Listen to the Sermon.
Have you seen the big star that the downtown Seattle Macys puts on the building for the Christmas season? I wonder if they would loan it out one of these years for Epiphany. If we put it up on the church, do you think wise people would come here seeking Jesus?
A new and brilliant star in the sky draws the magi, first to Jerusalem, and then to Bethlehem. Can you imagine what it was like for Mary and Joseph to hear a commotion outside and a knock at the door? Camels in the courtyard, along with the usual sheep and donkeys and chickens. Strangers, wearing clothing so grand compared to the simple rough-woven cloth of everyday life, and speaking with a heavy Persian accent.
We can imagine the conversation as they welcomed these unlikely guests – or at least one side of it.
Welcome, God be with you.
My health is well, thank you. How is your health and your family?
Please come into my home.
Sit here, in the best seats.
May I offer you some water? Bread and cheese? Fresh dates?
Have you traveled far? What brings you to Bethlehem?
You’re looking for the king? I’m sure he’s not here. He’s in Jerusalem, in a grand palace.
Oh, you’ve been there…and you’re looking for a different king.
Hmm. A star, you say?
Unexpected guests can be disconcerting. There’s a whole list of things we might worry about if someone shows up at our house without warning. Like the chaotic mess of everyday life with children or pets, dishes and laundry that never seem to be finished. Whether there is enough food in the house to stretch dinner – and enough seats for everyone at the table. Or maybe just what people will think to find us in our most comfy clothes at whatever hour.
Welcoming guests, expected or not, was part of life in the ancient Near East. Hospitality was a matter of life or death. There wasn’t a Holiday Inn or budget motel at the next exit off the camel track. There weren’t restaurants at every oasis. Thieves abounded, and obvious foreigners were even more vulnerable. The Hebrew Scriptures often mention welcoming the stranger. In a desert culture, hospitality became a cultural mandate for a person of integrity and honor. Hospitality meant offering a safe place to rest, food and drink, and kind concern for your guests’ well-being until they were ready to leave. Even unexpected guests, and even strangers.
And so Mary and Joseph welcomed these highly educated, regal men and women from far distant lands into their humble home, to meet their son Jesus. In turn, they heard an amazing tale of God using a convergence of stars to attract the attention of these sky-watchers and draw them Westward to find a new king.
This morning we began our service by marking the front doors of the church with a sign of welcome to all people. Or at least all people who know what that mysterious marking means. I do think the Macys star might draw more attention. Marking the door lintel is symbolic of this season of Epiphany. This season is about making Jesus known to the world - with a star, or by the light of Christ shining through us - and about generously welcoming all who come seeking God.
In the next eight weeks of Epiphany we read the stories of God making Godself known to the world in Jesus’ baptism and miracles, healings and signs and teaching. Like a light that gets brighter and brighter, Jesus’ life and ministry reveal God’s grace and peace and healing power to the world.
The ‘all the world’ part was a hard one for the Jewish people. They believed in a Messiah come to save God’s chosen people, THEM. Instead, the magi come from far away, showing that the message of the light and hope Jesus offers has spread to all people. Whether our guests are wise people from Eastern Asia, or everyday people from our neighborhood, God’s message of hope and healing is for all of us.
In Epiphany, we are challenged to be beacons of Christ, to let our light shine in the darkness, to be warm and welcoming to all who come seeking God’s light. Like candles in the windows of a home indicate hospitality offered, we are to be those candles to all who are drawn to visit us, at home and here at St Hilda St Patrick.
Many of us know from our own experiences what it feels like to be foreigners or outsiders in a new place. How confusing it can be to wonder which book to use, where to find the restroom, whether people will like us or receive the gifts we have to offer.
In this season of Epiphany, I invite you to see St Hilda St Patrick with the eyes of a guest. If you notice something that is confusing or not welcoming to a stranger in The Episcopal Church, please let me or one of the Bishop’s Committee members know so we can work on it. We ALL are ministers of hospitality, welcoming and assisting guests and newcomers to find a seat, the right book and page, and the restroom.
At St Hilda St Patrick we are a community of light-bearers, welcoming those who are drawn by the mystery and warmth of the star.
Life is too short to wait until the house is clean enough. To wait until the schedule settles down enough. To wait until you know those strangers a little better. Today is the feast of the Epiphany – when we gather in celebration of Christ being made know to the world – shared by the most unlikely and unexpected visitors, shared with us. God with us, God for us, God working to draw us together as his beloved community.
Arise, shine, for your light has come.
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