Isaiah 60:1-2, Matt 2:2-3

If someone says they had an “epiphany,” in all likelihood they meant they had received some new insight, some new revelation, something that came completely from out of the blue, that allowed them see things differently.

But on this first Sunday in the season of Epiphany that is not exactly how it is used.  Epiphany means “appearance,” which is how it is used in the New Testament in terms of Christ's “appearing” in judgment at the end of history--this was the apostle Paul's favorite term for what we often call “the second coming” of Christ.

In terms of the liturgical year, Epiphany refers to the appearance of the star in the east, that lead the Magi, the wise men to the Christ child with their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

Because the Magi are traditionally included in Nativity scenes bringing their gifts, we have come to expect their presence, and I dare say treat it as if it were historical fact.

They add a dash of splendor and intrigue to the story.  Their inclusion gives a feel for the exotic. We can almost smell the spices in the air. Moreover, they affirm the royalty of the homeless child whose first crib was feeding trough for livestock.

But go with me for a moment, suppose the Magi were not who Matthew said they were?  Would it damage your faith?  I raise this questions because there is historical evidence to suggest they were not as Matthew portrays them.

In fact, Old Testament readings suggests Magi were the ancient equivalent of astrologers and star-gazers, people who tried to get the hang of present and future events by reading what was in the stars.

Some might go as far as to say they were charlatans. The Old Testament actually condemns them as idolatrous deceivers who are to be avoided by so-called godly folk. 

I raise this because if you need the Epiphany to be drawn up for you exactly the way Matthew describes it, you may be in for a rude awakening.  If you need the star of the Christ-child to appear as it appeared to the Magi in order to experience your Epiphany, you’re going to be disappointed, disillusioned, and perhaps disgruntled.

You will have nothing to drawn on, when times get tough, when life is uncertain, and when your well thought out plans unexpectedly come apart.

You must have a faith to withstand the words William Butler Yeates, in his poem, The Second Coming, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”  I would make a slight revision to suggests, for those who believe, that mere anarchy would be loosed upon our soul.

But Epiphany is not based on the exactness of Mathews’s story, it is based on the exactness of our heart. Epiphany is the appearance of the Christ child into a world searching for its demagnetized moral compass. 

Epiphany is the affirmative answer to the question that so many of us ask when our lives are filled with material stuff, when society looks at us from afar simultaneously with admiration and envy thinking we’ve got it all together, not knowing that in the privacy of our own soul we are asking: is there anymore to life than this?

Epiphany is the clarion call that Isaiah sends forth this morning, arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.  Epiphany is our wakeup call to actively engage in a fallen creation as agents of transformation thereby renewing our own spirit.

Light and darkness are contrasting spiritual symbols.  Light is in fellowship with God, while darkness denotes being apart from God.  God’s nature is light, in whom there is no darkness at all. 

That’s why John reminds us, “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness comprehended it not.”  Thus, we are persuaded by the light—that the light is itself the manifestation of God’ love, grace, and mercy.

When nations come to Jerusalem’s light, they arrive at the knowledge of the Lord and God’s righteousness.  As we see in the Matthew text, the Magi were not only drawn to the direction of the light, but also to its righteousness.

If Jerusalem’s light dwells within you, there is no reason that will prohibit others from the following the path that leads them to the knowledge of the Lord and God’s righteousness.

The season of Epiphany, on the heels of the season after Christmas, and the season of Advent, which ushers in a renewal of joy, hope, peace, and love is the light that transcends the fundamentalist contours of good and evil, church dogma, and false legalistic piety. 

By its goodness the light makes darkness subservient.  And while it may appear that darkness is winning the public relation campaign as we watch the evening news that tells us that Africa is chaos, the Middle East is in disarray, China is becoming as arrogant as America, the planet is on fire, our children are not prepared, and many of our urban areas are out of control, the goodness of the light, manifested by the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ still dictates the moral order of humankind.

For the appearance of Christ, the light of the Lord has descended upon our heart, it has illuminated our soul.  I don’t have to tell you that darkness will cover the earth—that evil will not go away without a fight.

We witnessed this week the seductive way that the darkness of America’s original sin of racism rears its ugly head.  Several pundits made the point after Barack Obama handily defeated Hilary Clinton in the Iowa caucus that this may indicate that the country is not ready for a woman to be president.  Could it be that simple?

How about the fact that a state that is 97% white, mostly rural, seeing its manufacturing base evaporate, seeing towns suffering that were created around major industries that have closed down and taken their jobs with them, is more concerned with grabbing the lifeline of hope than the percentage of melanin in one’s skin or the their specific gender.

That’s how darkness covers the abyss, in a historical moment that saw the nation turn ever so slightly, closer toward the Jeffersonian creed that we hold these truths to be self-evident that all are created equal; ever so slightly, closer to Lincoln’s vision that we cannot survive half slave and half free; ever so slightly, closer to the soliloquy offered by Martin Luther King on a hot August afternoon in 1963, that his children grow up in a world where they will not be judge them by the color of their skin but by the content of the character, darkness wants to question if the country is ready for woman president.

We see how the shadow of darkness hovers over countries ravaged by war, poverty, disease, and hopelessness.  We see the tentacles of darkness in the form of corporate greed tightening around the necks of middle class families here and poor families abroad.

We see the influence of darkness in urban public schools, and how it spills over into our streets in the form of violence and hopelessness.

We see how the shadow of darkness, which is at the root of our pain, our frustration, our lament, can infiltrate the souls of those we love.

But the text reminds us that our light has come, our hope has arrived, our redemption is at hand. The energy producing sensation of brightness, the source of illumination, the revelation of knowledge, the daily reminder that we are to embark on a new day, a new beginning, that which will lead us without failure along the path of darkness and uncertainty, and our ability to see in a new way is revealed to us in the birth of the Christ child.

But one of the most effective tools that darkness has at its disposal is the seductive weapon of fear. Notice if you will in the Mathew text, verse 3 reads, “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him.”

Verse 3 suggests to me that all of Jerusalem is ripe for the evil of darkness.  Fear tricks us into looking externally, rather than internally. It provides us with a clear conscience to justify evil.

Well meaning Germans justified the Holocaust, well meaning Americans justified Japanese interment camps during WWII, well meaning white folks justified Jim Crow, well meaning Christians justify homophobia, and well meaning patriotic Americans today justify ignoring the Constitution because of their post 9/11 fears.

Fear will keep you spiritually stagnant; fear will cause self-inflicted wounds; fear will keep you mean spirited and cold hearted; fear will make life a predictable routine rather than an unpredictable adventure.

There is no spiritual growth in fear, no grace, no mercy, no love, no forgiveness, no compassion, no hope, no possibility, no Epiphany, and therefore no Jesus.

Fear taps in to our bigotry, opens the floodgates to division, makes us immune to any self-reflective impulses, and encourages our hatred.   To paraphrase Sloane Coffin, fear causes us to use the bible the way a drunk uses a lamp post—always for support, and never for illumination.

When we are cloaked in fear we cannot see the light that has shined since the beginning of time.  But just because we are unable to see it, does not mean that the light is not shining.

The light was shining while Pharaoh heart was still hardened. The light was shining, while nobody was listening to Jeremiah.  

The light was shining, while Peter was denying Jesus.  The light was shining, while Paul was on his way to upset church.  The light was shining, before Mary got to the tomb.

The light was shining even during the Spanish Inquisition. The light was shining even during slavery. The light was shining even during the “Trail of Tears.”

The light was shining even during Jim Crow. The light was shining even when women couldn’t vote. The light was shining even during the Holocaust and Apartheid.

The light was shining when you didn’t have a dime.  The light was shining when your relationship was coming apart at the seams. The light was shining as you laid on your bed of affliction not knowing if you were going to make it.

The light was shining as you toiled like John the Baptist, isolated and confused, wondering if Jesus was the right one or should you look for another.

The light was shining so everyone could see that there is a hope that is superior to whatever challenges confronts them; there is a joy that no tragedy could not eliminate, and that there is a fire that burns deep within our soul that no bush real or figurative can consume.

For that light that has come, that collectively calls us to rise and shine and that the glory of the Lord has risen upon us is an inclusive light that is not bound by race, gender, sexual orientation, age, health, occupation, tax bracket, zip code, or education level.

The inclusive nature of the light, open to whoever wants to receive it, provides second chances, even after darkness has declared that we are guilty.

Long after darkness has presented us with a life sentence with no possibility of parole, the inclusive nature of the light renders such verdicts as null and void.

The season of Epiphany also reminds us that darkness and light have very different agendas.

Darkness wants to destroy, while the light wants to build.   Darkness wants to hate, while the light wants to love.  Darkness wants to fracture hope, while the light wants to restore hope.

Darkness takes life, while the light gives life.  Darkness wants fragments, while the light wants fullness.  Darkness wants to cause cancer, while light wants to cure cancer.

Darkness divides folk, while the light unifies folks.  Darkness wants you to hunger for greed, while the light wants you to thirst for righteousness. 

Darkness wants war with Iraq, while the light wants a lasting peace.  Darkness wants tax cuts for the rich, while the light wants economic justice for the poor.  Darkness wants to corrupt folk, but the light calls sinners into repentance.

Darkness wants to blame, while the light wants to forgive.  Darkness seeks unkindness, while the light seeks grace.  Darkness seeks cruelty, while the light seeks mercy.   Darkness believes in three strikes, while the light believes in second chances.

Darkness believes in bad news, while the light believes in good news.  Darkness believes that Jesus was sent here to make you rich, while the light believes that Jesus was sent to set the captives free. 

Darkness wants you to stay right here in the church, but the light wants you to go down to the Jericho road of need.

Darkness doesn’t understand that Carlisle was right, that no lie can live forever. Darkness doesn’t understand that Martin King was right that the moral arc of the universe is long but it bends toward justice.  Darkness doesn’t understand that James Russell Lowell was right, truth forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne, yet the scaffold sways the future.

Darkness doesn’t understand that Micah was right do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.

Darkness doesn’t understand that Isaiah was right Thou will keep those in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on God.

Darkness doesn’t understand that Paul was right I do not consider the suffering of this present time to be compared with glory that’s about to be revealed.

The Epiphany has been revealed, the Christ-child has been born, the light still shines, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon us.  This is our wake up call Resurrection. 

Arise, shine, give God the glory, for a world still covered in the shadows of darkness and uncertainty needs to see the God that has been manifested in you.  Amen