Thursday 7 January 2016

Epiphany Sermon

Preached last night at Leighton . . .

Despite the best efforts of modern-day astronomers, we can probably never know exactly what it was that the wise men saw in the east, or at its rising, that persuaded them to set out and try to find a new king?  Matthew tells us that the star, whatever it was, not only started them off on their journey, but accompanied them at its close, going before them from Jerusalem to Bethlehem, till it stood over the place where Jesus lay. This is rather unusual behaviour for a star, so it may well be a bit of poetic licence on Matthew’s part. Still, omens were important, and a new light in the heavens would be bound to stand for something beyond itself, some special new event in the world, in this case the birth of a king.

Light is vital to our lives. Human beings see better in the dark than we might imagine, but only once we’ve managed to adjust. The eyes of a cat instantly adjust when it goes from a light place into a dark one, so it can see straight away. Our eyes take much longer to get used to the dark. Other senses like hearing and smell are nothing like as finely tuned in us as in cats, so we're not good in the dark. When we go out at night we need to take a light with us, especially out here in the countryside.

Light is vital to our lives, and light hailed Jesus as a King. A new star brought the news to those who could read the sky.  Not only that, this child is himself light, and will be hailed as the Light of the World. And the whole season of Epiphany in the church year, beginning with the story of the wise men who followed a star, is the story of how that light is revealed to the world. This is no ordinary child, this is no ordinary man, this is the Light of the World, the saving love of God made flesh and dwelling among us.

We use different kinds of lights for different purposes. For a big sports event we switch on floodlights. We’ll need a good beam from our headlamps when we're driving, but we’ll need to dip it when someone else approaches. Walking in the dark or searching for things in my shed I’ll take a torch or maybe a lantern, and over my desk as I wrote this I had my trusty anglepoise lamp. In the lounge a standard lamp can either be a softer alternative to the main lights, or a supplement if I need extra light to read. For a romantic dinner perhaps I’d switch out the main lights and just use candles.
 
So what kind of light is the Light of the world?  First of all he's a revealing light. As the days just begin to lengthen, and on the rare occasions when we actually get some sunlight through our windows, we start to think about spring cleaning. Why? The light shows up the dust and the untidy bits, and we realise there’s stuff we need to do something about. That’s the kind of light we get from Jesus. There’s a point in the Gospels - the disciples have just pulled in an amazing catch of fish, at Jesus’ instructions - when Peter says to Jesus, “Leave me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” It can get like that, having Jesus around. We can’t hide our sin it stands revealed, the bits we'd like to forget about, the bits we’d like no-one to see. Next to him, we see we’re less than we should be.

But secondly, like the star itself, the Light of the World is also a guiding light. I'm often very glad to have a torch or a lantern with me out here, but being a bit of a townie, I don’t always remember to bring one, and how grateful I am then to follow someone else who’s got one. Jesus says to us, "Follow me," and he promises us the light we'll need to guide our way when we do, just as he did his first disciples. As a teacher, an example and a friend he was there to guide the way for Peter and the others. And he makes the same promises to us.

And his will be a good light to follow, for the Light of the world is not only a revealing light and a guiding light, he is also a saving light. He is like the lighthouse whose clear beam keeps the ship away from dangerous rocks, seeking to save us from the wrong things in our lives, calling us home to God.  Along a given coastline each lighthouse flashes its own distinct pattern of light, so the navigator can know exactly where his ship is, what dangers lie ahead, and what course he should steer. Each light is unique and identifiable. The light of Christ is unique in a special way, for only he can deliver us from the peril of sin, and the power of evil; he alone can steer us safely into the safe waters of the kingdom.

I wonder how much of this the magi could tell from what they saw in the night sky? Or did they understand the birth of this king only in human terms? The gifts they brought might suggest a deeper understanding. Gold in its purity stands for that refining and revealing light that exposes impurity; the  frankincense for a priest represents the guiding role of the priest who is pontifex or bridge-maker - in other words, the work of a priest is to show us the way to God and to speak God's word among us; and myrrh, the third gift, is a sign of sacrifice, so myrrh surely must stand for the saving work that only God’s chosen one can perform, as he journeys from the manger to the cross. Matthew will have understood these gifts in that way, even if the kings themselves didn’t. But I think they did: the new star raised in the heavens had led them to a light never before kindled, which is divine love born to be with us and one of us, and born for our safety and our true homing, and for the salvation of the world.

No comments:

Post a Comment