Today's celebration at All Saints in Worcester is a bilingual (English and Spanish) celebration of the Feast of Epiphany, "Three Kings Day." While it is a challenge for me, I have tried to write a homily half my normal preaching length so that it could be translated into Spanish as we went along. I continue to be present into this new year with the people of All Saints during the rector's absence.
Eighty percent of the Torah – four of the first five books of the Bible - takes place in the wilderness.
To say this another way, Genesis is a prologue that
introduces us to God’s people, who end up in Egypt by the end of that story
because of sibling rivalry. And then, when a new Pharaoh arose who did not know
Joseph, Moses is called at the burning bush to lead this people to the Promised
Land. It takes them four long books to reach their destination: Exodus,
Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy are all about wandering around the Sinai
Peninsula for forty long years!
Don’t worry, I am aware that the wilderness experience
is a Lenten theme and today only marks the beginning of Epiphany! We have six
weeks before Lent. But here is what I want to say to you today, All Saints,
even before we get to Ash Wednesday: it is not that nothing happens in all that
wandering. That's a double negative so let me say it another way: lots happens in the wilderness. Lots is learned over the course of those four decades. God’s people learn to pray for daily bread. They are given a
Law to orient their lives by. They are given that tent of meeting, where God is
present among them. While no one should pretend the desert isn’t hard, it is
ultimately about spiritual formation.
And this is why I am jumping the gun and telling you
all of this today. Because this is a formative time for you, All Saints. It’s not
fun to be in the wilderness and some days it may feel like (and in fact be like) going in circles. But this season of your life together will be what
you make of it. And it will make something new of you. People are coping (and
not coping) in various ways, and doing the best they can. There is a mixture of
hope and fear, of leadership emerging of and also of pointing fingers, of
giving thanks for daily blessings and of asking “are we almost there?” Some are
stepping away and others have stepped back in. It’s complicated.
Lent will come soon enough. For today there are these
three kings to attend to. These magi from Iran. These goyim. There is one important thing I don’t want us to miss today
as we enter these next six weeks of this Epiphany Season: they are on a journey also. Just as the ancient Israelites journeyed
toward the Promised Land through the Sinai Desert, so these three journeyed to
an unknown destination in search of one who is king of kings and lord of lords.
They followed a star. Although we only see them when they arrive, it was surely
(as T. S. Eliot imagined in Journey of
the Magi) “…just the worst time of the year for a journey, and such a long
journey.”
If you are going to sign on to be a disciple of Jesus
Christ, Biblical faith in both testaments seem clear: you have to be willing to
go on a journey. You have to be up for an adventure. We may not know where we
are going but we do know The Way. His name is Jesus. He is the babe to whom the
magi bring their gold and frankincense and myrrh, the one to whom we bring ourselves, our souls and our
bodies. He is the teacher, the healer, the prophet, the Crucified One, the
Risen One whom we trust to be the way, and the truth, and the life. He is
enough to go on.
Are you with me? The magi get there a little later
than the shepherds but all are welcome and all come to worship Jesus. Together.
That’s worth paying attention to.
A quick preview of the next two Sunday gospels: they
are both call narratives, which always seem to find their way into this time of
the year. Jesus simply says, “follow me.” He says the same to you and to me – and
to all the saints down through the centuries, in English and in Spanish and in
the languages of many tribes and nations.
I don’t pretend this is an easy time for you here at
All Saints. It is not. But I do want to insist that it is potentially a transformative time for good. You can’t
go back – not back to the good old days under “name-your-favorite-rector.” Not
back to the week before Father Greg arrived here, nor back to early October
2017 when some were relieved and some were angry and many were confused about Greg’s
medical leave. There is only a way forward.
This is a critical moment in the life of this historic
congregation and I care enough about you to speak the truth in love, because
this world is too dangerous right now for anything but truth and too small for
anything but love. So if I’m being too subtle or staying too close to the
Biblical text let me move from preaching to meddling: All Saints, seek the light. Follow the star. It will lead you to
Christ. Bring your gifts, knowing that no gift is too small. What can you give
if you are not rich or talented or wise in this bleak midwinter? Give your
heart. Start there. It will be enough.
There is a journey ahead and I don’t know how long it
will take. What I do know is this: Jesus is the Way and that if we put our
trust there, then all will be well. I don’t say that as pie-in-the sky. I don’t
say it as if I can snap my fingers and make it so by tomorrow. I say it this
way: keep your eyes on the prize. I say it because it is the most true thing I
know and that even when you have nothing to go by but a star, if it leads you
to Immanuel then it will be enough.
2017 was a hard year. I wish I could promise you that
2018 will be easier. But I don’t know yet what the next few months are going to
look like. What I do know this: God is
faithful. And you are all saints.
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