Heavenly Starlight

 

January 7, 2023 @ Trinity Bixby
Rev. Lucus Levy Keppel
Isaiah 60:1-6, Matthew 2:1-12

Over a decade ago, I was living in Nome, Alaska, working for a Catholic radio station while I began the process of finding my first call – the first church I would serve as a pastor. I remember, early one morning, I heard back from a church that wanted to interview me – and how special it felt that things were moving forward. We scheduled a time to talk, and I got to thinking about how God’s call to ministry takes some odd twists and turns. After all, there I was on the Bering Sea, a half-continent away both from my home state of Michigan and from the church that wanted to interview me, in New Mexico. That evening, my four roommates and I got another exciting call – one we had been hoping for since we moved in! The Aurora Borealis, the northern lights – they were shining in the skies above the tundra! We all rushed to get our warm clothing on, hopped in the one car that we shared, and drove out of town to a remote hillside, where we plopped down on the tundra, and watched the skies above.

If you’ve seen pictures of the Aurora, you know that it’s usually shimmering with a green light. That’s how this began, too – a soft green ribbon, shimmering across the sky. Bands of color, waving in the celestial wind. But then – something unexpected. Some of the bands changed color, fading from green, and back into a bright pink! It was hard to look away, despite the cold and frozen ground, but it seemed like the whole world around us was lit up with green and pink light, each casting shadows in different directions. And every now and then, a white streak would light up the sky, more brightly than the northern lights, even if just for a few moments – these shooting stars were a coincident meteor swarm! Awestruck at the beauty of the heavens above, my roommates and I stayed put for over an hour and a half, mostly in silence. When the Aurora had dimmed a bit, and we were solidly cold, we stood up, and marveled again – for, while the cold of the permafrost had seeped into our bodies, we had transferred heat back into the ground below us. Without even trying, we had made “permafrost angels” shaped to our bodies – a melted spot that continued to look upwards even as we warmed up at home with cocoa and conversation.

I’ve often remembered those lights above – the beauty and majesty, even glory, of a sky illuminated not just by stars but by curtains of light and streaks of meteors. In the world before electric lighting, such an amazing display would have been more frequently seen – especially by peoples around the world who tried to interpret meaning from everything that takes place in the skies above.

The sky was considered God’s home by the ancient Hebrew people – God is referred to in several places in the Bible as El elyon – God-from-on-high. The lights of the stars and the moon and the sun are all referred to as reflections of God’s glory – and the prophets play with this concept frequently, referencing the light of God shining from people, just as it shines from the heavens. As Isaiah says, “Arise, shine, your light has come; the Lord’s glory has shone upon you. Though darkness covers the earth and gloom the nations, the Lord will shine upon you; God’s glory will appear over you…. Lift up your eyes, and look all around…. Then you will see and be radiant; your heart will tremble and open wide.”

Perhaps, then, it’s no wonder that Magi, who were ancient astronomers and advisors to kings in Persia, Parthia, and beyond, would take note of special signs in the skies. While there were no cameras at the manger, and we’ll never have a complete picture of the star of Bethlehem that the Magi followed westward, I can only begin to picture its beauty by remembering the aurora. Yet, most of our imaginings of the star of Bethlehem, that famous Christmas star, do so as a linked set of crosses, a horizontal one in the form of St. Andrew’s cross, and a vertical one with a very long tail, pointing downward. It’s rare to see any movement depicted in the star – yet, clearly the Magi followed something. I like to imagine it as akin to the aurora, pulsing and waving through the atmosphere above in pinks and greens and whites, beckoning all who see it to stop and look up at the marvel of God’s creation – and then down, seeing the Word made flesh, God choosing to become fully human. Perhaps this is only visible in hindsight, but the radiance of God shone from the heavens, and from Jesus, and from all who followed the Way that Jesus taught.

That light from God is not any less beautiful when we can’t see it. Indeed, we continue to shine with its invisible lovelight, that occasionally flares into the visible world. As my great-grandfather put it in a prayer-poem:

Stars that shine above, tell of God’s love.

For even when clouds hide, still they are there.

So we, dear Father, though shadows hide Thee,

Know Thou art keeping watch with tenderest care.

