The Road Isn’t Straight

Isaiah 43:16–21 NRSV

Thus says the Lord, who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters, who brings out chariot and horse, army and warrior; they lie down, they cannot rise, they are extinguished, quenched like a wick: Do not remember the former things, or consider the things of old. I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise.

How did you get here?

When did you see the star?

Who were these wise men?

Where do we see ourselves in this story?

What gift do you have to bring?

Where will you go from here?

How did you get here?

Let’s think for a moment. Try to trace the steps of your morning, specifically the movement from there to here. Wherever you’ve come from this morning, think of how you got here. It’s safe to assume most of you drove here. Our parking lot is generally filled with cars this time of week. Perhaps you rode a bus. I know some of you probably walked. How did you get here, trace the movements.

To drive here, I get onto Texas St, turn onto Woburn, which leads to Iowa, James, State, and ultimately to a left hand turn onto 14th st., just down the hill from here. What roads brought you here?

How many turns, who accompanied you?

Today is the feast of the Epiphany, where the church celebrates the arrival of the wisdom seekers from the East to visit Jesus. We don’t have a clear picture of the road they took to arrive in Jerusalem, but it is implied that it was a journey. Likely through mountain passes, across wide deserts, maybe across a river or two.

The road to where we are today is not straight. Think, even about your journeys these last few weeks to celebrate Christmas. Was everything straight and easy? Or was it more “over the river and through the woods?” for you and yours? Did everything work according to plan? Did the snow tires handle the mountains, did your roof handle the rain? How did you get here?

We aren’t often so bold as to ask this, but let’s do it today. Let’s zoom out a bit further than simply our morning transit across town to church.

How did you get here? What has your journey been like to lead you to this place, in this moment, sitting in those pews, with these people?

We each have a story of the journey. Some of us got here by well defined paths, through birthright or family obligation, proximity or friendship. Others of us took a more circuitous route. Grew up Baptist, left my faith, thought about becoming Catholic, then found that Presbyterians are a pretty good mix that I can work with…right?

How did you get here?

Before moving on, hold that question and care for it, tenderly. The journey you have been on to find the Christ is no less fantastic than that of the wise travelers. In God’s grand story, you have a part of the narrative and God has directed you to this moment, this place, this time, with stumbles and missteps along the way, to the place God has intended you to be, this moment, this place, this time.

When did you see the star?

The travelers from the east were following a star in the sky, as we know. And who does that kind of thing? Well, people who are searching for something.

Who watches the stars? Who tracks the signs of the times, of the heavens? People who are searching, seeking, something. People of hope.

I really connect with the wise travelers in the Jesus story. As I grow into midlife, I find myself continuing to be a searcher. I’m curious about what it is that I don’t know. What lays behind the veil? I wanna know. Maybe you’re like me. I know a lot of us are searchers. In church language, we often call it being a “seeker.” Sure, that works. I think I’m a lifelong seeker. Are you?

Seeking implies a willingness to discover. It speaks to a longing in us to see faith realized. Many of us seek through things like study, prayer, and participation in religious services, like this one. We may seek through meditation and breathwork. We may see through psychology or through yoga. All of these are ways we attend to something deeper around us. All of these are ways, in my opinion, to do what the Celtic Christians describe as listening for the heartbeat of God. Looking for the light of Christ, as we have done for so many weeks now, hoping to see the dawning star, hoping to see light in the darkness.

So when did we see the star? What I mean is, as we consider our journey, when did we feel the draw and the call to follow this particular star? There are lots of great stars to follow, especially in our time. But something distinct has called to you about this particular star. And me to, all of us. So when did you feel that pull from the star? When do you still feel it?

Who were these wise men?

We don’t know much about who these wise travelers were. We don’t even know there were only three, though the tradition has aligned with the number of gifts, the gold, frankincense, and myrrh brought to the Christ Child. But who were they? Who might they be?

Scholars argue that among them were likely Persian Zoroastrians, a contemporary religious tradition to Judaism and early Christianity in the Middle East. Zoroastrians were (and still are) known for their attention to the patterns of the stars. As well, other religious cults and groups of the time are easily mapped upon this troupe. Studiers of the stars from the East. It’s a vague description, so it leaves much to the imagination.

We still study the stars. We still look for signs in the changing of the seasons, in the reading of leaves and clouds and patterns in nature. This is an enduring part of sacred pursuit — looking for signs of the divine in the here and now.

If you’ve gone out to follow stars or look at the night sky, you know it can be a dizzying, dazzling sight. And it can also be staggeringly disorienting and reorienting. It requires faithful practice, ongoing attention, diligent study. These were educated, attentive wise travelers.

Where do we see ourselves in this story?

Can you identify with these seekers?

