“Home Again”-- Nehemiah 8:1-3,5-6,8-10, Luke 4:14-21 -- Jan. 27, 2013

The lesson from Hebrew scripture and the Gospel lesson that have been paired together today describe what has become a familiar scene for us–the reading of Scripture to a gathered community and an interpretation or teaching of it.  Ezra the priest reads the law of Moses to the people of Israel, recently returned from exile, who have gathered in the square facing the Water Gate.  Jesus returns to his home synagogue, after being baptized and tested in the wilderness, and is handed the scroll with the prophet Isaiah on it, a portion of which he reads to them, concluding with “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

It’s what we do every Sunday morning here–someone reads a portion of our tradition’s Scriptures–usually one from our Hebrew tradition and one from the Christian testament–and they often conclude that reading by saying, “May God add understanding to the hearing of this word” or “This is the gospel of Jesus Christ, and this is good news!” or “Listen to what the Spirit is saying to the church.”  Our more liturgical brothers and sisters say, “This is the word of the Lord.” And the response is,   “Thanks be to God!” and, after the gospel reading, “This is the Gospel of Jesus Christ,” with the response, “Praise be to you, Lord Jesus Christ.”

For Jews, Christians, and Muslims, there are certain written words that are considered sacred, or scripture–the Torah, the Bible, the Koran.  Other traditions have texts and sacred writings which illustrate eternal truths, but for the Abrahamic faiths, God is somehow present in the words on the page.  We differ across and within traditions as to how we understand that Presence--  Is it word for word, dictated by God, or are the words “God-breathed,” as Eugene Peterson says, through their human authors in their very concrete human contexts?  Did “God say it, we believe it, that settles it”? Or, as we say in the United Church of Christ, is God “still speaking”?

Wrestling with the texts is a time-honored Jewish tradition.  In fact, Israel’s name means “one who has wrestled with God.”  (You may recall the story of Jacob wrestling with the angel.) Students of the Torah sit across from one another and literally go back and forth, debating, arguing, examining all sides of the text.  The Talmud is a collection of stories and commentaries of the rabbis who have imaginatively expanded the text.  Faithful Muslims memorize the Koran–
the whole thing–so one must immerse oneself in that text, understand what you’re saying, if you are to be able to hold such a body of work in your heart and mind.

We Christians, on the other hand, especially those of us in the more “liberal” traditions, are more likely to regard our bibles as holy but prefer to keep them at arm’s length.  We may know or recognize a few passages–we recognize the shepherds and angels in the Christmas story, for example, or the creation story in Genesis, but do we know that there are two different creation stories there?  How many of us can really find our way around our Bibles, and when we happen upon one of those bizarre or especially troubling or violent passages, do we know what to do with them, except slam our bibles shut and exclaim, “That’s why I don’t read the Bible!”  You may have grown up in a different time and with a different approach to the bible, but I can tell you that more and more people have no training or experience at all in reading, let alone wrestling, with the bible, and the public exploitation of biblical texts to condemn or exclude people is becoming many people’s only exposure to this sacred text.  That’s why one of the 3 main goals of the UCC is to educate about and immerse our members in this text so that we can offer a different understanding and living out of its truth.

In the story from Nehemiah which David read for us this morning, the people wept when they heard the law and had it interpreted for them.  (From the very beginning, the texts have been explained and interpreted.)  We are not told why they wept, but I imagine that after being in exile for a couple generations, and coming to understand their exile as the consequence of their having turned away from God and God’s law, that it was a bittersweet homecoming to their Truth.  This is how God wants us to live, this is who we are meant to be, this is our true identity...and look how far we’ve gone astray from that.  The recognition of that and the deep understanding of the pain that wandering and turning away had caused them dropped them to their knees.  That is what a recognition of guilt–what we’ve done or haven’t done that has caused harm to ourselves or others–can do, but it should not leave us there, on our knees, weeping.  As long as we can recognize those actions or thoughts that have taken us away from our true center, we can get up off our knees and continue the journey, wiser to the pitfalls that await us and that have tripped us up before.

“This day is holy to the Lord your God,”Nehemiah and Ezra and the Levites say to the people. “Do not mourn or weep...go your way..” Eat and drink and share what you have with those who don’t have anything... “and do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”

“The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,” Jesus read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, “because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”  Even Jesus picked and chose verses from Scripture, or at least Luke does as he tells this story.  These words are actually from a couple of different chapters in Isaiah, and Jesus leaves out, “to proclaim the day of vengeance of our God.”