Beauty and love, visible and invisible – God is our constant companion, now and always. Along with the Hebrew people, along with the Magi, along with the early church, and along with our neighbors, we follow God’s light in our lives. The Magi found wisdom in their journey, and returned with word of the divine in the world. Yet, amid their search, shadows emerged – Herod’s deceit veiled by the guise of reverence, threatening the purity of the newborn’s light. This paradox, where shadows seem to cloak divine radiance, echoes our own reality – an imperfect world where darkness and light contend with each other. But pure light would blind us as surely as pure darkness – perhaps this is why God’s presence, though constant, is only occasionally visible.

Our souls resonate with the celestial dance of stars, the heavenly starlight, bearing witness to God’s unwavering presence in all places – the heavens above, on earth below, and within our hearts. The cosmic ballet reminds us that God’s light persists, guiding, comforting, and revealing. Even its shifting colors remind us that life is always in motion – reforming and reorganizing according to the will of God.

Our lives are woven with moments of unexpected beauty, unexpected turns, and unseen connections. It’s in these intricacies that God’s guiding hand manifests – a vibrant reminder that amidst life’s twists and turns, God’s light persists, illuminating our paths and inviting us to reflect the light in our daily encounters. In the busyness of our lives, it’s easy to overlook the divine choreography unfolding around us – a dance of grace, love, and unexpected joy.

As we navigate our early pilgrimage, let us remain attentive to the hues of God’s presence. The lights above are not limited to those who look up, as we reflect God’s light in our lives. So, let us heed the divine invitation – becoming bearers of God’s radiant revelation. Let us marvel in the majesty above, and leave “angels” of our presence behind us, from the warmth we share with the world. Let our lives echo the Magi, who sought wisdom, and were willing to listen when God sent them warnings – and also were able to marvel at God’s presence in the world.

May you follow the light of God wherever it leads you. May you be filled with the light of the Holy Spirit to shine from you on every path you take, whether it’s the one you expected, or not. May the light of Jesus shine from the face of all you encounter, that you can know that we are all children of the Light. Amen.

 

Eyes Open (Ruth 2)

Ordinary 33B

November 15, 2015

Ancho + Corona

Scripture:
Ruth 3: 1-5; 4:13-17 + Mark 13: 1-8, 32-33

Comfort in Troubled Times

Earlier this week, there were several terrorist actions throughout the world. On Thursday evening, two bombers killed forty people in a Shia suburb of Beirut. Then, on Friday morning, a Daesh (ISIS) militant blew himself up at a funeral in Baghdad, killing 18 more. On Friday night, several more militants across Paris killed over a hundred people. As it happens, all of these actions have been connected in one way or another to Daesh - and it seems that threats of greater violence to come have been made around the world.

We live in dark times - when hatred can reach across the entire globe. But we also live in times when hope can spread more rapidly than terror. 

You may have seen on Facebook or other social media a new image - a symbol of peace in Paris. Constructed of a sketch of the Eiffel Tower and the cold-war era peace sign, made of the semaphore symbols for the letter ND - Nuclear Disarmament - it seems in description to be mish-mash of parts. 

But this symbol has transcended cultural boundaries, and is being shared from countries all around the Earth - this image of hope, a wish of peace, a simple sign does not require translation. And subsequently, people have been showing support for Beirut and Baghdad as a result of the high-profile nature of the Paris attacks. It's truly wonderful to see the forming of a global consciousness of peace.

In the time of Mark's community of faith, the world they knew was also experiencing troubled times. At the level of Empire, Rome was continuing their practice of execution and torture of people rebelling against their rule by crucifixions. Outside the empire, Parthia was threatening to not only war against Rome - but possibly to win that war, as they had already defeated several legions sent after them. Parthia, at the height of its power, stretched from modern-day Turkey, through Syria and Persia, and reached all the way to India.

Additionally, a Jewish revolt had been forming for years against Rome, as the people continued to be oppressed, kept from their worship practices in the Temple, and taxed heavily by a succession of Roman governors. 

Mark's Gospel was written to a community of Christians who found themselves stuck in the midst of a very chaotic world. Not only were these continent-wide events transpiring, but persecution against Christians had begun in Rome itself. Though the depredations of Nero were still in the future, the Christians were a large enough minority to be noticed - and their refusal to fight in the army or in the Colosseum meant that they stood out against the power of the state quite visibly.

In Jerusalem, the situation was equally tense. Word was spreading that Rome would move against the city, and Christians feared that the city would be razed or torn down. Some groups of Christians even were spreading sayings of Jesus that suggested exactly that - and many were urging the community to leave the city before a Roman siege began. To help comfort his community - and other Christian groups who would read his words - the author of Mark wrote the Gospel, the first to be written, and compiled it from many sources. Several of these sources included predictions of a future time of trouble, and Mark stitched most of those together in Chapter 13, our reading today.

