by Fr. Bill Garrison

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

—Matthew 3:13-17

Epiphany begins today. Epiphany is when the hidden becomes evident. Something might have been in plain sight but for the first time we become aware of its presence and truly discover what it is as opposed to what we previously believed. We have an “epiphany”, if you will. Here is an example.

A honeymoon couple was in the famous Watergate Hotel in Washington. The bride was concerned about security as anyone might be in that hotel and asked, "What if the place is still bugged?"

The groom thought about and wondered about it himself. "I'll look for a bug."

He looked behind the drapes, behind the pictures, under the rug. Finally, he said, "AHA!" Under the rug was a disc with four screws. With a big smile on his face he got his Swiss army knife, unscrewed the screws, and threw them and the disc out the window.

The next morning, the hotel manager stopped by the room and asked the newlyweds, "How was your room? How was the service? How was your stay at the Watergate Hotel?"

The groom replied suspiciously, "Why are you asking me all of these questions?"

To which the hotel manager said, "Well, the couple in the room under you complained that the chandelier fell on them.”

Today we heard the story of the baptism of Jesus. He was about thirty years old when it occurred. I am sure lots of people had known him pretty well and had known him for a long time. Yet it wasn’t until the moment of his baptism that they began to get a glimpse of who he truly was. Until then he was just a carpenter, a man with brothers and sisters in the little town of Nazareth in Galilee, son of Mary and Joseph. Nazareth was no big deal and he probably wasn’t thought of as anybody extraordinary either. As Nathanial famously said, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

But that day witnesses saw him baptized by John, saw the Holy Spirit light upon him somewhat like a dove, and heard the voice of God. "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

And they looked at him with new eyes. They might not have recognized him as the long awaited messiah, but they knew he was way more special than they previously were aware.

Have you ever come to know someone as more than you had previously thought? Perhaps it might have been a boss or an associate? It has happened to me and I think the most dramatic example is my maternal grandmother.

I have spoken about her a few times. I hope I am not overdoing it now, but here we go as I talk about her again. Growing up she was just my grandmother. She was a lady, and adult, that I can’t say I knew particularly well. She was always nice to me. She cooked a lot. She made cakes and candy. She lived on a farm and obviously didn’t have a lot of money. She fired up the pickup truck on Sundays and went into town to church and taught Sunday school. She took great care of my granddad, a person who appeared to be somewhat helpless without her. I remember she liked to work crossword puzzles and chat with other people. I can’t say I ever heard her raise her voice. I know I never heard her say a mean word to or about anyone.

But she was just my grandmother, nothing more and nothing less. And it stayed that way all my childhood and well into my time as an adult. I guess truthfully I didn’t have my epiphany about her until I entered seminary and started studying the life of Jesus Christ in detail.

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. In my entire life I then realized I had never met another person like my grandmother. I recognized for the first time that she was the best example of what Jesus was probably like that I would ever encounter. I still feel that way. I have crossed paths with a number of holy people in my life as an ordained person. Not one has approached the sanctity of my grandmother.

You see the things I took for granted about her were the very things that made her special. She listened. She cared. She loved. She was not judgmental in any way. She had time if you needed it. She had sympathy and patience. She was smart. She was insightful. And I finally realized this was God’s gift to me. Her presence in my life was a seed that would grow and sprout much later. I became aware that this Jesus I was studying was a lot like my grandmother. In an important way I had already encountered Jesus. That was my epiphany. She remains a shining example of the holy for me to this day.

Now I am hopeful I can help each of you have an epiphany today just as the crowd did when Jesus was baptized or I did when I was able to see my grandmother for who she was.

I would like you to think about God and your relationship with God. And then I would like for you to recognize that you did not create God. You did not create your relationship with God. God created you and God reached out to you and that is why you have a relationship with God.

One of my favorite theologians, Karl Barth, reminds us that there is a fixed chasm between us and God. Had God not been willing to make God’s self known to us we would never have known about our creator or even of God’s existence. We only know God exists because God reached out to us.

