The Epiphany of our Lord

St. Matthew 2:1–12

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

They were hungry, tired of rough living.

They had no place to lay their heads under the cold night sky.

Little did they know that the One they sought would also have no home, no cradle, no bed, not even a tomb to call His own.

These three travelled, who knows how far.

And it was just the worst time of the year for a journey, and such a long journey.

Back home they were known as wise men, 

But on this journey they felt foolish.

The voices of friends and neighbors still rang in their ears:

“This is all folly. You’ll only come back poor, broken, empty handed. Or you won’t come back at all.” 

They left everything to follow a star 

And some old nonsense about a king of the Jews, some unknown god in human flesh, and a death that is life.

Foolishness. Utter foolishness.

Yet, they left their homes, their star-gazing towers, their position and prestige.

They left the world,

To find Him.

When they came to the land of the Jews, things became still more foolish.

They looked for Him in the holy city, in the holy temple, in the king’s palace.

But He was not there.

It’s almost like He was hiding from them on purpose.

All they got was a rude reception by some low-life, scoundrel of a tyrant.

All they got were more scraps of old prophecies, Words from the God of the Jews.

Worst of all, this God’s priests didn’t even seem to take the Words all that seriously.

Had it all been for nothing?

Where could this hidden God be found?

On to Bethlehem.

A pitiful, little town from the sound of it.

The king and priests couldn’t be bothered to go.

But on to Bethlehem.

They pressed on, determined to follow this journey to its end,

To the birth that is the end.

And then there was the star again!

Somehow stronger, brighter, clearer.

With the words of God’s prophet glowing in their hearts, the star seemed to point the way,

Led them down the very streets, Right to the door of the house itself.

Could this be the place?

Is this how the hidden God would make Himself known?

With fear, trembling with hope, they entered the house.

There was a Child.

Maybe two months old at the most, on His mother’s lap.

Nothing much to look at, like most babies.

Was this the King?

Could this be the God?

Would this Child become the salvation of mankind?

The prophecy had led them there.

The star confirmed it.

Yes. They had found Him.

They had reached the end of their journey.

They had found the birth that was the end of all journeys.

They had been brought to the end that was the beginning of new life.

And they fell down and worshiped Him. 

Then, opening their treasures, they offered Him gifts, gold and frankincense and myrrh.

And then, I like to think, they sat down, and listened.

The mother Mary, with her husband Joseph, told them everything that had happened;

The first Gentile congregation.

They heard of the angels coming and the arrival of the shepherds.

And they heard of some things that were yet to happen:

Rejection, suffering, death.

This Baby Boy would be a man of sorrows.

Someone who will bear the world’s griefs,

Pierced for our transgressions;

Crushed for our iniquities;

And with His wounds we are healed.

All we like sheep have gone astray—wandering, lost on long, cold journeys, unsure of our way, and unable to reach our journey’s end on our own—

we have turned—every one—to his own way;

and the Lord has laid on Him—on this Child—

the iniquity of us all.

And then, the three men, 

Much more wise than before,

Go back home.

With nothing to show for their journey, their effort,

No way to recover their costs.

They return empty handed.

And they count it all gain.

They go back to their foreign land,

Back to what was once their home, but now foreign to them as well.

For they had never felt more at home than in that house in little Bethlehem.

They come back with nothing,

With only His Word ringing in their ears: a ruler has come who will shepherd God’s people—all of God’s people.

They come back with no unearthly vision, 

But with only the sight of a Baby on His mother’s lap: God with us.

They come back with no riches; they had left the last of those with Him.

And they come back with only a warning of doom… or was it a promise? 

That this Son was marked, chosen to die,

Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter…

The Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.

They had left all that behind with Him too—all their sin.

They come home tired, and yet more awake than ever.

Back among their own people, they are uncomfortable surrounded by their old gods, empty, lifeless idols.

Their journey was ended, but they are no longer satisfied with this world.

Their life is over, and yet they are not afraid of death.

They had indeed come back poor, broken, and empty handed,

But with full hearts.

Back home, but not at home in this world, those three wise men are glad of another death, a different kind—

Not the death that all men must endure.