It may be that your pursuit of answers and desire to know more about God is the way you seek. If you’re like me, you’ll find that the answers only come through deliberate yet winding journeying. The road to clarity, to epiphany, is never straight.

As we seek to identify with these seekers, we must also be warned against despair. Perhaps you have not seen the star or heard the voice or felt the presence of God. Perhaps you journeyed here, today, not on your own volition, but out of obligation to someone or something else. Maybe you have been on this journey all your life, and yet the star never quite rests, but keeps moving out onto the horizon.

There is space for us to see ourselves in this story in many ways. Does your heart light up as you consider yourself a seeker? Are you someone who studies the signs? Do you long to know the answer, to find the secret, to divine the truth? Don’t we all?

One of the most important ways we can see ourselves in this story is to recognize that these travelers are outsiders. If you pick up the Bible and read from a certain vantage point, you can start to wonder if there’s anything in this story about you or anything that matters to your journey. We doubt our place, don’t we?

However, traditionally, this text and the story of the Epiphany, the discovery of the Christ child, this is seen as a story where God’s family expands much wider than it was thought to be. What I mean is, these are outsiders — they’re not Jews or Palestinians. They’re not sons and daughters of Abraham, at least not by this line. And so for these travelers to be so prominent in the early part of Jesus’ story is to show us that outsiders are welcomed in. We, you and me, more than 2000 years later, are welcomed in, welcomed to the ever-widening circle of God’s love.

If you are a seeker — know that you belong. Your questions and your hopes and longings — they belong and are welcome.

In fact, I hope that we can each see ourselves as seekers. Seekers who, in a real sense, don’t belong because of qualifications or blood or prestige or whatnot. Rather, seekers who belong because they are called by the mystery of the star, the mystery of the Christ.

Does that sound like you?

What gift do you have to bring?

Once we realize that we are a part of the story, that our seeking and our longing has a place, then we are confronted with a whole new set of questions.

Now what? How do we respond? We’ve seen the light, now what are we to do?

Here we have to bring up Herod and we have to attend to the gifts the travelers bring.

First, Herod responds to the possibility that the seekers have found the new king with thinly veiled apprehension. Remember, Herod is the puppet ruler of Palestine, an installed king under the influence of Roman occupiers. What does Herod seek? Well, to secure his place as King of the Jews. This story from the wise travelers of a new king is a threatening story to Herod.

Herod can be synonymous with the pursuit of power or position. When we seek in hopes of gaining riches or holding office or garnering support for ourselves, we miss the meaning of the journey.

The journey that heads straight to the top is not the journey into the light. The journey into power is a distraction from the journey into humility and belonging.

Second, we have the joy of attending to the gifts the travelers bring and seeing them as a mirror to our own lives. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Precious gifts, humbly offered. I’ve been thinking about the Christmas Carol, “the Little Drummer Boy,” which says, “I have no gift to bring, that’s fit to give a king.” The gifts offered are humbly given, knowing they are laid at the feet of the king of glory, the Lord of Lords, the Light of the World. Inadequate gifts to such majesty, yet received with love and deep acceptance by the Christ.

What is the gift you can humbly bring? Would you? The gift you, specifically you, offer to God and to the world. Would you bring it?

Recall our reading from Isaiah — all creation is held together and directed by God’s hand, including the winds, the seas, and the animals. Each have a part to play in what God proclaims is the coming of new things. God is doing something new among God’s people. This newness breaks through in Jesus and continues in us, the followers of the star here and now.

The joy of Epiphany is that weary, traveling outsiders are joyously able to offer the humble, precious gifts to the child. We too, as we find ourselves in the story and realize it is the hope we’ve been longing for, we too can offer our gifts. Will you? How has your journey shaped you? What have you been trained to do, grown able to offer, skilled or learning, seeking and uncertain — what can you offer?

Where will you go from here? (Beware of powerful rulers)

The final question I want to ask of this text is: “where will you go from here?”

The powers of the world would like us to return to them and give them our honor and gifts. Herod wants to know where the child is, he claims, so he can worship as well, but we know that’s a lie. Power wants to control what might threaten it.

And so, the journey continues to be winding, circuitous. The road is not straight. Even when we have arrived at the dawning light, we know that we must continue on.

The wise travelers were warned to not return to Herod. They found another path home. Beware of powerful rulers who want your help.

Where will you go from here? Will you return to darkness and wandering? Will you return to the power structures that overshadow you? Will you return to despair and empty struggle? Or will you see that you can leave and never return to those ways, those pursuits? Will you embrace the arrival of hope, of a new start, of a fresh place to humbly offer your gifts?

God has called you to this place. To this moment in your journey. Will you come to worship? Will you leave to share the good news and your gifts? The joy of epiphany is that we have seen the star, the child, and are changed.

Amen.