Today is the day when I usually begin my New Year’s resolutions. I don’t bother starting any earlier, because frankly most of them involve either food or exercise or both, so we may as well get past Twelfth Night before starting any of that. Having said that, this year for the first time ever I’ve not made any. Instead I’ve settled on two or three serious objectives to aim at, for progress through the year, rather than specific resolutions which usually get discarded the first time I break them. And we’ll see how we get on!
You could divide the world between those who make New Year’s resolutions in a fit of optimism, and those who just shake their heads at the futility of it all. And I imagine people shaking their heads as the wise men set out on their search for a new king, seeing that, too, as a futile enterprise. What was it they saw in the sky? Well, although only Matthew tells this story, so some folk dismiss it as just that - a story - for me there’s a lot in it that rings true.
The actual behaviour of the star, at least in the later stages of that story, isn’t one of them, I have to admit. Stars don’t normally lead the way from one city to another, and then to the precise house. A satnav might, on a good day, but not a star; So I might think of that as poetic licence on Matthew’s part. But that wise men should have scanned the sky for omens, and responded to what they found there, that does ring true. Omens were important in the ancient world, and a new light in the heavens would certainly be understood as standing for something special, like the birth of a king.
Light hailed Jesus as a King, in the form of a new star for those who could read the sky. And the child born is himself light: our Christmas readings hailed him as the Light of the World. In fact the whole season of Epiphany, beginning with tonight’s story of the wise men, is about the light of understanding dawning on people who encounter Jesus.
So for me light and resolution are twin themes at Epiphany. We are pretty helpless without light, as I discovered just before Christmas when I arrived at Middleton having left my big torch at home. There was still a bit of light when I went into the church, but none at all when I came out, and I was parked right down the lane. A Matthew-style guiding star might well have been handy, something to lead me along the lane and pause above my car.
The star the wise men saw and followed was new and bright and different from anything else in the night sky. So I should imagine lots of people will have seen it without responding to it. Most of them perhaps didn’t have the skill to interpret it - but even so part of the message of Epiphany is the many people who saw the sign but didn’t respond to what they saw.
Those who did travelled to see the Light of the world: so let’s think about the light this child brings into our world, into our lives. First of all, he is a light that reveals, that shows things up, like the sunlight that sets the dust dancing, reminding us to do our spring cleaning. Jesus is light, we can’t hide from him the untidy stuff, the things we don’t want seen, stuff we want to forget about. His light reveals our sin, our imperfection, and shames us.
But he is also an inviting and guiding light, like the star itself. When Jesus says, "Follow me," he means “Imitate me, hear what I say, be as like me as you can be” - offering himself as the light we need to guide our way. He is revealed, as we read through the season of the Epiphany, as he calls the disciples, for whom he becomes teacher, example and friend. He promises the same to us.
And thirdly he is a saving light. Like a lighthouse to lead ships away from dangerous rocks, he shines to save us from the wreckage of sin and death, and to call us home to God.
We could look at Jesus and see none of this, seeing him as a good man and a fine teacher, but not see him as anything more than that. But the wise men interpreted the star they saw as the sign of something more than a king like other kings, a king in the mould of (say) Herod. Why else why would they have trekked so far, and why would they have brought those gifts? - gifts that speak of a purpose and a meaning beyond the merely human, something that involves the hand of God.
Think of those gifts in the context of Christ the Light of the World, the light of our lives. Gold in its purity can stand for the revealing light, the refining light, the light that exposes impurity; frankincense can represent the light that guides and directs, that invites and calls, for that’s the role of a priest, to be the pontifex, the bridge-maker, the one who shows us the way to God; and that third gift of myrrh speaks of the light that brings salvation, with its whisper of sacrifice, the anointing of the one who will die.
Did the wise men know what it was their gifts were saying? I’d like to think they did: as they followed with resolution and determination the path revealed by the new star they’d seen, they were looking for a light never before kindled, the light of divine love born among us.
One aim for me this year - not a resolution, but something I’d like to feel I’m getting better at by the year end - is to be more aware of, and more responsive to, the signs around me of God at work and the change his love makes within us, and not to get weighed down by the bad stuff; to be more aware of and responsive to the needs of others and the possibilities in others, and to let the light of Christ into my life. The child to whom the wise men brought their gifts is given to save us and to bring us home; he is salvation for the world. But the next step is down to us: do we have the perception and the resolution, the prayerfulness and the faith to respond?
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