Friends, please pray with me:
Gracious Lord, God of wisdom, bless these words written here with your grace, that they may be heard as your own.
As we ring in another year, we are reminded of all the blessings that have been poured out for us over the past year. And we are presented with a new beginning. A page turn.
The Incarnate Christ has come to dwell among us and to make all things new! We feel this, right? The tradition of making new year’s resolutions: to lose weight, or to be happier… to recover a relationship or to write a memoir… to quit smoking or keep up on your email. The new year marks an opportunity to alter our path for the better.
Have you resolved yourself to start anything anew?
In today’s Gospel reading, Matthew’s gives us his unique account of the Magi’s visit to the Baby Jesus. The story is familiar to all of us full of significance and intrigue. Matthew writes primarily to affirm, to Jews and Gentiles alike of the universal significance of Christ’s coming: Christ came not only to save the Jews as their King, but to save all of humanity. This continues to captivate readers through the images like the star and rare treasures presented in homage, as well as the drama of Herod’s fear and intent to kill the infant that dares to threaten his power.
But I think the most compelling aspect of this story to me right now is the act of questing that the Wise Men undertook in the first place.
What made them leave? I mean, these were learned men. Seeing an astronomical anomaly wasn’t exactly a norm, but the heavens were their field of study and so some rarities were to be expected. The scientists of their day, these men held elevated positions in their respective societies and knew that what they saw might full-well be a planet or a passing comet… but there was something different this time… —what made them drop everything and start walking? Maybe another way of putting it is: what (or who) called them to leave what they knew behind, and quest for something greater?
Now, I know a lot about pilgrimage (which is usually a surefire way to assuring that I do not know very much about pilgrimage at all)—but let’s assume for the sake of this sermon that I have some significant understanding of the importance of pilgrimage for spiritual growth. I have been on a number of pilgrimages and each has taught me something I didn't expect, but each also taught me how fully reliant I am on God’s grace to get me through the muck.
Let me give you an example of muck. One year ago, I had just returned from a relatively short pilgrimage to Rome (Italy, not Georgia). As we prepared for the Taizé-Pine Ridge gathering last spring, I had been the unofficial group leader/coordinator of a group of 15 youngish adults on our way to Rome to formally invite the youth of Europe at the Taizé community’s annual European Meeting. I had grown to expect peace, contemplation, and rejuvenation from Taizé pilgrimage, that however was not what God had in store for me this time around.
To say that we lived in absolute chaos is an understatement. Our original group of 17 pilgrims, dropped down to 14 before departure, but arrived in Roma Fiumicino airport as 15, on 3 different flights. From there, almost everything that could have gone wrong did. Logistics were blown apart by the vast size of the city, no knowledge base, complete lack of coordination from the get-go, and no cell phones to boot.
Going into full detail would take all morning, suffice it to say: There is no reason whatsoever for our arriving in the same place, or returning home intact, except for divine intervention.
I am not proud of the way many events manifested on that trip; however, it did leave me with a lesson I relearn all too often: the results are out of my control. It was not within my capacity to insure everybody experienced something life-altering. That is not my gift to give. All I could do was prepare and strive to be present with others and their needs. As a result, I spent 6 (very close) days with Jesus, in a state of relative-panic—and in doing so, caught a glimpse of the divine.
It was not contemplative or peaceful, but it kept me moving; and on the rare occasion I looked up: the joy abounded! We rang in the New Year with other women and men from around world by dancing in the Italian streets and watching fireworks with the rapt awe of children.
… Humility at its finest.
I was so glad that the trip was over. Pilgrimage is rarely what you expect it to be. But in humility, there is an opportunity to touch something greater than yourself… to catch a glimpse eternity, as the wise men did when they beheld the face of the Baby Jesus.
But you must keep walking.
How hard it must have been for the Magi to continue. Let us not overlook the role of fear underlying this story. Although Matthew only attributes fear directly to Herod, there must have been an overwhelming amount of doubt felt by the Magi throughout their journey. Fear to leave, for sure, but also fear to change.
In the last year, the shape of our little St. Andrew's community’s landscape has been altered. We have experienced great triumphs and many losses. Perhaps presently, the losses are ringing out louder, especially as we laid our sister Ruth to rest only yesterday… she was a good part of our landscape, a testament to our culture, and to walk without her will mean change.
You know, Tradition has its merit. Memories are a gift. Our past perpetually informs who we are. But as a dynamic community of worshipers resisting opportunities can dig us into a rut of our own device. As we venture through our pilgrim’s path, the landscape inevitably changes. So long as we keep adjusting for the terrain, we can keep walking.
The amazing thing is that we are growing, even if it feels like we are only surviving.
Maybe it’s only evident to a person who is present sporadically, like myself, but our community I being transformed. We are growing into a new phase of our identity—and it is good! We do not have to run away, or fear. Sure, we are worry and doubt—what human doesn’t?—but there is no need. We are in good hands.
Good hands.
A pilgrim’s trail is full of uncertainty and doubt, mishaps and wrong-turns; but so too is the spirit in abundance. When we submit to the (sometimes ominous) idea that God might have a better path for us and follow a star, we humble ourselves. Isaiah tells us today to "Arise and Shine for our light has come", but earlier he promised us: “the people who have walk in the shadows and the dark, have seen a great light”. (9:2) Those who choose to carry on, upright, out of faith and not fear, will see the Light which was sent to guide us all.
Each week we are given the opportunity to restart—right here, at this table--not to backtrack, nor dwell in our inadequacies, but to eat. To be nourished for the journey that continues and does not end.
So friends, Eat. Breathe. Celebrate. Take comfort in knowing that you are not alone for any step of this crazy pilgrimage called life, and be fed.
Whatever star you follow in this new year, or whatever resolution you have set for yourself, be sure that it is not motivated by fear, but by love.
Like the Magi, we, upon our brush with the God of all Hope and Light, are prompted to continue our trek in a better way, by a different road... if only we have the courage to take it.
Amen.
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