Here in this season of inaugurals, we might think of this as Jesus’ inaugural address.  This is his vision for his ministry, this is how he understands his calling–anointed by God to bring good news to the poor, proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of God’s favor.  This is what the kingdom of God looks like.  It has arrived and it is still coming.

But just as some Americans heard President Obama’s second inaugural speech as visionary, hopeful, empowering and others heard it as a power grab, a frightening liberal rant; so too the people in the synagogue in Nazareth had different responses.  Our assigned reading for today ends at a rather deceptive point, for next week we’ll read that while some thought Jesus spoke remarkably well, especially for a carpenter’s son, others thought he had become too big for his britches, and in fact, by the end of the scene, the crowd turns into a mob trying to throw Jesus off a cliff.  “What child is this?!” indeed!

Good news to the poor, release of the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, and God’s kingdom come sound like good news in the abstract.  But when you start to get real, the news sounds less good–you mean, good news for the poor means I have to share? You mean, I’m actually holding some of the chains of those prisoners?  You mean, my eyes are the ones that need to be opened to the truth?  You mean, the structures that oppress some people actually benefit me?  You mean, God’s kingdom come means my comfortable world will get shaken up?  This is the “good news”?  And for Jesus’ neighbors, who were some of those who were oppressed, where was that phrase about ‘the day of  the vengeance of God’?

Abraham Lincoln’s second inaugural address was, like Barack Obama’s, relatively brief as inaugural speeches go, but it was actually critical of the nation, it named slavery as one of the sins of the nation.  Like Obama’s speech, like Jesus’ reading and interpretation, it too engendered wildly different and emotionally charged responses.  Jesus’ choice of text and his interpretation of it are good news only to those who acknowledge that all is not right, that too many people are hearing and living only the bad news of shame, of oppression, of exclusion.  This isn’t some “new age” thinking that Jesus has come up with–he reaches back into the tradition, back to ancient notion of “jubilee,” “the year of God’s favor,” where every 50 years, all debts are forgiven, the land returns to the original owner (who, by the way, is God) and all slaves and prisoners are released.  It is an old hope given new life.

Leslie Cooke writes, “Too long we have been concerned that our gospel should give offense; it is time we were concerned that it is not giving offense enough.  Our condemnation is not that [people] sometimes oppose the gospel but that so many ignore it.  If people paid us the tribute of their antagonism, we should have less cause for concern.”  (Faith Stakes a Claim, cited in Vt. Conference e-Kit, 1/24/13)   Are people criticizing and staying away from our churches because we are setting too many people free from the prisons of self-hatred and doubt and fear?  Are our numbers dwindling because we feed too many hungry people or house too many homeless people?  Or are we just too easy to ignore?  Does anybody notice what we do?

“The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,” Jesus read, ““because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”   The story of that reading in the Nazareth synagogue is not over yet–we’ll read what comes next next Sunday, and Jesus’ vision continues to guide us as live into God’s future for us.  In the meantime, I offer these words which echo those of Jesus and Martin Luther King Jr. and all those who throughout the ages, have called us to come home to our Truth–

Within the belljar of your heart let freedom ring...
And if that means one gesture today of permission to love your self or another a bit more kindly so be it...
And if that means a clarion call against oppression in your own backyard so be it...
And if that means a shofar blast of awakening to the potential within each of us to care for one another so be it...
And if that means a resonant voice in front of a crowd naming a shining future that is possible in a time that is dangerous then so be it.
What ever it looks like, however it sounds, however small or grand the shift, let freedom ring.
We must wear this mantle and carry this staff as if it was gifted to us...and it was...and we must.
(Maria Sirois, Daily Inspiration, 1/25/13)

May it be so.  Amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Awash in Abundance"-- 1 Cor. 12:1-11, John 2:1-11-- Jan. 20, 2013

John’s Gospel is anything but a free-flowing journal or documentary. It is, rather, a carefully constructed, even poetic, statement of faith, beginning "in the beginning"–back before time even began–"In the beginning was the Word"--and ending–or rather, trailing off–into eternity–"But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written."

John’s Jesus is cosmic, totally in control, intentional, and, frankly, a little obtuse in some of his discourses. So, when we come fairly early on to the story of the wedding at Cana, we might be tempted to think, "Oh, ok, Jesus and his friends did do normal things like attend weddings." And wouldn’t it be funny, if as some have suggested, that Jesus and his buddies were such partyers, such big wine-drinkers, that they are, in fact, the reason why the wine ran out early?

It might be tempting to think that, but we’d be missing John’s point. "On the third day,"John begins the story. The third day after what? Jesus has just finished calling his first disciples–the third day after that? Or is it like, "On the third day after Jesus was crucified..." More likely that. We should keep our eyes open for resurrection life here.

"On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee..." The setting is a celebration of love. Marriage and weddings are over and over used in the Bible as symbols of the love between God and humanity, full-bodied, sensual, energetic. The Song of Songs is an erotic love poem tucked in the middle of our Bible, devoted to just this kind of love. This wedding at Cana is the setting for the first of Jesus’ signs, John tells us, a sign telling us about the nature of Love. It is to be celebrated. As one commentator writes, "God does not want our religion to be too holy to be happy in." (Robert Brearley, cited by Kate Matthews Huey in Weekly Seeds, 1/20/13)

We read that "the mother of Jesus was there." She is not named, and we have not met her before, as John’s gospel has no infancy narrative. If we’re looking for an insight into their family dynamics, neither of them comes off particularly well–Mary is a little nagging, maybe even the stereotypical Jewish mother–"They have no wine"–and Jesus’ response seems a little short and even disrespectful–"Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." As one commentator suggested, "If I said that to my mother, I’d be in need of a healing after that." Like a People Magazine article, we may be hoping for some insight into the mother-son relationship, but John is not interested in that. In fact, this is the first of just two appearances of the mother of Jesus (she is never named) in this gospel–here, at the first of the signs that Jesus did–and at the cross, the final sign, when Jesus commends her to John’s care and she to his, creating the new community, literally with his blood. She is present at both times when, as John says, "Jesus revealed his glory."

So, here in the story of the wedding at Cana, Mary (we can name her) moves the story along, rather than being fleshed out as a real person. "They have no wine," she tells her son. "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." From a Positive Psychology standpoint, we might say that Mary is focusing on the negative, on the lack. Jesus deflects her concern, and then moves to reveal the positive, the abundance that is hidden within this situation.

We are talking about a lot of water being changed into wine here–something like 150 gallons. This is in-your-face abundance and excellence, not just a slight improvement. It’s a miracle, of course, but Jesus is the one so open to the energy and power of God that he could channel it in all sorts of ways. He was an infinitely clear vessel for that channeling, but we know that all of us and all of nature are vibrating with the same energy. "Cleave the wood and I am there," Jesus teaches in the Gospel of Thomas. God is in the wood-- and beyond the wood, of course–but all the miracles of Jesus reveal an interrelationship–a luminous web, as Barbara Brown Taylor calls it–between everyone and everything. And so the water is transformed into wine, and good wine at that. "In turning water into wine," Dan Clendenin writes, "Jesus offers us excess for our emptiness." (Journey with Jesus, 1/20/13) Then of course there’s Soren Kierkegaard’s cryptic observation back in the 19^th c.–"Christ turned water into wine, but the church has succeeded in doing something even more difficult: it has turned wine into water." Ah yes, "too holy to be happy..."

"Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk, " the steward says to the bridegroom, who had been perilously close to being shamed for not having enough wine, "but you have kept the good wine until now." The first wine served, perhaps like love at its beginning, is savored and enjoyed. But as time goes on, it’s easy to have our senses dulled, to become numb to the beauty and rich flavor that love can bring to our lives. "The thrill is gone," as the song goes. And not just from love, but, for so many people, the thrill is gone from life. There is a lot of pain–even trauma–present in our society, and we have become a culture of self-medicators. This past week’s drug raid revealed not only a surprising number of sellers and possessors of drugs in our community, but, as the hospital’s emergency room displayed, a large number of users whose supply had suddenly been dammed up. And that’s just the illegal drug users. That doesn’t begin to address the number of legal abusers of alcohol. We are a society full of pain, seeking to numb it by any number of means.

"You have kept the good wine until now." Jesus reveals, in this first of his signs, that not only is love abundant, it is to be savored, paid attention to, nurtured, not taken for granted. And it takes work. Imagine those workers lugging the water up and down the ladders to fill the stone jars, the "drably dutiful," as one commentator wrote (Robert Brearley, op cit.) They were involved in a miracle of abundance, and they had no idea. When we’re washing the dishes or wiping the tables after Sunday Supper, are we aware that we’re involved in a miracle of abundance, as hungry people are fed and welcomed?

"They have no wine," the mother of Jesus tells him. "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." Jesus seems reluctant to act at first, and indeed, Carol Lakey Hess points out the "scandal of divine reluctance–God’s seeming absence or inaction in the face of human suffering and need in any age or place....In a world where for so many there is not clean water–let alone fine wine–where is the extravagance of God? In a world where children play in bomb craters the size of thirty-gallon wine jugs, why the divine reluctance? Like Mary,[she suggests] perhaps we have a role in the story, if we truly believe in God’s goodness and generosity, for we can ‘nudge God with our observation; they have no wine.’" (cited by Kate Huey, op cit.) Perhaps like Mary as well, we can lift our observation to God and at the same time, prepare for God to act–"Do whatever he tells you," she tells the servants.

"When human resources are at an end," (Alyce McKenzie, Edgy Exegesis, Patheos, 1/13/13) Jesus’ "signs" show us, God is able to pour wine into our water jars and life into our lifeless forms. Four years ago, the United States was filled with more hope about its future than I have experienced in my lifetime. Millions of people gathered into Washington DC to witness the inauguration of Barack Obama without a single incidence of violence. The hope seemed to infuse even the criminals. Four years later, the level of hope is considerably lower. As one African American preacher said, to a great extent,"promises remain unfulfilled, hopes have been dashed, dreams shattered." (Rev. Dr. Alvin O’Neal Jackson, Odyssey Network, "A Vision for America," 1/20/13) "We have not quite run out of money yet, [he says] but we are running low on courage, vision and leadership." Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream of the Beloved Community is not yet realized.

Like the mother of Jesus, we can acknowledge the situation. There are too many without the basic necessities of life–food, shelter, health care, education–let alone the less tangible necessities–hope, dignity, justice. The jars are empty for too many of our neighbors, for many of us as well. But we must not just focus on the lack. Jug by jugful, even spoonful by spoonful, we can begin to fill the jars with the full expectation that God can transform our labors and our longings into abundance beyond our imagination.

Is it "our hour" as a church, as we come to our Annual Meeting, to be transformed into something truly remarkable, something that can save our neighbors and loved ones from shame, offering life that is not just existence but even flourishing and thriving? "Now there are varieties of gifts," Paul wrote to the church in Corinth, "but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common good." We are blessed with an abundance of gifts. How can we share or reveal our abundance with the world and with future generations, even to the 7^th generation, as Ernie commended to us last week? Henry David Thoreau said, "It’s not what you look at that matters. It’s what you see." Do we see water or wine? Deficit or abundance? Decline or possibility?

"You have kept the good wine until now. Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory." May God’s glory be revealed in us. Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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2012 Giving Tree

Every year our Mission Team works with local agencies to provide gifts for families in Bennington County.  This picture is of the tree crafted by Andrea Lampron and all the wrapped gifts collected.

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"Called by Name"-- Isaiah 43:1-7, Luke 3:15-16, 21-22-- Jan. 13, 2013

 

My brief meditation this morning is really just the introduction to, and underpinning of, Ernie’s presentation a little later on about the challenges and opportunities we face today in the life of our church. And as we all become part of "the church" when we are baptized, it is fitting that we should look at the story of Jesus’ baptism which he shares with us.

All four gospels tell the story of Jesus’ baptism, but each has their own unique perspective. In some, the whole crowd hears the Voice from heaven, which some take to be thunder, saying that this Jesus is God’s beloved son. Others, like the one we read in Luke, have the Voice speaking only and directly to Jesus–"You are my beloved son; with you I am well pleased." The Spirit descends like a dove–"in bodily form," Luke tells us–and this tangible, feathered Presence alights on Jesus’ river-drenched body. Baptism happens in the midst of embodied life, in the presence of earthly elements. It’s not just an abstract, heavenly symbol.

"I have called you by name; you are mine," God says to Israel through the prophet Isaiah."Do not fear for I am with you...–everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made." Jesus was not and is not the only the only "beloved." God calls each of us by name, calls each of us "beloved," but our response to that claiming is "personal and situational," as Bruce Epperly writes. (The Adventurous Lectionary, 1/13/13) We are free to ignore that claim upon our lives, free to refuse to believe that God is able to love even us–as unworthy, or as flawed, or as confused as we may be or have been taught that we are. Even Jesus had to choose whether or not to accept the affirmation of the Voice–his public ministry lay before him, and he had to be tested in the wilderness to see whether this was a path he was going to take. But, as Epperly writes, "Fully alive, Jesus was fully open to embodying God’s vision in his own unique way, sharing God’s vision, energy, and power for the wholeness and salvation of humankind." (Ibid.) When and if we are "fully alive," God is able to work God’s vision through our unique selves, and we become part of God’s transforming wholeness and salvation of humankind.

Some of us were baptized as infants, and so "remembering our baptisms" may be a pretty fruitless enterprise. Others of us do remember our baptisms, as we were baptized as young or older adults in what is often called ‘believers’ baptism." Still others of us may not yet have been baptized, but for whatever reasons, consider ourselves part of the church community. It is said that Martin Luther, on particularly bad days, would look at the sign he had written for himself near his desk–"Remember your baptism." It’s not the sprinkling or the immersing in water that we are to remember. It is the affirmation and claiming that happens when we are baptized–"You are my beloved child," God says to each of us. Baptism doesn’t make us or our lives holy or sacred or mistake-proof, but it affirms, acknowledges, recognizes that we are, indeed, sacred beings, called by God, "created for God’s glory, formed and made by God," as Isaiah said.

Baptism is not just private and personal. It is a "powerful bonding experience," as UCC pastor Kate Huey writes, in which we understand ourselves as belonging to a community that is "engaged with God in the transformation of the world, in bringing a new world to reality at long last." (Samuel, 1/13/13) That’s why we yearn for and pray for God’s kingdom to come–"Thy kingdom come"--it has already been ushered in by Jesus but it is not yet fully revealed. Baptism "connects people with promises too big to fit into the world as it is presently constituted," as another commentator puts it (Richard Swanson, cited by Huey, op cit.)

Which is where we as a church community come in, where our discussions and prayerful discernment of our future come in. What we shall be has not yet been revealed. What shape or form the church will evolve into is still unknown. But by our baptism, each one of us has a part, has a stake, in what that future will be like. Our unique, individual gifts, and the gift of this particular, unique church community, are called into service by God for the transformation of the world. We can choose to respond to that call or we can ignore it. But the difference between those responses is literally the difference between life and death. "Choose life," God begs us. What will be our response?

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"More Light" --Isaiah 60:1-6, Matthew 2:1-12-- Jan. 6, 2013

 

The Gospel writer we call Matthew is the most Jewish of all the gospel writers. He’s the one who most often puts the story of Jesus in the context of Hebrew scripture–"Thus, as it was written...," Matthew often says. He begins his gospel with a genealogy, tracing Jesus’ ancestry back to Abraham, the father of the Jews, through David and the various grandmothers and grandfathers of Jesus, down through "Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah."

As we heard in the reading from the prophet Isaiah, there is a universal stream in the Jewish tradition-- "nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn." The Jewish people, at their best and brightest, are a light to the nations, not just a parochial, exclusive, tribal sect, and phrases from Isaiah’s prophecy infuse Matthew’s story of Jesus’ birth– "A multitude of camels shall cover you....they shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord."

So, according to Matthew, after Jesus was born, it was not Jewish shepherds but foreign astrologers from the East who came to find the Child. These wise men, or magi, were quite possibly Zoroastrians, followers of the ancient Persian religion that read signs and patterns in the stars and sky, who were simply doing what they were called to do–studying the stars–when they discovered something worth exploring more deeply, something worth moving out of their usual patterns and routines to check out, something worth the risk of a journey to an unknown destination.

They come to the political and religious center of Judaism–Jerusalem–where they assume those on the "inside" have surely seen the same thing they have observed–signs that a "child born king of the Jews has been born." These outsiders then discover that, whereas they have come to pay homage to this new-born King, the current man with the title King wants to murder the child. So, after giving their auspicious gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, they go home by another way.

We are not told–and we have no reason to believe–that the magi gave up their Zoroastrianism, but no doubt they never looked upon it or the world in the same way after their journey. More light had been shed on their ancient wisdom. The light of Christ was integrated into their worldview.

The word epiphany, as we’ve said, means a "showing forth," a "manifestation." But more than that, it’s like the last piece of a puzzle when, put in place, reveals a deeper, broader meaning. So there’s a sudden realization or comprehension about what the whole thing means. This new information or experience, insignificant by itself, now illuminates a foundation or structure that had previously been hidden. An epiphany is an "ah ha!" moment.

The journey of the magi enlightened their understanding of the bigger picture that their study of the stars and planets had led them to but had been inadequate on its own. And just so, by including this story of these exotic visitors from the east in his story of the birth of Christ, Matthew adds a piece of the puzzle that turns on the Light, so to speak, for his community of Jewish Christians: It’s not just about us. This Light is meant not just for the Jews but for everyone. In fact, our Establishment tried to put the Light out. God is perfectly able to use whatever instruments God wants to fulfill the Divine Intention for the world. Don’t be too quick about judging someone by the crown or turban on their head or by the signs tattooed on their bodies or the cars or camels they drive.

Christians have historically looked upon other religious traditions in a variety of ways. One, that still has plenty of currency, is the exclusive one-- that ours is the only true religion. The only way to experience God is through Jesus. Another is that ours is the superior understanding, but recognizing that other traditions have value. Still another is the inclusive perspective–that from the same Source there are many paths, all leading to one destination. One expression of this says that all people, then, are "anonymous Christians," just as there is a Hindu saying, "all people are Hindus."

A fourth perspective, which I tend to prefer, is the pluralist one–there are different visions of reality, with different understandings, different values, and there is no need for uniformity. What we need is dialogue. We can remain "Christian," but deepen and widen our spirituality through understanding the wisdom and perspectives of other traditions. Through them God sheds more light on our own tradition.

The story of the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child is a critical piece in the bigger puzzle, especially in our world of instant communication, ready access to the teachings of other traditions, and constant interaction with people from every part of the world. God has ways of reaching and illuminating people of all cultures and traditions, and those ways are multiple, complex, and specific to those cultures and traditions. God’s revelation to humankind is ongoing and evolving–God is still speaking, if you will–and how that revelation is communicated and understood depends on the specific culture and vocabulary of the people receiving the revelation.

This applies not only to different religious traditions but also to different generations and different cultures. The digital generation may look for and receive God’s light in very different ways and places than those of older generations. Pastor John Robinson told the Pilgrims setting off for the New World that "God has yet more light and truth to be revealed from his holy Word," and that is as true today as it was then.

The magi, after finding and experiencing the Christ Child, went home by another way, "warned in a dream," Matthew says, not to return to Herod. There is real and present danger in clutching too tightly to the understandings and privileges of our own tradition. It’s too easy to lose our perspective, to develop blind spots that keep us from seeing the shadows that may have developed in our own understandings.

One of the real gifts for me of my various times spent at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health is the interplay and enrichment of different religious traditions. Hindu, Buddhist, Jewish, Sufi, and Christian traditions offer their wisdom and practices, and I find my own Christian perspective enhanced, enlightened, and refined, rather than threatened.

John Philip Newell, the wonderful Scottish poet and theologian, says that Epiphany is not just about the appearance of God but rather the transparence of God–God’s Light is at the heart of and in everything.[Day1.org] That Light shines beyond the boundaries of our traditions and our assumptions, enlightening the path forward.

That Light radiates from within the bread and the cup, and as we take the bread and juice into our bodies, so we take in the Light and become vessels of it. May this blessing be ours as we join the magi on the journey home this Epiphany day–

May the angels of light glisten for us this day.

May the sparks of God’s beauty dance in the eyes of those we love.

May the universe be on fire with Presence for us this day.

May the new sun’s rising grace us with gratitude.

Let earth’s greenness shine and its waters breathe with Spirit.

Let heaven’s winds stir the soil of our soul and fresh awakenings rise within us.

May the mighty angels of light glisten in all things this day.

May they summon us to reverence, may they call us to life. (Newell, Praying with the Earth, p.4)

Amen, and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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