(Preached Sunday, January 3, 2010)
Although I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given to me to bring to the Gentiles the news of the boundless riches of Christ, and to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things; so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places. -Ephesians 3:8-10
The New Year’s Eve party at the Campbell’s was always a highlight of the year for Tom Stone. They really knew how to throw a party. This year’s party had been no exception. As the old saying goes, “A good time was had by all.” When the party was over in the wee hours of the New Year, Tom Stone walked home. The neighborhood was safe enough though it was bounded by some tough places. On his way home he had to walk right through one of those troubled places. Walking gingerly he kept his eyes peeled in all directions for any signs of trouble. He didn’t see any. He was almost through the rough spot when he thought he saw what looked to be a man’s body on the street ahead. Tom approached carefully. What to do? Dare he get involved with this beaten man in this godforsaken place? His mind flashed back to the New Year’s Eve party at the Campbell’s house. When someone asked him what his New Year’s resolution was he had said he would like to be a more caring person. It was like God planted this beaten body on the streets of his city to test his New Year’s resolve to care. But a resolution is a resolution. Tom would see what he could do for the man.
Slowly and carefully Tom made his way over to the man. There was no movement from the man. It appeared he had been severely beaten, stripped of his clothes, and robbed. His only communication was groaning sighs. Tom looked at the beaten, wounded and naked man with compassion. With his cell phone he called 911 and accompanied the man to the emergency room of the nearby hospital. Once he saw that the man would be well taken care of he finally went home.
When Tom awoke the next afternoon his first thoughts were of the man he had encountered the night before. He decided he ought to go to the hospital and see how he was doing. Standing in the man’s room, there was an awkward silence at first. The man was awake. “I recognize your face,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re the man who helped me last night. When I saw your face then I thought it must be the face of Jesus.” Tom mulled these words over, not knowing what to say. He rehearsed for himself the reason he had stopped to help this man the night before. It was the New Year’s resolution, of course. And it was even more particular than that. He had vowed to be a more caring person. He had vowed to serve Jesus in Jesus’ time of need. A passage from Matthew’s gospel haunted his consciousness: “Inasmuch as you did it to the least of these my brothers and sisters, you did it to me,” Jesus had said. That’s why he had stopped to help the beaten man. Tom was lost in his thoughts on these matters when the man in the bed whispered again: “When I saw your face I thought it must be the face of Jesus.” “No,” Tom replied, “it’s quite the other way around. When I saw your face in that godforsaken place and heard your groaning and found you beaten, wounded, stripped naked and robbed, I thought you must be Jesus.”
That is the truth which Paul proclaimed to the Ephesians. It is why the great story of the feast of Epiphany on January 6 is the visit by the magi from the East. As much as we try to include them in our Christmas Eve celebrations and our nativity scenes, they never quite seem to fit. They are always the odd men out: with their outlandish clothes, their spectacular gifts, their late arrival. The magi seem very out of place in that rustic, familial scene. But on Epiphany, they fit right in. For the great light that Epiphany shines on our world is the truth that the reign of God embraces the “holy irregularities.” No follower of Jesus can look at another human being and name that person “alien,” “stranger,” “not at all our type of people.” The light from the manger reveals that there is but one people. We are all heirs of the mystery. We all share in the promise: the great mercy, grace and love of God that is present and active always in each and every one of us. We are all Epiphany people!
Paul speaks of this insight as a “mystery.” The mystery of God’s plan, hidden for ages, but now revealed in Christ, that all people are God’s people; that we are all creatures of light; that unity in creation is God’s desire; that God loves us all and has given us an unsearchable gift in Christ Jesus; and that Jesus has come to call forth from within each of us that being of light, so that the light might grow stronger and stronger in the world, banishing forever the darkness. This is who we are – an Epiphany people, an Epiphany reality, a manifestation of the light of God’s love for us and for all people. But what does it mean to be Epiphany people?
It means first and foremost that we need to be imaginative. In the early 1990’s a U.S. bishop returned from a trip to Africa, where he spent time discussing the issue of the ordaining of women with African bishops who were opposed to the idea. He made an interesting observation: “Their objections seemed to be less theologically based than I supposed. It was more that they could not imagine a woman in that role. They cannot do what they cannot imagine.”
God works through imagination. What we cannot imagine, we cannot do. We must nurture our imaginations. Without imagination there is no hope. A person who cannot imagine wellness may never attain it. A married couple who cannot imagine joy together may never experience it. A nation which cannot imagine healthcare for all people will continue to be sick. A world which cannot imagine peace will continue in violence.
One of the ways we nurture our imagination is through a regular practice of prayer. Prayerfulness has us open the door to a new way of seeing and living. Actress Liv Ullman once shared the following deeply felt sentiment: “I am learning that if I just go on accepting the framework for life that others have given me, if I fail to make my own choices, the reasons for my life will be missing. I will be unable to recognize that which I have the power to change. I refuse to spend my life regretting the things I failed to do.” It is through prayerfulness that our imagination is exercised and stretched. It is through prayerfulness that we can begin to realize a new world as we begin by imagining it and then see and act it into being. It was through prayerfulness that John, when exiled on the island of Patmos, imagined that great vision of a new heaven and a new earth which he recorded in the Book of Revelation.
The New Year is an ideal time for embarking on a new practice of prayer and of exercising imagination by rejecting the framework others and the world at large have set up for you. You might do that by beginning to imagine what small things you can do today that may seem silly in the eyes of the world but intuitively you know you would like to do. Maybe it is to: smile at a colleague who never greets you; or, write a few lines of freestyle poetry; or, visit a little town you have always wanted to see; or, pray at a time you normally don’t; or, study something “totally useless”; or, lie down on your back and look up at the clouds. The list can be endless. The practice will begin to expand the power of your imagination, the scope and reach of your prayers, and the embracing of your role as an Epiphany person. What would you add to that list that you would like to do in this New Year?
As we embrace our role as Epiphany people the world will be changed. It is through God’s people that the world will see God’s radiance. Epiphany reminds us that the people of God exist solely to celebrate the glory of God and reflect that glory in the world. When we reflect the light of God into the world around us, then all people will more fully know the love, forgiveness and magnificence of God.
This is an awesome responsibility. It means our lives and our actions truly have cosmic import beyond our own self-centered reality. That thought can be overwhelming. But it need not paralyze us, for it is not solely dependent upon us. We are not the initiators of the light, but the reflectors. The light originates from God and flows through our lives into the world. This means that even small actions of faithfulness on our part have far-reaching implications.
It is said that Saint Ciaran of Clonmacnoise (Ireland) arrived in about 544 at a site now revered as holy throughout Ireland – the plain near the River Shannon, where he founded the monastery. He then lived only about 18 months, dying of a plague. His legacy however – passed on from abbot to abbot, monk to monk – flourished until 1522. There is still an active congregation of the Church of Ireland on the site. Pope John Paul II celebrated mass there in 1979 for thousands. Those monks who received Ciaran’s vision and good news not only accepted it, but passed it on for centuries. The festival of Epiphany is not just about God revealed, but about the passing on of that revelation to the whole cosmos. To be Epiphany people is not only to be bathed in the light of God – knowing ourselves to be loved and accepted – but to also share that light with others, inviting them into the light to know themselves as loved and accepted by God as well. With prayerfulness, and strong imaginations, we can be used by God far beyond our natural abilities. After all, we are Epiphany people.