The Feast of the Epiphany (Year A, RCL)
January 6, 2008
The Reverend Paul R. Abernathy, Rector
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Epiphany. From the Greek, meaning manifestation or revelation. That season following Christmas through which the church proclaims that Jesus the Christ
came to save not only his people, tribe, clan, race, nation, but all people.
The gospel passages appointed in Epiphany are meant to invite us to join Jesus on an ever expansive, inclusive journey of the declaration of the
universality of his mission. Thus, on January 6, the Feast and first day of the Epiphany season, we begin at the beginning – that initial, seminal
sign, as the Bible tells it, that Jesus is one for the world. Magi, astrologers, philosophers from the East, possibly Babylon or Persia or Syria – in
other words, not Jesus’ people, not of his tribe, clan, race, nation, and, therefore, for Matthew, symbolic representatives for us all, of us
all – come to worship.
Yet, in this act of worship, the magi, for Matthew, are Jesus’ people, for they know who he is – one for the world. Even more, Matthew, through
the symbols of the magi’s gifts, tells us who this Jesus is and what he will do. Gold is the tribute to a king. Jesus will rule with love and
govern with justice his people, all people. Frankincense is an offering to a priest. Jesus will make sacrifice, will be a sacrifice for his
people, all people. Myrrh is a memorial for a prophet. Jesus will speak the truth of God’s word to heartless powers and heedless principalities, and,
being true to that truth, will die.
However, as Matthew wrote his gospel narrative after the events he purports to tell – after the life and ministry, the death and resurrection
of Jesus, after the claims of his kingly, priestly, and prophetic ministry had begun to be made – this story of the magi is intentionally
interpretive retrospectively. From the perspective of his present, Matthew, through this story, looked back in his quest to make meaning. Hence, I
bid that we look back and use this story as a lens through which we see our present and, therefore, who we, as Jesus’ followers, are and
what we, like the magi, are to do.
As we offer sovereign gold to Jesus, we are called to give less freely the heartfelt tribute of our loyalty to worldly powers, whether secular or
ecclesial. Powers whose primary motive, once having become institutions, is always self-perpetuation, however praiseworthy their founding cause.
As we offer holy frankincense to Jesus, we are called to sacrifice the illusion, our self-delusions of the righteousness of our sacred
theologies and the rightness of our treasured philosophies, so that we might be free to be people for the world. People who are able and willing
to encounter, engage, and learn from our sisters and brothers in our human family who are unlike us.
As we offer a martyr’s myrrh to Jesus, we are called to see afresh the reality of death, to behold anew the inevitability of our own, and, in
so doing, to recommit ourselves to our life’s purpose.
As a preacher, I believe that I always preach first to myself, then, with you, offering for your reflection the meaning about human existence as I have
discerned it for myself. And this is what I see through the lens of this story…
Long before my sabbatical,[1] I began to understand that the meaning of the Christian gospel is love, unconditional
benevolence to all, and justice, right and fair dealing with all. The meaning of the Jesus’ story is that he, as one for the world, is an incarnation,
an embodiment of love and justice. He lived it. He died for it. The meaning of the church, the community of his followers, is to be an incarnation,
an embodiment of love and justice. Hence, I give the gold of the tribute of my loyalty to this cause. Not to an institution, even the church, for
the institution’s sake.
Then came my sabbatical – the theme of which was Conversation, Not Conversion; Encountering and Engaging “the Other.” I have returned to you,
St. Mark’s, a changed person. Far less wedded to my own worldview. Far more open to meeting and being changed by that of “the other.” That openness
is the frankincense of my self-sacrifice.
On April 15th, I will celebrate my thirtieth year as a priest in the church and on June 8th, my fifty-sixth year of life in this world. I will neither
be as active nor as alive for as long as I already have been. The fragrant myrrh of my mortality and, hence, the urgency of engaging my life’s purpose
daily fills the nostrils of my consciousness.
All of this is why I call us, St. Mark’s, to engage the world. Yes, let us continue – through the arts, Christian education, outreach, worship,
and in our parish life – to nurture and strengthen ourselves. Yet not only and no longer mainly for ourselves, but, rather, as a community for
the world, a community for others.
This was my call to us on February 1st of last year when I returned to you from my sabbatical. It is my call to us today as we enter this new calendar
year.
As you, my sisters and brothers of St. Mark’s, consider the challenge of my calling, I ask – to what, then, or, perhaps to whom will you offer the gold
of your loyalty, the frankincense of your self-sacrifice, and the myrrh of your awareness of your dying and, thus, your sense of
urgency each day to press on in the pursuit of your life’s purpose?
