Gloria Dei Lutheran Church

Matthew 2: 1-12

This is story for dreamers and star gazers and travelers. It’s a story for anyone who feels on the outside of whatever is consider mainstream or “normal.” It’s for those of us who love a Creator who is truly creative. And it’s for anyone here today who looks upon this New Year with fear and trepidation. 

 

Jesus is born in Bethlehem and eventually, travelers from the East begin walking toward him, going by way of a star. It doesn’t say that they were Kings or that there were 3 of them, even though that’s how we tell the story most of the time. They might have been magicians, astrologers, religious advisors, intellectuals. I’m pretty sure they were well resourced, based on the baby gifts they brought along. The gifts have rich auntie vibes to me.

And they traveled so far and long that Jesus was likely into toddlerhood by the time they arrived. We don’t have to stretch our imaginations very far to consider how different, how foreign they were. These folks would have looked differently, eaten and dressed and sounded differently.

Think of the delight of God first imagining this story—of God wondering, “How can I show the world Jesus is for everyone-especially those who feel like outsiders. Oh, I got it. Probably should include some outsiders in the story. Okay, let’s go with people who study the stars and then let’s have them travel by way of starlight. And I’ll communicate with them through dreams.”

It’s playful, isn’t it? And so vulnerable. Think of all the moving parts. It’s like God is holding this whole thing together like a precarious card house or off brand tape.
 

I also think about fear. It’s not a main character but maybe a supporting lead. This story tells us that King Herod is terrified. Not only King Herod but all of all of Jerusalem. Herod is afraid because this Baby King is attracting the attention and reverence of foreigners, who follow cosmic signs. The fear is justified because that’s a little freaky deaky.

Herod’s fear as a leader is so dangerous. He’s retreated into his reptilian brain which tells us it’s time to fight or take flight. That is a terrible place to live and lead from of course, it has devastating consequences because as King, he has so much power. The power to mandate the killing of every child under the age of two, which is his attempt to snuff out and squash God. And, if you keep reading, you’ll find that the Holy Family fled to another country in order to keep Jesus safe. People lied to the government in order to protect a refugee family. This story is as familiar to me as any story can be. But when I consider that one of our most well-known bible stories has people lying to the government in order to protect an immigrant family—well, this year that part made the hair on the back of my neck stood up. 

Opportunities abound to let fear drive us. If I’m honest, I feel like I have to step out of this sort of fear pattern about six times a day. 

But if we focus on fear—if we make fear a main character and give it all of our attention and all the power, if you focus on King Herod and Jerusalem quaking, you will miss the heavens being torn open. You will miss the star shining in the sky and leading the way. You will miss the baby King. I don’t want to miss any of that. 

Where is it that you want to put your attention?

At the same time, take heart. All of the fear and terror and devastation was real. Herod had ever male child under the age of two killed. And. even that could not stop God from entering the world. From slipping in and whispering to dreamers to envision something different. King Herod’s fear, all of Jerusalem’s fear could not stop God from whispering to the dreamers: I am going to give you another way. Take another way home. 

Like the magi, I love to walk. Most days, I walk the same hour long route with my dog that I’ve been doing for years. The longest walk I’ve done was a 10 day trek in the Canadian Rockies when I was camp counselor in N Idaho. It was unbelievable gorgeous and you can’t imagine how excited I was so set down that backpack at the end of that trip.

My father in law is built differently. He is what you would call a long haul walker. Just months after he retired, he walked the entirety of the Appalachian Trail as a through hiker. Which means he started walking in Georgia and didn’t stop until he reached Maine. His job for six months was to walk and walk and walk until he got to a reasonable place to put up a tent and eat some granola. And then he’s get the next day and do it again. It’s about 2200 miles. When he got off the trail, we barely recognized him—he was wizened, with a long beard and a huge smile and a whole crew of new friends he made along the route. And then, a couple years later, the he and the friends he made along the way decided to do the whole thing again. And they did. 

 

The magi made the path by walking it, which is what we all do. They only knew the way a little bit at a time, with a little starlight each night revealing that night’s journey. 

 

I read a little part of a book titled Agrarian Spirit, on cultivating faith, community and the land. And the author pointed out that paths are different than roads, but we tend to lump them together. 

Building a road means heavy machinery, equipment, sometimes blasting mountains with dynamite. When they built Interstate 35 which runs just a few blocks from here, our house was in its path. So they picked it up and moved it to where it now sits. 

We talk about wanting to build metaphorical roads between people, groups, divides. We want to make “in roads” to move along an agenda. That’s not necessarily bad—it often leads to good things. But i suspect we trample folks along the way. I suspect I have trampled some while building a road. 

So perhaps this year, our focus might be on walking a path. Which is smaller, quieter, slower work than road building. It means paying attention to the land and people and the ecosystem already in place. Here at this fresh beginning in January, let’s picture walking a path into 2025.

You aren’t on it along, although sometimes it will feel like it. Folks are walking this path all around you.

One of the things I love most is efficiency, but path walking is not efficient.
W Bruggemann writes;  On this path, we are refusing speediness long enough to notice neighbors, refusing efficiency in order to take time for a conversation, a gesture, a march, a protest, an investment, a law—which is all slow work. 

 

The Wisemen knew about slow work. Can you imagine how many people the Wisemen talked to along the way? What they saw? Dreams they had? They encountered and outwitted potential violence. And when they arrived at the house where Jesus was staying, they were so filled with joy that the original language says they rejoiced with exceedingly great joy. The words cannot contain their joy. 

 

When we meet Jesus, in stories, in Holy Communion, in one another, in baptism, in song—let there be joy this year. Exceeding great joy.

We are going to draw Star Words. You will be invited to draw one out of the pile. This isn’t a word you pick or choose, it chooses you. It’s a gift which you receive. Which means you do not get to control it. It’s tempting to to dig around for a word you want, but just pick at random. 

 

As we end the service today, you will receive a Star Word. We have our own Wisemen who will come around with baskets full of little cards with a word on each one. Star Words are not magic. They are a yearlong prayer practice. A word to focus your attention as you walk the path. The truth is that you are going to walk a path one way or another this year. Why not have this word and prayer to guide you? 

 

Most years, I have not liked my word at all. During Covid, mine was “time,” which made me mad because time was so weird then. Another year, as I was making the words, I almost left out one of them because I just didn’t like it. But then I thought, “Well, someone might need it.” We passed the basket around and there were so many folks in worship that by the time the basket got back up front to me, there was one card left which was mine. It was the one I nearly left out because I didn’t like it. So sometimes, a word finds you because you need it whether you like it or not. One of my parishioners pulled the word “birth” which he thought was sort of weird. He hung it on one of the doorknobs in his house so he’d see it every day. That year, he started dating someone new. They fell in love and I did their wedding. He got a kick out of the fact that his star word was “birth” and he fell in love with a labor and delivery nurse. Last year, mine was “start,” which I received three weeks before I started this new call here at Gloria Dei. That’s a little on the nose. 

 

We will pass around baskets of words. Take one and put it somewhere where you see it. Watch and listen for how it shapes and shows up in your life. This is for all ages. Because we all know some babies who could use an intentional prayer practice. 

The light will seem dim some days in the coming season. But maybe that’s okay. It will make it easier to see the stars guiding us to Christ.