meager meal and began the
Presbyterian order of worship. When it came to sharing the cup I had no visible
wine, but this didn’t seem to matter. I knew that others were taking the cup
for me elsewhere at this universal table. As others prayed for me, so I prayed
for them.”
Faced
with the harangues of hatred, Romero and Weir sustained
life and faced death living
out the sacrament of non-violent love.
I
realize that these two Christians are exceptional. I also know that for many
Christians today, the season of Epiphany is a footnote that is long ago
forgotten. For many, the story of the Magi is arcane and irrelevant, as rusty
and useless as an old two-wheeler left out in the rain for years.
For many churches and for most Christians, today is not the
eighth day of Christmas or the approaching Eve of Epiphany. It is New Year’s Day.
It is time to start making resolutions so we can break them in good order.
Why
fight culture? For Matthew, it is well worth the fight for Epiphany gives
notice to the church that the One we follow was born in rags, lest we neglect
those who still live in them. The One we follow was forced into exile, lest we ignore
and even persecute those who are aliens in our land. The One we follow was executed
for trumped-up reasons, lest we forget those who die in our prisons because of
justice denied.
Epiphany
declares to the faithful the edgy truth not
that if we just believe hard enough then something good is going to happen to
us. That is, at best, a naïve, churchy lie. The edgy truth of Epiphany for sophisticated,
urbane, well-educated, often cynical Christians is that God’s hope and promise
shines with the same luster now as on the first Epiphany. Neither Herod nor
Pilate nor Caesar nor any person since has been able to stop the loving and
redemptive purposes of God.
The Epiphany faith still shines like the brightest star on
the darkest night. The Epiphany faith is what creates in us a spirit of non-violent
love despite the rousing choruses of hatred, a spirit of invitation to extend a
warm welcome to the “other” despite the word on the street to keep to
ourselves, a spirit of acceptance to embrace expressions of doubt despite our absolute
enchantment with certainty.
The Epiphany faith is the gift that Matthew wants us to
claim on this first day of the calendar year 2017, on this 8th day
of Christmas, and on the great feast day ahead. It is claimed every time we
feast at this table and every time the waters of baptism flow. It is a
star-shining, hope-giving, life-renewing Epiphany faith in God’s resolution to
shine light into utter darkness, a resolution of life and light that God never
breaks!
So, on
this eighth day of Christmas and this New Year’s Day, let me be the first to
wish you a blessed, a holy, and a star-shining Epiphany!
AMEN
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