And so I am going to suggest something perhaps a bit radical to you. God made us. We came out of the mind of God. What we are is what God created. Whatever each of us may have done, good or bad, does not change God’s love for God’s creation. Please remember what God said at the baptism of Jesus. "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

God said that about Jesus before he had done a thing. His ministry hadn’t even started yet. He was already the beloved just because he was God’s. Just as the father forgave the prodigal son before he could even as for forgiveness God loves God’s creation no matter what.

So I am going to ask us to sit quietly for a couple of minutes and think about it. God created you. God forgives you before you can even ask for forgiveness. You are God’s beloved. Just ponder that for a bit.

"This is my child, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

by Rev. Carole Horton-Howe

Please note that the following sermon text was provided prior to the audio recording. The two versions may differ substantially.

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, "Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising and have come to pay him homage." When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, "In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:

`And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.'"

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, "Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage." When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.

—Matthew 2:1-12 (NRSV)

Photo by Jonathan Meyer from Pexels — Photo by **Jonathan Meyer** from **Pexels**

Today is the last day of the Christmas season or Christmastide. The arrival of the Magi complete the story. So many Christmas decorations and Christmas cards include images of the Magi or Wise Men that it’s easy to forget that they wandered the desert for months before arriving at the place where the star led them. So it’s appropriate that on this 12th day of Christmas we hear a story about following the light of a star and the forces of darkness that tried to smother it. Tomorrow we’ll begin the Epiphany season – shifting from rejoicing at God’s coming among us to reflecting on what it means to us and to the life of the world.

Matthew’s is the only gospel that talks about the Magi’s visit. This story gives us a level of reality that jolts us in a way that Luke does not. Luke’s gospel is full of lovely images of angels singing and shepherds with lambs kneeling before the newborn baby. Matthew’s story, though, has all the intrigue of a Hollywood blockbuster -- rampant ambition and greed, fear and lust for power. Herod, a puppet ruler of the Romans, was so insecure that he executed his mother, his wife and three sons because he feared that they were plotting to take his throne. His encounter with the Magi on their quest to find the infant king triggers Herod’s cruelty streak yet again. And so he has hundreds of baby boys murdered in a futile effort to destroy the one little boy predicted and destined to grow up and rule Israel.

The Epiphany gospel story illustrates something critically important in the development of our faith – want it means to a community united in belief as God intends us to be. This embodiment of community instead of “us” versus “them” does not come easily, however.

Christmas is a traditional time for expressions of unity. Even during world wars, combatants often stopped fighting and sang to their enemies or even walked across the battle line to share gifts with them. At the local level, Christmas is a time when we do seem to embrace the idea of peaceful community together.

But Christmas has passed. The cards and banners proclaiming “peace on earth goodwill to all” have been put away or discarded. And if we are honest, we understand that the spirit of peace that seems to come to easily in the lead up to Christmas is fading and will continue to fade with each passing day as we return to our regular routines. If we are honest, we will admit that no assessment of the current world and national culture is clearer than the realization that people everywhere seem willing to tolerate a deep ideological divide. We live in a time when compromise is often seen as weakness and party and tribal purity, the classic duality of “us” verses “them” thinking, is commonplace.

“They” constitute a threat and everything about “them” is suspect. Emotionalism, blaming and scapegoating are no longer shock us. This is a time of believing that if you do not agree with us, you must be wrong. It may go so far as a conviction that only “we” have the right answer or access to God.

This is a time when the list of “us” verses “them” seems almost endless: whites against people of color; liberals against conservatives; Westerners against Middle Easterners; Muslims against Christians; rich against poor; male against female; native against foreign. “Us” against “them.” These aren’t easy concepts to talk about or to hear. But none of us are strangers to them, to walking on eggshells around family or friends or co-workers that we know or perhaps suspect have different views than the ones we hold. Falling into “us” versus “them” is all too easy to do. And it couldn’t take us further from being the community that God wants us to be.

