Monday, January 5, 2015

Sermon for the Festival of Epiphany

Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on January 4, 2015
Sermon text: Matthew 2:1-12


The star of Bethlehem has been a mystery to scholars for generations. Some have dismissed it as mere legend; that the whole birth narratives that Luke and Matthew have written for Jesus are mere fabrication and myth. In other words, there is no star of Bethlehem. Others have argued that Matthew embellished his story; Jesus was certainly born, but the magi were little more than travelling merchants and not the royal astrologers the story makes them out to be.

I’m not adverse to believing Matthew did a little embellishing to his birth narrative, but I’m not so quick to dismiss the account of the magi and the star quite so easily. After all, I have been, at various points in my life, an astronomy buff. I love the stars, the planets, the various phenomena in the heavens, and in their myriad and wondrous variety I am convinced that there is something that God made use of to draw those ancient star-gazers to the cradle of Christ.

I am not alone in that desire. Other astronomers have engaged in this effort as well and there are numerous theories as to what exactly the star of Bethlehem was: a supernova, a comet, or perhaps the most intriguing theory: a planetary conjunction.

Now, if you’re on Facebook or other social media websites, you’ve probably heard of this particular astronomical occurrence. There is a rumor circulating that there is to be a conjunction today and that the planets will all line up in a straight line and their combined gravity will cause all of us to float in mid-air for around five minutes this afternoon.

People can be very clever with Photoshop.

To those looking forward to this oddity, I have to inform you that gravity does not work that way, nor is there a conjunction scheduled for today. But the planets do, at times, line up and to those looking up in the night sky they would see not two or three planets separate (which look like stars to the uninitiated), but one single point of light. Or perhaps a pattern, a line of “stars” pointing, let’s say, to the Western horizon.

Well, these conjunctions take place with some regularity as the planets orbit around our sun, making their occurrences quite predictable. And there are two such events that would have taken place around 6 to 7 BC when Jesus was likely born (Jesus was not born in year 1, by the way.)  Two planetary alignments that occurred in the constellation of Pisces (long associated with the Hebrew people) in those years that might have been what those magi of the East gazed up and interpreted as a sign of the birth of a king.

So what does all this mean?

Well, in one sense, not a whole lot. It is an intriguing bit of astronomical trivia. It is not proof or confirmation that the Bible is historically accurate or factually solid (it usually isn’t). I don’t engage in this exercise seeking that sort of certainty. What I find in this bit of trivia however is something I believe is a great deal more profound.

In an astronomical sense, a planetary conjunction is a very routine event, no more unusual or unique than a clock striking 12 each day at noon and midnight. They happen all the time. The two that astronomers have uncovered as the likely source of the Star of Bethlehem occur roughly every 800 or so years and the next one will be visible to us around the year 2300 or so. The Star of Bethlehem will return. It has returned and it will continue returning for as long as the solar system exists. Like clockwork. Utterly ordinary. In some ways, even boring.

God didn’t make the star of Bethlehem occur. Of course, he created the stars and the planets, but in this circumstance he didn’t have to do anything extra to create this herald star. Nature in his own time would do that on its own. What God did do was take this ordinary routine astronomical event and turn into something he could use to announce the birth of his son to those sorcerers and fortune-tellers of old. He took something ordinary and made something extraordinary out of it.

Behind me, surrounding the altar here at Canadochly, are the myriad symbols and items of our own gifts and talents. God has gifted each one of us with skills and talents, knowledge and ability. What is presented here is but a small sample of what we are capable of. There is so much more hidden within the bodies and minds of all of you.

But in our midst, I’m guessing there are not any secret Picassos or Mozarts, no Oliviers or Edisons. We’re good, but we’re not that good. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing sublime. In most every congregation or social setting in our society, you can likely find others who share our gifts who are our equals or perhaps even our betters. We’re quite ordinary.

Or, at least we are until God gets a hold of us. And then something wondrous happens.

Time and again, we see this happen in the Scriptures. Moses stuttered and yet God made of him a liberator for his people. David was the youngest of his brothers, so insignificant that his father didn’t even bother to summon him from the sheepfold when the great prophet Samuel came calling, yet he would become a king. The magi were pagan magicians and astrologers, yet God used them to announce the coming of his son. What will God do with you and I?

No, perhaps that’s the wrong question. Better to ask instead, what can’t he do with us? I don’t know, but as this new year dawns, I’m eager to find out. Amen.

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