Not the little death that stops the heart from beating.

But the death of Another.

They are glad of the death of the king, the God, the sacrifice.

And so they are glad of their own death with Him:

Death to this world, 

Death to this home of sin, 

Death to self.

This is the death of all those who follow His star, 

All those who leave everything and take up their cross.

This is the death of baptism, the death of water and blood,

The death of sin,

The death of death,

The death where we are joined with Him.

This is the death that is really a rebirth—

The end of all our journeying,

The end of all our toil and sorrow,

The end of not belonging.

It is the rebirth into a new home, a new life, a new world.

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

Inspired by T.S. Eliot’s poem, Journey of the Magi

Second Sunday after Christmas

St. Matthew 2:13–23

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

On Christmas Day, I made the case that all people who celebrate Christmas are paying homage to the birth of Christ in some way, whether they know it or believe it or not. And it’s true that no one would be celebrating Christmas at all, it would not exist, if Christ had not been born. It is a thoroughly Christian holiday.

But recently, I did see something on Facebook where at least a couple people did a pretty good job of using their celebration of Christmas to spit in Christ’s face. They said, “It is literally impossible to top our [tree] topper.” And the picture they shared showed the top of their Christmas tree with a “star” made out of surgical instruments, specifically the forceps, scissors, and knives that are used to cut, kill, and tear up the little body of a unborn baby still in his mother’s womb: #ProAbortion #Christmas.

Can you imagine, celebrating Christmas, which is the birth of a Child, while also celebrating the murder of children? That is Satanic. If you think our society and culture is basically still Christian, decent, respectful of life… Wake up. All the talk of health and safety these days is outrageous, not because it’s wrong to care about health or safety, but because most of the people doing it are also fine with letting the elderly die alone and letting, or even cheering on, the willful destruction of human life in the womb.

There are more and more people in our day who openly despise Christ and His Church, who openly flout God’s Law and are proud about it, and who want to actively punish God’s people. And yet, our culture is not that different from Jerusalem at the time of the first Christmas or throughout Jesus’ life. They also despised God’s Law, persecuted God’s true people, and finally killed Christ and the first members of His Church. And that disgusting tree topper is not really that different from how King Herod celebrated the first Christmas, by murdering all the little boys in the town of Bethlehem.

I’m sorry if all this is making you feel a little uncomfortable. But sometimes it’s good to be made uncomfortable, to really see and recognize evil. But today is supposed to be the Tenth Day of Christmas, and none of this sounds very Christmassy. But Christmas has its dark side: a pregnant teen, not technically married; no family willing to help or give the couple a place to stay better than the barn; the only ones interested in this birth are a group of outcasts: poor shepherds and weird foreigners; then fleeing out of the country in the middle of the night; little babies killed and mothers weeping. That is the Christmas story. So much of it is stained and scarred by evil.

Yet, the story of Christmas and the story of Christ’s entire life and work, is that God uses evil for good. We know that for those who love God all things work together for good (Rom. 8:28). The Baby born on Christmas is the Lord who was born in order to die. The only reason He escaped Herod’s rage, while others were killed, was so that He could die at the proper time and in the proper way. His death, not in Bethlehem but on the cross, means He can give life to all, including the babies who are killed by Herod’s soldiers. There was certainly tragedy in that first Christmas story, just as there was tragedy in that first Easter story, but the end of this story is God working wonders, bringing saints out of sinners, bringing life out of death.

Our problem is that when we are in the midst of the tragic parts to our story we cannot see the good that God is working. We know He is working for our good but we only know that by faith in the resurrection of Christ and faith in our resurrection to come. In the midst of the death and darkness we don’t understand where the good will come from. In God’s wisdom, evil is permitted to continue. And when we experience it, we don’t have the answers to our questions. Why are millions of babies slaughtered in their mothers’ wombs? Or why does a child die in the womb from sickness or defect? Why are young men killed in war or in accidents? Why are families are torn apart by adultery, divorce, abuse, drugs? Why are people are forced from their homes? Why do so many lose the safety or convenience they once knew? Why are Christians imprisoned or killed? Why does a congregation fall on hard times? We don’t have all the answers to these questions. Or at least we don’t have the answers to solve these problems and rid the world of these evils.

