|
wednesdays |
|
<< back
O God, who by the leading of a star didst manifest thy only-begotten
Son to the peoples of the earth — Tonight we take a moment and look at Epiphany. I cannot give you all of the theology, but the short version is this. At Epiphany we celebrate the Manifestation of the Christ Child to the World. We stand in wonder at the full revelation, this manifestation of the Incarnation, the complete and tangible expression of God that is introduced to the world. This manifestation begins with the very small, the few who are willing, the one who consents and opens her life and her body, with a simple decent man who obeys, the humble who hear the angels: those who go and see. Let’s face it, they are a fairly well known crew, motley maybe, but deeply ingrained in the story that runs through you and me. Finally at Epiphany, entering quietly onto the stage come the bit parts, the two-liners, one scene and they’re off. We know them not, as they are faintly drawn. They take haunting shapes. I think I have seen one or two in my bathroom mirror…your mileage may vary. From my childhood it was a bit cheesy, always. Little Christmas, drag that tree to the curb, twelve drummers drumming and a song about a rubber cigar; it is the bitter end if you are nine. A righteous excuse for one last present but then it’s back to school. Then there are those camels, but never mind we all agree; it is just grand! Jesus says “hello” to the world. I guess I started thinking about Hello, the Manifestation to the peoples of the earth and the unbearable sadness of God’s love for us. Then I thought about the seekers: the supporting players in the drama. If that well-known passage in Philippians is true, and I believe it is, that Jesus obeyed and let go of the fullness and the form of God and humbled himself in human likeness, then it is not His introduction that shakes me…it is His farewell. We think of his coming into the world as such a pleasant thing. We paint it in soft hymns of the 19th century. It cannot be for he embraced the brokenness of you and me and wore it like a heavy garment. If what he embraced is not what we readily think, then we can likewise not avoid all that he said goodbye to. GOODBYE: GOODBYE: GOODBYE: GOODBYE: GOODBYE: GOODBYE: And Goodbye to the very perfect-ness of Heaven; to cleanliness and purity like dross-less silver and gold.
HELLO: HELLO: HELLO: HELLO: The little Lord Jesus no crying he makes? Don’t bet on it, baby. Gee. I really thought I was in a good mood this morning. ******************************** And what of these wise men? They leave their homes, families and possessions to travel for many years to reach some distant place underneath a hovering star: all because they believe and are willing to seek. Are they destined to always seek? Or do they in fact exchange their precious gifts for something greater? Soon enough, they disappear, a first act cameo with camels. Warned of Herod’s wrath, the Holy Family flees and the wise men are left to return to their country by a different way. No star. No quest to guide them. Never heard from again. Is the very heart of God, beating in the breast of the Son any different than these three seekers from the Orient: lonely, seeking, reaching to the end? Well yes, it is. Because Jesus embraces his destination – He is meaning itself, the silent suffering answer to all the Pontius Pilates forever. Jesus Christ in the fullness of His Manifestation has turned from the source of light, His home; and entered into the darkness, our world.
SIMEON: Talk about mid-life crisis? This is the end-of-life job. Hell, it is the whole life going down the tubes. For what? A Word? A Hope? Give him his creds, with little to show for his life except looking, waiting and seeking, the old guy is supple enough to be guided by the Spirit to the Temple. In the temple he finds fellowship. He finds a woman who has sought the same. He finds a building that is the image of the home he deeply longs for. He finds a crystal morning. He finds light so unique that it does not flow from the openings in the thick stone walls, or the clouds or the sky. He finds light in the arms of the most unlikely of parents. He finds the prize. He finds the imprint of God on earth. It wasn’t hard really. He had seen this child in his mind’s eye every day of his life. Then Simeon sees his own death awaiting him. That’s it. That’s all that is in the script. No feast day! No porcelain piece in Christmas Crèche. Curtain. The Magi cop and go, off on a starless unknown road holding out for home. Simeon scoops the child Jesus from his parent’s puzzled grasp and cries out to his God and Master. This is a funny place for the denouement. And it’s a tough message Simeon has to give. No wonder no one likes him. There is no Victorian quaintness; Simeon proclaims the Savior of the world and embraces his own demise. It says he blesses Joseph and Mary and I guess the child too. It’s not much of a blessing, really, nowhere near the top four or five on your list. With one foot toeing the edge of the grave you can just imagine old Simeon chewing the scenery. He pronounces the destiny of the babe: the tragic will of the Father for the Son. It is more horrible than ever imagined. This time the Father slays the Son but it will end one day in a history stopping wedding feast. A Wedding, a dance…yes: the surest signs of comedy. His parting words are for the young mother, as if this were all not enough: “One day a sword will come and tear through your very soul.” And so he says: “Goodbye.” [Exit, Up Stage Left with all messengers and apparitions.]
Candlemas With certitude
|
|