The good news in today’s gospel story of honoring the Christ child is that it marks the beginning of the new understanding of peace, cooperation and unity. It recognizes that God is the God of all people, a God of unity, a God who moves God’s people beyond the trap of “us” against “them.” Jesus, born in a small town in a totally Jewish environment, was visited by learned scholars from another world. These foreigners came into the midst of the chosen people to remind us once more that our task is to embrace and teach the view that no one is so different that we dare treat them with less love or less respect than we would show those whom we know as brothers and sisters.

Paul’s letter to the Galatians reminds us of this: “In Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” No “other” who exists beyond God’s love. It reminds us that divisiveness like we experience so often is not consistent with the values of God.

The reality of God is the unity of all people – Jew and gentile, Christian and Muslim, conservative and liberal, rich and poor, male and female, black and white and red and brown, married and single, gay and straight, young and old – “us” and “them.” Through a unifying God, we are related to all people – and not just related in a common humanity but related in a much more profound way – through the Christ honored by the wise men and acknowledged as Lord of both Jew and gentile.

These "wise men from the East" were Gentiles, who saw the star -- a sign from God -- and followed it. They followed it across deserts and mountains and across natural and national barriers -- even across their own scholarly barriers of skepticism and disdain and fear -- and came at last to the place where the newborn King lay. And when they saw him, they knelt down before him. In other words, they committed themselves to follow him. And they were welcomed.

How do we know they were welcomed? Their gifts were accepted. They were given shelter. They were given safe passage back to their homes. Their story has been told through the centuries. In fact, their gifts are prophetic symbols of the whole life of this newborn King. The gold, which represents wealth and royalty, was the sign that he would be king. The frankincense -- incense, which was burned daily in the Jerusalem temple as a holy offering to God -- was the sign that he was holy, our "Great High Priest," as the letter to the Hebrews calls him. And the myrrh, a bitter spice used to wrap the bodies of the dead, was the sign that, royal and holy though he was, he would die.

And what about us? We are the gentiles, called to be part of the covenant of love and peace, heirs of the promise of God given through the birth, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We are called to transcend all the barriers to come. Not very many of us actually have to cross vast deserts on camelback. But we do have to transcend our own barriers: our skepticism and prejudices, our self-centeredness, our pre-conceived ideas, our pride -- whatever we find in the hard work of discernment separates us from the love of God. We are called out of ourselves and into Christ, to praise and worship the one who is God’s love come to earth.

And we are not alone. There are still strangers and sojourners in our world, people seeking light and truth, the love of God and the peace of Christ. The stable door is always open to all. And those of us who have arrived earlier, are called upon to welcome the stranger and traveler to the stable, to the Eucharistic table, to our hearts, and to life in Christ.

Having worshipped at the manger, the Wise Men carried the light of Christ out into the world with them, as they returned to their homes. So we, too, are called to rise from our worship at the manger and with celebrations in our hearts move steadily into the world, bearing the light of Christ -- to the places we work, the places we study, the places we play.

At the close of Christmastide in one church, a priest tells the story of one young member who was fascinated by the crèche they kept in a side chapel. More than once he found this young child in front of the figures, gazing intently and turning them over in his hands. On the day of Epiphany he got a frantic call from the child’s mother who started by stammering an apology. “What’s the matter?” the priest asked. The mother explained that her son had asked at church the previous Sunday what would happen to the crèche and figures now that Christmas was over. His mother, trying to reassure him, said that everything would be packed away safely until Christmas Eve next year. To her surprise she found the figure of the baby Jesus on her son’s nightstand that morning. He had taken it home, he told her, because he didn’t want Jesus kept in a box. “I brought him home,” he told her. “He’ll be safe here with me.”

We are called to go from this place keeping the baby Jesus safely with us.

The Light of Christ!

Thanks be to God!

Amen.