Readings: Isaiah 60:1-6; Matthew 2:1-12
What star are you following?
On this New Year’s Day, just a few days before the liturgical celebration of the Epiphany of the Magi, it seems an appropriate question to contemplate. What star are we following? Where are we going and what guidance are we choosing to take in our life journeys – both separately and together as a community of faith? Where do we imagine our steps taking us into 2012 and beyond?
If we were ancient sailors our route would have been set by the stars. Today pilots – and drivers of cars – rely on other means of navigation. As we step out into the unknown of each new year, new day, new hour, do we pause to wonder what it is that guides us in our decision making? For instance, as we set out to come to church this morning, did we consciously think about the theological star – the God-shaping GPS, or Google map - that we were following? Did we consider the choices we were making– for instance, choosing for a moment not New Year sales, but worship; not the community gathering at the beach, but the community following Christ?
What star are we following?
Of course, it is possible for us to be misled. There are stars – or signs that look like stars – that will not lead us to the Christ child. When our children were little, we lived in the United States, not very far from Los Angeles. The heavy pollution ensured that not one star could be seen in the skies above. Shortly after our return to NZ, we were driving from Christchurch to Oamaru one night. Lying in the back seat of the car and looking out at the vast wonderful starry night, our five year old cried out in delight –“look at all those aeroplanes!” Two years of living in a polluted city without stars, had made a mark on the lives of our children: lights in the sky were always aeroplanes.
Some stars that we may choose to follow may turn out to be only aeroplanes. False stars do not lead to Christ.
And, in this day and age, we certainly need some stars that will bring us the hope, joy, love and peace as promised by the Christmas story. For we live in a world where there is great fear: terrifying earthquakes and storms which rip away people’s homes, appalling abuse against defenceless children in their homes and in holiday parks, atrocious greed of financiers robbing ordinary people and poor nations of all hope. Fear, of what has happened; fear of what is happening; fear of what might happen. Fear often drives everything that we do; fear can often be the false star we follow.
While we were living in Australia, we noticed how the level of fear increased in that nation through a process of heightening distrust of those who were different. As Australia joined the American war in Iraq and Afghanistan; as asylum seekers sought refuge in a so-called ‘lucky country’; the government mounted an anti-terrorist campaign: “Be alert, not alarmed” we were urged. There were television and newspaper advertisements – and even fridge magnets distributed to every household. “Be alert, not alarmed’ Alert to what, you may ask – a very good question. Apparently, the whole nation, needed to be on alert - we were directed to fear the unknown other, to protect our interests, and especially our borders. It was noticeable that distrust, fear and suspicion increased; outbreaks of inter-racial violence became more common.
In Luke’s gospel, the message of the Christmas narrative to shepherds – those on the edges of society – was “don’t be afraid – I bring you good tidings of great joy.” In Matthew’s gospel, the narrative describes outsiders, who knew how to act fearlessly, in spite of facing some huge challenges. Matthew’s Magi are strangers, foreigners – from Eastern lands, priests, on a risky journey – following their star, traveling to Jerusalem, a centre of power. Traditions record that astrologer-priests, like the ones in Matthew’s story, destabilized power with their threatening predictions. The Magi’s question ‘where is the king of the Jews’ – and their intention to bow down in homage to that new king – are revolutionary. These strange outsiders fearlessly enter another’s territory and offer their allegiance not to ruler Herod, not to the Imperial powers of Rome, but to another king – the one born of the Jews. Jerusalem’s elite has reason to be frightened. Imagine some wise diplomats, bearing rich gifts, coming from China to visit the White House asking “Where is the child who has been born President of the United States of America? For we have received tweets and texts of his birth and we have come to give him our allegiance.”
King Herod was alert to such suspicious characters. He called in the religious experts – and when he heard what they had to say, he quickly moved from alert to very alarmed. This new king, whose birth had already been predicted so many years before, presented a huge threat to his kingdom and his power. But those strangers from the East were faithful to the star they followed – and were not tricked by his cunning. These wise astrologer-priests recognized the corrupt king before them; choosing to seek another king, about whom they knew very little – but whose future was written in the stars that they studied.
And while Herod was plotting all kinds of terror, the star-followers entered the realm of delight.
Matthew tells it this way: “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.”
Even in the midst of corruption, terror and uncertainty, these wise ones encountered unimaginable joy. Is that our experience? It is a deep sadness to me that in so many churches one finds no joy present at all (and often those where there is some expression of happiness, it is very superficial and unable to deal with the fears that come from the tough parts of life). Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the great German theologian and martyr understood this joy. He once wrote that “the physical presence of other Christians is a source of incomparable joy and strength to the believer.”[1] And yet, we might well ask: where has the joy gone? I dare to suggest, if we don’t know what star we are following, it is unlikely that joy will overwhelm us. Bonhoeffer suggests that a religious fellowship of devout souls may be more a human community than a spiritual one. Perhaps, in our churches today we are seduced into looking for good programmes, mission statements and outstanding leaders; arguing about what hymns we sing and the hurts we have received from each other; following aeroplanes rather than stars that lead to Christ. Bonhoeffer suggests, rather starkly, that the only reason Christians come together is because of Jesus Christ. The great blessings and joys of Christian community come solely because of our discipleship. “Bonhoeffer believed that our troubled world could be transformed by a believing church. But he held that this could only be possible when the church itself was transformed into the likeness of Christ.”[2] The light of the star leads us to Christ so that we may worship God and become the Body of Christ. When we follow the star – coming together as companions focussed on Christ – we too will experience deep and overwhelming joy.
What star are you following?
This story of the Magi, told by Matthew, invites us to learn from these wise ones, who have taken great risks in their star-following: they enter other countries, engage with other faiths and political powers, in their search for the one they understand will offer a new way of living – a new way of believing, a new way of ruling. After their encounter with cunning and dishonest Herod, the magi return home by “another way” – presumably not merely geographically. They return to a new and different way of relating with life – they have a new way of seeing.
My prayer for us, in this year into which we step today, is that we will continue to seek, identify and follow the stars which lead us into new Christ-like ways of seeing things. And as we do that together, I am convinced we will be led into a way of living and being that fills us with an overwhelming joy – a joy that will carry us right through the year, no matter what difficulties and challenges might lie ahead. Thanks be to God. Amen
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