Drawn to the Light -- Epiphany

 Matthew 2:1-12

January 2, 2022

 

            Two notes of music. Just two notes, and many of you immediately recognized those notes, the movie they are from, and what they represent. Two notes. The music goes on, but all you need to hear are those two notes, and you know that it is the theme from the movie Jaws.

            Jaws premiered when I was a little kid, so I was not allowed to see it. But I knew those two notes, because the radio station that I listened to played the trailer for Jaws over and over again the summer it premiered. And the trailer always started with those two notes. I may have only been a kid, but I knew enough about what those two notes of music meant that just hearing them scared the fool out of me. Those two notes scared me so badly, that I ended up not sleeping an entire night, because I was afraid of the shark in a movie I wasn’t allowed to see. Those two notes scared me so badly that I refused to watch Jaws even after I was old enough. I didn’t watch Jaws till I was convinced to by friends when I was in college.

Those two notes told me everything I needed to know. They meant that in the movie danger – the shark – was close and getting closer. They meant danger and fear and bad things about to happen. Two notes.

            Now, I use those two notes as one of my alarm settings. Those two notes scare me into waking up. But just those two notes are all it takes. Those two notes made me afraid. I suspect they made others afraid too. Those two notes were composed to spark anticipation, dread, fear. And they were brilliant at it.

            Fear is a funny thing. It can be a great motivator. For example, think about someone who has a health scare. Something happens, like a potential heart problem or the risk of diabetes, and that makes you realize you have to take better care of yourself, so you work harder at eating healthy and exercising.

Or fear for someone else makes you act to help before you can even think about it.  A dear friend of our family chased gang members away from a neighbor boy with nothing but a souvenir baseball bat. Without thinking, a man in New York jumped onto subway tracks to rescue a woman who had fallen. Fear can motivate you to act heroically, to help another in need, to change course and do better for yourself and others.

But fear can also do the opposite. Fear can be paralyzing. And fear can make someone do the wrong thing, the very wrong thing. Fear can drive someone to hurt and harm in terrible ways. We don’t often associate Epiphany with fear; we usually think of God’s light coming into the world, God’s revelation of glory through the coming of Jesus, the wise men following the star of light to where this newly born king was lying. And all of this is true and correct. Matthew’s story contains all of that and more. But there is also fear.

There was fear, because God’s epiphany, God’s light and manifestation was not necessarily welcome to everyone. Herod did not welcome it. The first person that the wise men go to see when the reach Jerusalem was the King. They went to Herod and asked,

“Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.”

Matthew recounts that not only Herod was frightened by this, but all Jerusalem with him. In all the years that I have read this story, I have not given much thought to the fear that the people of Jerusalem felt. I have always assumed – when I have thought about it however briefly – that Jerusalem was scared of the light that was being revealed too. The people of Jerusalem shared the same fear as Herod. But a commentator on WorkingPreacher.org made the point that maybe the people were scared because Herod was scared. Perhaps they realized that Herod was not particularly stable. Maybe they understood that when Herod was afraid bad things happened. It is possible that they understood that Herod’s fear could cause trouble for them or people around them.

And it certainly did. While we lift up the Light of God on this day, the revelation of God, how we are called to live in the Light of God from now on, we often leave out the story that follows this one. Herod was so afraid of this new king, this potential usurper, this person who might bring down the wrath of Rome on his head, that he had all the baby boys aged two and under killed in order to protect himself and his throne. It was Herod’s fear and his brutal response in turn that sent Joseph, Mary, and Jesus fleeing to Egypt as refugees.

            Fear is palpable in our world. It probably always has been, but it feels more acute these days. The latest surge of cases with this new variant is a fearful thing. The terrible and extreme weather that seems to be more frequent is a fearful thing. The rise in violence here and around the world, inflation here and around the world, all of this and so much more are fearful things. The world seems like a pretty scary place. Like I said, it always has, but each generation has to contend with it anew.

            So, why all this talk about fear when we should be talking about light? Herod was a cruel tyrant. His kingship was dominated by fear and causing fear in others. I have not found anything about him, either from scripture or historically, to like. But contrast his kingship to the kingship of Jesus. One is a tyrant. One is a servant. One uses brutality and murder to remain in power. One knows that true power comes through self-sacrifice. One is so afraid that he will do anything to alleviate that fear, including massacring children. One is so trusting that he will go the cross because he knows that the kingdom of God will not be defeated by the powers and principalities of this world. One rules out of fear and with fear. One leads with love.

            The coming of the Light reveals these differences. But what is even more wondrous and amazing is who is drawn to the Light. The light brings foreigners and outsiders. It draws the lowly and the least. The light shows that God is with them, that God is still doing glorious things in their midst, that God is calling them, over and over again, to live in the Light.

            This Christmas I read a story about a neighborhood in Maryland. Christmas of 2020, when people were still in strict lockdown, one man strung Christmas lights from his house to this neighbor’s. The neighbor was an older woman who lived alone, and the man wanted her to know that even in a pandemic they were still connected, she was not truly alone. The string of lights crossed the street and other neighbors took notice. When they discovered the reason for the lights stretching from one house to the next, they began to string their own lights, connecting each house with bands of lights. Some neighbors got even more creative and strung brightly lit words of love and hope and encouragement along with the twinkling lights. Up and down the streets of this one neighborhood, lights connected house to house, neighbor to neighbor. It only took one person and others were drawn to the light of this loving act.

            The coming of the Light reveals the good and the bad. It revealed Herod’s fear even as it also revealed the Incarnation of God into the brokenness of the world. And just as the lights strung throughout that neighborhood revealed that none of them were alone or without connection, so too does God’s Light. It is a light shining in the darkness, a light strung from heaven to the earth below. When we let go of our fear and allow ourselves to be drawn to the Light of God, we are reminding that we are not alone. We are not alone. We are connected to God and to one another. What good and glorious news this is. We give thanks and praise to the God of Light.

            Let all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”

            Amen.