Readings: Isaiah 60: 1 – 6; Ephesians 3: 1 – 12; Matthew 2: 1 – 12
I wonder if you’ve experienced being in the countryside on open moorland and standing in a high boggy place – perhaps where several rivers have their sources? Such watersheds are often strange places; wild and remote, high up, but not proper summits, wet wildernesses with no particular landmarks. So you can’t quite be sure what you have come to see or whether you have even reached a particular spot. And perhaps there’s a view stretching off in all directions to distant valleys and further ranges of hills. We’re celebrating the Epiphany today when we remember the visit of the wise men to the Christ child. The word itself means ‘manifestation’ or ‘showing’, but it could also be described as a watershed because this is the moment when non-Jews first came to worship Christ. Something entirely new and unexpected has arisen, for the Epiphany opens out the vista of what is to come in both ethnic and geographical terms. Access to the God of the Patriarchs is no longer confined to Jews or to those who live in the tiny nation of Israel. These somewhat exotic visitors from the East demonstrate that He makes Himself known to the whole world.
Our reading from Isaiah gave us a vision of dawning light and of restoration for the nation of Israel. Other nations and kings are drawn to the light; they bring gifts and praise the Lord. The vision envisages the return of Israel to a position of national strength. Matthew’s narrative of the visit of the wise men is well known, and there are echoes of Isaiah’s vision. But something much stranger than Isaiah’s vision has happened. This truly is a watershed moment because with the coming of Christ the whole world has changed for ever. This is well-expressed by T S Eliot in his poem The Coming of the Magi. At the end of the poem the speaker, one of the wise men, recounts how he is no longer at ease “in the old dispensation, With an alien people clutching their gods.” He is no longer at home in his own country. What has happened is as much about the death of the old familiar pagan world as it is about a birth.
The same all-encompassing change is in the mind of the writer of the letter to the Ephesians. Paul sees himself as the apostle appointed to bring to the Gentiles the news of “the boundless riches of Christ” (Ephesians 3: 8). This is so that everyone may now understand God’s plan to reconcile the whole world to Himself. It is now through the church rather than through God’s people Israel as in the past, that God will be made known not only to the world, but even to the “rulers and authorities in the heavenly places” (Ephesians 3: 10).
If we can really place ourselves in this strange watershed landscape of the Epiphany, new vistas begin to unfold around us. Such places can be unsettling; we may have to adjust our whole worldview. Our Gospel reading shows us how several different characters reacted to the coming of Christ.
First, Herod. He reacts with fear to the visit of the wise men asking for the king of the Jews, and to the star which signifies a royal birth. (Incidentally there was a conjunction of Jupiter, Saturn and Mars at about the time of the birth of Christ which could have been seen by astrologers). His royal advisers go into a flurry of activity. Herod is afraid that his position of power may be threatened by the child and later does all he can to ensure that the baby will not survive. He’s depicted as behaving deviously in his dealings with the wise men, making out that he too wishes to go and pay homage. The people of Jerusalem are also afraid, perhaps because they know their King’s insecurities are likely to lead to repression. Perhaps because this child represents the unknown and the unexpected. Things might change, and any change is unsettling, even when life is already tough.
But the wise men react very differently to this great event. It’s been pointed out that the sight of the star in itself would not have spoken to them if they had not already been inwardly moved. They must already have been looking for something, hoping for something. This searching and hoping was strong enough to send them on a long journey. Both Lancelot Andrewes and T S Eliot make much of the difficulties of such a journey, picturing it as happening in winter. Of course, we don’t really know! But whereas for Herod and the people of Jerusalem, the news of the child brings fear, for the wise men, the corresponding word is “joy”. We are in fact told that they were “overwhelmed with joy” (Matthew 2:10). They pay homage to the child and bring gifts which are suitable to His status and which foreshadow His passion. But they do not stay. They go back to their own country.
Standing at the beginning of a new year can seem like being at a watershed as we survey the months to come. It’s a strange place to be. How do we respond to this? Do we make one or two resolutions – things that might seem achievable – to eat less chocolate or take more exercise? Those might be mine! Or do we allow ourselves to be properly unsettled by the story of the Epiphany, to recognise that, with the coming of Christ, everything has changed? Which of the characters in the story speak to us? Is it the fearful Herod, who thinks that he will be usurped and seeks to hold on to power by any means? Is it the general populace who share his fear though for different reasons – and perhaps simply want life to carry on as it always has, even if things are tough. Or are we, like the wise men, already looking for something more? Are we prepared to leave our securities behind and set out on a journey? Do we sense their joy and long to share in it, knowing that nothing will ever be quite the same again? Let’s take time, before we become immersed in 2014, to be in this strange place and to allow it to unsettle us.