Instead of answering the questions, we trust God’s mercy. We know that He is faithful, that He forgives all sins, that He desires life for us and with us. We know this because He gave His own Son for us and for the world. There is no sin that is not covered by the blood of God’s holy child, not even the sin of Herod, the sin of murdering an innocent baby. If that is true, then we may not despair in the face of evil. We take comfort in knowing that whatever else happens, God is merciful. And so we go on doing what He has given us to do. As St. Peter said in our Epistle: Let those who suffer according to God's will entrust their souls to a faithful Creator while doing good (1 Peter 4:19).

When tragedy and suffering and death invade our lives, or when openly wicked people seem to surround us and shove their wickedness in our faces, we probably wish that none of this would happen to us. And so do all who live to see such times, but that is not for us to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. *

Sometimes all we can do is have a good cry in the arms of a family member or friend, read a couple Bible verses, and go for a walk. Sometimes all we can do is take the next tiny step, do the next right thing, like focus on teaching just our own children or grandchildren about what is good and right, and forget about the rest of society. And maybe that’s just in a passing conversation. Maybe for one day it’s just saying your prayers together. What we do to keep the darkness at bay is usually very small, and might even feel like it doesn’t help much in the grand scheme of things. We may not even be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but we know that Light is coming. That Light (with a capital “L”) was born for us in the evil darkness that covers this world. Our Light was born in the night of sin where the devil seems to have his way. But that Light was born and His Day is coming, when all evil will be exposed, and all things wrong will be put to right, and children will be given back to their mothers and fathers, and even the most wicked sinners who have turned back to God’s Son will be welcomed into His home.

In the three days following Christmas, we remember a group of saints who departed this life while confessing, witnessing to the Holy Child of Bethlehem. They are all martyrs, but in different ways. 

One Dec. 26, we remember St. Stephen, the first martyr of the New Testament Church. He was a martyr in will and in deed. That means he was willing to die for the testimony he gave about Christ and he did. He was stoned to death by the Jewish rulers. 

On Dec. 27, we gave thanks to God for His Apostle and Evangelist, St. John. St. John was a martyr in will but not in deed. He was willing to die for his Lord and Master, but as far as we know he died of old age, the last of the apostles, yet giving testimony of the Gospel until the very end. 

On Dec. 28, we remember the Holy Innocents, the little boys of Bethlehem, who died at the hand of Herod’s soldiers. They were martyrs in deed but not in will. They were killed because of Christ, but they were not able to choose to do so willingly. And yet the Church has always regarded them as holy martyrs, champions of the cross who now rest in joy and peace around the throne of God. For as I said before, God worked good through this evil event. His Son was spared from Herod’s cruel order, but ultimately He was put to death as the one true martyr of all martyrs: the One who died in our place and did so totally willingly, freely, even joyfully suffering, for the glory that is rightfully His and is also shared with us.

So, if we must suffer, if we must die, then let us do so willingly, while trusting the One who willingly suffered and died for us at the proper time; trusting in the One who also rose from the dead so that He can raise us all at the proper time and crown us with His own glory and honor. This means that whenever tragedy strikes, when we don’t have the answers to our questions in the face of evil, what we need to do every time is repent. 

Let us kill the evil in ourselves. Let us die before our deaths, and so be given a different kind of life. This is life found only in God’s forgiveness, so that whenever death comes we can lie down in our graves like little children lie down in their beds; with trust, like a child as his mother and father tuck him in bed and kiss him goodnight, and with blamelessness, like the baby boys of Bethlehem who did no wrong, for in Christ we are truly holy innocents. Let us lie down in death with the full confidence of a child who knows morning will come, we will open our eyes, and we will see our loving Father. 

We still grieve, we still suffer, and we still die, but with hope. For although we are separated now from loved ones, although we bear the burdens and scars of sin and death, the birth of God’s Son means that all of God’s children will be brought home and reunited at last.

In the Holy + Name of Jesus. Amen.

*  Loosely quoted from J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring