Text: Matthew 2: 1-12 (for Epiphany)
Last Sunday, Christmas Day, our children arrived with Christmas gifts fresh on their minds and a few still in their arms. Stella, you’ll recall, brought with her the lovely Marie-Grace, a new doll. After reminding them that Christmas is the day we celebrate Jesus’ birth, I invited the children to draw pictures of gifts they might give Jesus if he were still a baby and if we could bring him birthday presents. I hope you saw their depictions of these gifts they left us to view under the Christmas tree. If not, I’ve brought them for you to appreciate today. Rather than the three gifts of the magi, we have today the four gifts of the children. Rather than gold, frankincense, and myrrh--we have a puppy, a journal (spelled jurnal), toys, and a smiling family. It’s possible our wise girls have given more wisely than the wise men.
Their creativity set me to imagining what Jesus needs from us. The children have creatively opened up a space for us to think about gifts you and I might offer in the coming year, gifts we might give in the name of Jesus, as if to Jesus. For millennia grateful humans have sought ways to express thanks to the Source of life’s goodness and beauty. The story of the magi is one such attempt to name what is most gift-worthy in this world and then to offer up our human gifts. The children have this week joined the company of those who have told stories and sung songs about God’s gifts to us and our gifts back to God. Yes, too often we’ve heard “The Little Drummer Boy” cliché about simple gifts. But the particularity and freshness in our children’s artistic choices deserve attention. Besides, as we say in the United Church of Christ, God is still speaking. Especially in this season of the Christ Child, we need to listen to the children.
And maybe they are teaching us to give God the equivalent of a puppy, a journal, some toys, and a smiling family.
When I suggest we resolve for this new year to offer God a dog, I’m not talking about animal sacrifice! You may need a moment to consider what it could mean to offer Jesus a puppy. I’ve taken a clue from Chloe’s illustration. She heads her drawing: “A Friend for Jesus.” What little boy wouldn’t want such a friend, especially a boy born among the friendly beasts of the manger? Some of you may have seen the photograph posted on Facebook recently of an outdoor, life-size nativity scene into which a stray dog had wandered. In the manger filled with real hay, the dog had found a comfy bed on a cold night. The picture shows the homeless animal curled up companionably next to the plastic baby Jesus, both apparently sound asleep in the manger.
Over and over again, Jesus called his disciples “friends.” What if we follow Jesus as faithfully this year as man’s best friend: trotting after Jesus as he feeds the hungry, loyally learning lessons of kindness, depending on our master for spiritual food and not worrying about tomorrow? A dog does not need to believe certain ideas about the universe in order to adore his human friend. A dog simply loves and learns and follows. What if we, my friends, become better friends of Jesus by following him more closely this year? To follow Jesus from the distance of all these years might require us to learn more about his life and to be more attuned to his loving Spirit still moving in this world.
Our children also want to give Jesus a journal, and that gift perhaps surprised me the most. Jesus--the Word made flesh, the Logos, that story teller extraordinaire--might have indeed appreciated a journal in which to explore his developing identity and mission taking shape in words. Journaling is a rewarding spiritual practice worth considering for this new year. Spiritual journaling is not a personal diary of events. It’s a way to reflect theologically on questions that arise from life experiences worth pondering. Maybe Jesus’s pondering mother modeled for him a pondering disposition. Surely Jesus could not have had much worth sharing with others if he’d not first developed a passion for pondering. If there’s interest, I would be glad to lead a spiritual journaling class. The current proliferation of blogs, an electronic and very public version of journaling, shows how universal is this impulse. As one writer has said, “How do I know what I think until I write it?” I would add, “How do I know what I should do until I reflect on it?” One basic question to prompt pondering is this: Where is God at work in the world, and how may I join in that work? Theological reflection leads to action. And actions for peace and justice should always lead us back to prayerful reflection.
Our children would also have brought toys to Mary and Joseph’s child: some crayons and coloring book, a ball, and a colorful patchwork quilt where the baby might play. One of the noncanonical gospels includes a fascinating legend about Jesus making clay pigeons to play with as a child. Even children in the harshest circumstances improvise games. And the clever humor of the adult Jesus shows he had a playful mind. Though often fatigued by his ministry, he did take moments to get away from the crowds and find ways to rejuvenate. I think the boy Jesus would have loved some crayons. Creativity is a gift he surely appreciated. How else could he have envisioned such a paradigm-shifting path for peace and justice? Creativity is a gift we can cultivate. One form of keeping Sabbath is to engage in play. Recreation is a spiritual practice, too. Recreation means literally re-creation. Our spirits, made in the image of Creator God, are reborn by playful, inventive, coloring-outside-the-lines activity. Our society can be radically altered if we can stretch our holy imaginations and envision a world yet to be.
Finally, Stella and Chloe suggest to us that we gift Jesus with a smiling family. The drawing shows the stable within which a smiling Mary and Joseph are bending over a child in a manger as a lamb looks on in the foreground. Again, Chloe assists us with a caption: The single word love is printed atop the stable. The parents smile. But they are looking out at us. They invite us into this warm scene. Family love is not locked up in a stable. It spills out onto others looking in. It in fact invites others in. Family love—and love within a church family--is intimate without being isolating.
In the words of Christina Rosetti:
Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, love divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and angels gave the sign.
. . . .
Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and neighbor,
Love for plea and gift and sign.
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and neighbor,
Love for plea and gift and sign.
Perhaps the way we offer this familial love back to Jesus is by working on our family relationships. In this new year, we might be more appreciative of our partners, children, parents, siblings, extended family, or those who are family-by-choice. We can forgive more readily, listen more deeply and empathetically, guard our words, and ground what we do say in honesty and compassion. We can keep a sense of humor. That would be a gift for Jesus!
Stella and Chloe envisioned 4 beautiful gifts that rival the gold, frankincense and myrrh of the Magi. The puppy speaks to me about following faithfully; the journal, about reflecting theologically; the crayons, about living creatively; and the family, about loving boundlessly.
In their artful imaginings, Chloe and Stella join the ranks of artists who’ve asked themselves what THEY would give the Christ child. That’s the question I posed to you at the start of the sermon. And if you’ve still not come up with an answer, here are other ways of asking the question:
What is the very best gift you have to offer in this world?
What gifts do you make to Divine Love?
Is there something deep and good and true that you offer up to whatever you consider to be the Ultimate? How do you do that? What does it look like when you kneel before the Sacred?
Certainly it doesn’t mean praying to the Baby Jesus, as Will Ferrell’s character did in the inane comedy, Talladega Nights. I’m quoting from the least offensive parts of a cinematic prayer that now lives in infamy. In this scene, Ricky Bobby, a famous race car driver, is seated with his family at the dining room table cluttered with boxes of fast food.
He starts to pray: Dear Lord Baby Jesus, or as our brothers to the south call you, Jesús, we thank you so much for this bountiful harvest of Domino’s, KFC, and the always delicious Taco Bell. I just want to take time to say thank you for my family, my two beautiful, beautiful, handsome, striking sons, Walker and Texas Ranger, or T.R. as we call him, and of course, my red-hot smoking wife, Carley who is a stone-cold fox. . . . Dear Lord Baby Jesus, we also thank you for my wife’s father, Chip. We hope that you can use your Baby Jesus powers to heal him . . .
His wife Carley interrupts at this point: Hey, you know, sweetie, Jesus did grow up. You don’t always have to call him “baby.” It’s a bit odd and off-putting to pray to a baby.
Ricky: Well, I like the Christmas Jesus best and I’m saying grace. When you say grace you can say it to grownup Jesus, or teenage Jesus, or bearded Jesus or whoever you want.
Carley: You know what I want? I want you to do this grace good so that God will let us win tomorrow. ….
Ricky: Okay. Dear 8-pound, 6-ounce newborn infant Jesus, don’t even know a word yet, just a little infant and so cuddly, but still omnipotent, we just thank you for all the races I’ve won and the 21.2 million dollars – woo!– love that money, that I have accrued over this past season. Also, due to a binding endorsement contract that stipulates I mention Powerade at each grace, I just want to say that Powerade is delicious and it cools you off on a hot summer day. And we look forward to Powerade’s release of Mystic Mountain Blueberry. Thank you for all your power and your grace, dear baby God. Amen.
Enough with idiotic prayers to the baby Jesus! And enough with Eastern potentates paying obeisance to a baby! By that I mean if you think kneeling before a child, or the Author of Life, requires groveling and self-debasement, give that up. Enough with thinking Jesus, who taught meekness and called his disciples “friends,” ever wanted to be worshiped. Do you think Gandhi or King or Mother Theresa or your saintly grandmother ever wanted people to kneel before them? Didn’t Jesus constantly point people beyond himself to God? Wasn’t his ministry all about being a gate that could swing open for those on a path toward union with that which is ultimate and good? Wasn’t his life, death, and resurrection a revelation or image of the purest Love we can fathom? I don’t think Jesus requires our ecstatic praise or our humble bows--though our hearts understandably move in that direction on our way to the ultimate goal.
I want a grown up spirituality that springs from, rather than gets mired in, a generative but limited biblical metaphor. I want a grown up faith that requires me to discipline my mind and offer up my best self to the things that matter in the world. I want to offer up my life to the purposes of Divine Love. I want to be self-forgetting enough to care more about universal purposes than my petty problems. We worship Jesus by assigning worth to his life and following his ways.
Let’s get back to the wise men. They came to worship Jesus, perhaps misunderstanding—as did King Herod—that the Christ would supplant an earthly king. From the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel we see this confusion. It eventually cost Jesus his life, though it would take another ruler’s order 33 years later to exact it. Stuck in their old paradigms of power, Jesus’s enemies could only see him as a threat, and even his friends could not imagine a nonviolent way to address injustice and usher in God’s reign of peace. What if Jesus does not need our obeisance? What if Jesus instead prompts our love and followship? I think the gifts of the wise girls are just the things he’d have loved and used.
Today’s Gospel reading concludes as the Magi are warned in a dream not to report back to Herod, not to go through the old imperial channels, but to return to their home countries instead “by another road.”
Friends, let us leave the manger today and walk into a brand new year using a different road. Choosing a new path for 2012 might allow us--as a congregation and individuals--to follow Jesus more faithfully, to reflect more deeply, to play more creatively, and to love more boundlessly. Thanks be to God.
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