This chapter is often titled the "Little Apocalypse." No, that doesn't mean a short end of the world, or a small disaster - it means a short time of opening eyes. Apocalypse - apokalupsis in Greek - means, literally, "to raise the veil" - that is, to see something previously unseen. To describe eye-opening moments. These predictions of a future are not meant as a literal roadmap, but are a part of an ancient culture of prophesy. Notice how vague many of the descriptors are - "There will be wars," "earthquakes," "famines." These apply at many times, in many ways, to many groups of people. The point isn't that it will happen just-so - but that no matter what happens, in the midst of this darkness, Jesus will be there. That this isn't it - this isn't the end. And when Jesus returns, the Kingdom of God will not contain this pain and suffering.

All that said - the time of Jesus' return is unknown, even to him. He made that point specifically in the end of the passage. When I re-read that portion of the scripture, I was reminded of a news article I read this week, of a family in Texas that pulled their kids from school because the Rapture would be coming soon, and surely their kids didn't need to learn anything! Hmm...

These times of darkness - the wars, the quakes, and famine - represent the "birth pangs" - labor pains - of the coming kingdom. As painful as all of this is, to us today and to the early church, the promise is that this isn't all that will ever be. When my wife Elana and I were talking this week, she put it this way: On the one hand, if Jesus comes immediately, all this pain is turned into joy at the new kingdom that has finally arrived. On the other, the worst-case scenario is that the kingdom doesn't come in our lifetime, and we get to be a part of building it. 

All of this is a comfort to us in these dark times - when lives are lost, they are not lost forever. Even as far away as we are, there are ways in which we can help, if we keep our eyes open.

Darkness leads to light - but requires change

The story of Ruth and Boaz illustrates the point of keeping our eyes open. Last week, we talked about Ruth and Naomi leaving Moab for Bethlehem. Their lives were practically over; even though they had each other, they were in a very dark place personally. The lectionary text skips over part of their story, but they did find shelter on the farm of a man named Boaz, who is a cousin of Naomi's. Ruth has been working with him on the farm, and hoping that he will notice her and ask her to marry him. It hasn't happened - he has referred to her as "daughter" and made references to his older age - but now, Naomi decides to make things happen. She give some advice to Ruth to meet with Boaz and be direct in her affection for him. Then the lectionary skips over more parts - we'll call it a holy yada, yada, yada - and things end up working out for Ruth and Boaz, they get married, and have a child - a child whose name means "provider" - and provides not only for Naomi but for all of Israel in the form of his grandson, David, who was later to become king.

You see, Ruth and Naomi begin the story in a dark place - they exist only on what they can glean from the fields and then later on what is given to them by Boaz. Naomi has been keeping her eyes on Boaz' routine. She's decided, with Ruth's consent, to try to encourage Boaz to see Ruth differently. This threshing-floor story thus becomes the closest story in the Bible to anything illustrating that non-Biblical phrase, "God helps those who help themselves." 

Ruth and Naomi are working to change perceptions in their community - and they do it according to an ancient practice. As widows, they are low on the status ladder - so low, that there's not much hope for them, even together. But, in Israelite society, the closest male relative was supposed, if able, to take a widow as their wife in order to continue the family line, if at all possible. That's what's happened here - despite Ruth not being Israelite, she has claimed Naomi's family as her own.

Even in their darkness and fear, Ruth and Naomi keep their eyes open. Naomi even literally says to Ruth, "Notice where he lays down" - that is, hide and keep your eyes open for the right situation! And that right situation brings hope - not just for themselves, but for all of Israel. And, as Jesus is in the line of David, hope arises for all the earth, too.

Eyes open to see the light

In times of darkness, you have to keep your eyes open to see even the faintest hint of light. Look at Ruth and Naomi, who take risks to build a better life for themselves - and are willing to deal with the consequences if those risks don't work out.

But, it's very important that, even with your eyes open, you focus on the right things. Look at the beginning of our Mark passage - the disciples point out the beauty of the Temple to Jesus, looking closely at it, noticing the huge stones. But Jesus responds that the temple will not stand - that nothing human made will last - but that God will be there with the people the whole while. That this isn't the end, but the beginning - the birth pangs of a new and better world to come.

With your eyes open, work to make the world more like the coming kingdom. Take care of yourselves and your family - and warn others of danger. Like Mark did, in warning the community to flee Jerusalem for Pella. Like Ruth and Naomi did in changing the perceptions of their community. Like we can do in changing perceptions about Christian love - to show that, no matter where the darkness falls, Christ's light will live in our hearts, and shine like a beacon.

And not just in our hearts, but in the hearts that love all around the world. Hearts that can shine brightly in the darkness, till that time of peace, love, and joy finally arrives. 

Until then -

May God hold you close in the darkness around. May the Holy Spirit point you in the direction of the light. And may Christ's way of love and peace fill your heart with light at every turn. Amen.

Lament in Unknowing (Job 2)

Ordinary 28B
Oct 11, 2015
Ancho + Corona

Scripture:
Job 23: 1-17; Mark 10: 17-31

I’d like to open and close this sermon time with a song that my Great-grandfather wrote the lyrics to:

Stars that shine above
Tell of God’s love
For even when clouds hide,
Still, they are there
So, we, dear Father
Though shadows hide Thee,
Know Thou art keeping watch
With tenderest care.

Last Friday was the day of the Ancho Star Party, when we gathered to study the heavens and marvel at God’s beautiful creation. Yet, in Corona, the world seemed shrouded in cloud. It was like a blanket, covering over everything – that cloud clung to the ground and to the sky above. As I drove down to Ancho, I kept thinking that it was like the world was disappearing around me. Even after heading through the Tecalote pass, the clouds covered the skies above. We had gathered to view the heavens, but the heavens were closed to us.

Yet, like the blanket it resembled, it was comforting too. After all, we were able to have fellowship and food – to warm the church not only with the woodstove, but with love and affirmation. Even not being able to see the stars, we studied about the history of the constellations, and practiced with our star charts. Could we identify the stars? Could we remember their relations to each other?

That’s where Job is in our passage today – in the midst of cloud-wrapped darkness. Verse 17, in the Revised Standard Version, reads “For I am hemmed in by darkness, and thick darkness covers my face.” For Job, it’s worse: not only can he not see the stars, but he has no food or fellowship with his friends or his wife. He and his friends have spent 20 chapters discussing theological points, about why Job “deserves” to be punished with suffering, and Job refutes all their points. The arguing has already gone on so long that it’s stopped being about what the other person said. We’ve all had arguments that have done this, right? Where you stop listening to the other person , and just argue, almost against yourself? Well, Job’s response to Eliphaz, which we read today, does not directly address the concerns he raised in the last chapter. It seems as though these friends did their best for Job while they sat with him silently, in vigil for the first week; now, all their yammering is just making things worse.

This darkness that Job finds himself in is a form of unknowing – Job is asking, “how can I know how to find God?” After all, Job desperately wants to see God – look at verse 3, “If only I knew where to find God, I would go to his court.” But why does Job want to go to God? To argue his case before the great judge.

It’s clear that Job initially thinks that God either doesn’t know about his situation, or that God just hasn’t taken everything into account. Look at verse 7 – “Honest people can reason with [God], so I would be forever acquitted by my judge.” Job’s not wrong that God is an honest judge – but he is wrong in thinking that God is avoiding him. Every direction that Job goes, he feels like God is not there. This is directly opposite the experience of God described by the Psalmist in Psalm 139:

Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. If I take the wings of the morning, and settle at the furthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me and your right hand shall hold me fast.

Compare that to verse 10 of our Job text: “For [God] knows where I am going, and when [God] tries me, I will come out as pure as gold.” You see? Job thinks God is purposefully avoiding him, so as to not let him come to trial – as Job thinks he will surely come out “as pure as gold.”

Job’s reaction is not to curse God, as his wife suggested last week, or to falsely seek absolution for sins that he truly hasn’t committed – but to lament. Now, this isn’t immediate; remember, we’ve been listening to Job talking for 20 chapters about God; but here, Job starts to address his own fears.

Lament is a Latin word that we’ve adopted through French influence into English. It means, literally, to “weep, wail, or mourn” in Latin – and that’s a good translation of the Hebrew, “saphat”, meaning literally to “tear your hair” or figuratively, to mourn openly. Mourning and Lamenting tend to go hand-in-hand, but lamenting has an extra sense of seeking retribution for unjust treatment. Therefore, we lament more situations than we mourn – after all, when we say the Lord’s Prayer, we are lamenting that God’s kingdom is not yet on earth, and asking for the strength to help build it. When we stand up for not only ourselves, but those whose voices are not heard, we are participating in lamentations.

Job, in the darkness of unknowing, illustrates what to do: Lament! Cry against the systems that hold back justice. Speak up for yourself and others who are being mistreated.

To see what happens when we don’t lament, let’s take a look at our Gospel lesson. Here, we see Jesus approached by an unknowing man. He runs up, throws himself at Jesus’ feet, and asks Jesus how to inherit eternal life. The man is showing such enthusiasm – even calling Jesus, “Good Teacher,” a title which is never repeated by anyone else in the Bible. But Jesus deflects his question, first responding that no one but God is truly good. The man shows that he is listening by next calling Jesus by the plain title, Teacher.

So, Jesus asks him if he’s kept a series of commandments: Don’t murder. Don’t commit adultery. Don’t steal. Don’t cheat/defraud. Honor your father and mother. It’s interesting that these commandments are all (but one) from the Decalogue, the ten commandments. The ones left out from that list are all about God: Keep God first, make no idols, keep the Sabbath.

Oh, and one is swapped – Jesus says don’t cheat or defraud, instead of don’t covet. We’ll come back to this in a bit.

The man responds that he has kept them all, and Jesus tells him, “But wait… there’s one more thing! Go, sell all you have, give the money to the poor, come and follow me.” There are five verbs in this “one more thing” – Go, sell, give, come, follow. And this seems straightforward, if a bit convicting: Just keeping the commandments isn’t enough. One must also eek the bettering of the world – acting against the injustice of poverty.

But… that’s not the whole story. Look at the question and answer again: “What must I DO to INHERIT eternal life?” Jesus' answer: Commandments. The commandments Jesus lists – even the wonky “don’t cheat/defraud” – are proscriptions against actions that you DO to get an inheritance. Don’t murder – you can get an inheritance usually only after a person dies, so murder might seem like a way to get it. Don’t commit adultery – Well, Jesus has just finished saying that divorcing someone and remarrying is committing adultery. Whether or not we still hold to that today, the point is that by re-marrying someone, you could receive an inheritance from someone else. Don’t steal – this is straightforward, don’t steal someone else’s inheritance. Don’t lie – don’t say that an inheritance is yours in order to receive that inheritance. Don’t cheat/defraud – this is similar to don’t lie – don’t pretend to be someone else to receive their inheritance. If Jesus had said, “don’t covet,” it wouldn’t have been as strong an indicator, as coveting often leads to a desire to cheat/defraud. Honor your father and mother – after all, if you don’t, they’ll cut you out of their will, and you won’t receive an inheritance.

All of this is Jesus checking to see if this man has done anything that he REALLY shouldn’t have. It is this man’s unknowing – of the fact that inheritance isn’t something you DO something to get – that leads to Jesus’ exchange that it is difficult for the rich to enter heaven. Often, wealth is associated with power, or with goodness – just look at Job’s friends, who think he must have done something bad, since he’s lost all of his wealth. With that mindset, you might very well think you can DO something in order to secure for yourself what you want – that is, what you covet.

This man wanted eternal life for himself – and wanted to throw his wealth at the problem in order to get it. But you can’t buy eternal life! It’s not like you’ll find it on Amazon or E-bay, listed under “Salvation – Eternal life!” So, Jesus is telling the rich man to publicly lament – to cry against the injustice of poverty and do something about it.

Job has lost everything, and laments that God seems far away – and so, Job laments in the darkness of unknowing. He cries against the injustice and cries for a fair trial. The rich man has lost nothing, has much, and wants more. Jesus calls him to lament against the injustice of his standing, and the way society is structured, and he refuses, going away sad. 

That leads us to this question: Which of these men does God look on with favor?

The answer? Both of them – but only one is truly seeking God.

Just as we at Ancho were seeking the stars – by studying, and waiting together, the clouds cleared up just in time. It was a beautiful miracle that that which we were seeking was revealed to us when it suited God – in God’s own time. As we’ll see next week, that’s how it is with Job, too.

May you seek God – lamenting against injustice, and doing what you can to help bring God’s kingdom here on earth. Amen.

I am not afraid
When the shadows fall
And it grows too dark to see
For Thou, dear Lord,
Who watches over all,
Will care for my loved ones and me