Epiphany Eve 2006 I survived my first year of seminary ...

Epiphany Eve 2006
I survived my first year of seminary dormitory living with the help of

an astrologer. My friend Gloria lived in the dorm room just above me, and
whenever there was high drama happening on the first floor, I would head
upstairs to try to sort it all out. “They all just wish they could sleep with
each other,” Gloria would say sagely. Whether true or not she helped me
steer clear of most of the drama-rama, the high-octane romances, the intense
friendships and fallings out, the academic loyalties and the competition
among many brilliant and needy seminarians. Gloria supported herself in
part as an astrologer; as she saw it, the study of the stars and their meaning
along with theological learning were perfect companions whether you follow
ancient Biblical practices or medieval traditions. Gloria also worked in
catering, as did I, but perhaps that’s a story for Maundy Thursday more than
Epiphany.

Scholars believe that the three wise men, the three kings, however
many there were and whether or not the gender matters, were astrologers,
from the courts of foreign rulers. Epiphany is the celebration of God’s
appearing, manifesting as one among us, God among us, to and for all
people. One story of Epiphany is the inclusion of foreigners, Gentiles,
strangers among those claimed by God – as in tonight’s Gospel. Another
story is the recognition among the faithful followers of God that God had
come among them as one of them – as in the account of Jesus’ baptism
which we will hear on Sunday. Yet another integral story is the surprise of
God’s transformative presence bringing joy – as in the tale of the wedding at
Cana. All God in flesh made manifest.

Epiphany is a season of signs, signs from above, from below, from
among us, all calling us to new and deeper relationship with God and one
another, all calling us – not so much to find Christ among us as a destination,
as if we all need to gather in the same place. Rather calling us to find Christ
among as we go, along our journeys that take us different ways, long and
short, over the hills and/or through the desert. We are called to a journey on
which we must seek, read and interpret the signs in the midst of the drama-
rama of human life.

During this season of God made manifest we will observe MLK, Jr.
day and Black history month. I can think of no better example of an
Epiphany journey than those who worked for and led the Civil Rights

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Movement of the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s. A great spiritual/movement hymn that
became the name for the video documentary series is Eyes on the Prize.
Originally the words to the spiritual were: “Got my hand on the gospel plow.
Wouldn’t take nothin’ for my journey now. Keep your hand on the plow,
hold on.” Alice Wine of South Carolina thought of the new line more
familiar to us, so with the movement words the song became: “Paul and
Silas bound in jail, Had no money for their bail. Keep your eyes on the
prize, hold on.”1

Through whatever miracle and strength of spirit, people committed to
freedom and justice kept their eyes on the prize through the drama of their
days: the drama of opposition, the Herodian powers of police dogs, water
canons, imprisonment and outright murderous violence; the drama of
competition, of who’s in charge here, who’s getting the credit, who deserves
recognition and who doesn’t (I’m thinking about the often unnamed women,
the closeted gay men and lesbians, the corruption of the famous, and the
desire by opponents to take down the heroes). Eyes on the prize through the
glacial pace of change and the both fickleness and necessity of white
American’s support. I don’t mean to suggest that there wasn’t bickering,
real disagreement, betrayals and power-plays; I do mean that enough people
kept their eyes on the prize, enough remained hopeful and true, that change
happened, and kept happening, in a way that I am not sure we believe
possible today.

Today it feels like we don’t believe we can make it across the desert,
that we anticipate many Herods at every turn rather than one who can be
organized around. We are overwhelmed—not by the possibility of God
among us—but by not seeing God in any of the familiar places. We settle
for the idea of not being able to make the journey, we resign our own agency
and power, we accept the impossibility of being surprised by joy. This is
precisely why God was born among us, exactly why the star was set in the
sky, and why we remember these stories every year: to interrupt business as
usual, and to recall surprise after surprise of goodness and grace. Epiphany
is a time of renewal and expansion of God’s project of peace, power and joy
on earth, and a time to refresh our strength and faithfulness to pursue it.
This Epiphany let us pray for the wisdom to see the star and the courage to
follow it, to keep our eyes on the prize and hold on.

1 See Everybody Says Freedom: A history of the civil rights movement in songs and pictures. By Pete
Seeger and Bob Reiser, 1989.

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Let us pray:
God of gold, we seek your glory:
The richness that transforms our drabness into color, and brightens our
dullness with vibrant light;
Your wonder and joy at the heart of all life.
God of incense we offer you our prayers:
Our spoken and unspeakable longings, our questioning of truth, our heated
passions and our searching for your mystery deep within.
God of myrrh, we cry out to you in our suffering:
The pain of al our rejections and bereavements, our baffled despair at
undeserved suffering, and our rage at continuing injustice in the world;
And we embrace you, God with us,
In our wealth, in our yearning, in our anger and loss.
Give us grace to seek you where you may be found,
That the wisdom of this world may be humbled and discover your
unexpected joy, through Jesus Christ, our brother, savior, redeemer and
friend. Amen.2

2 From Jan Berry, Bread of Tomorrow, and Janet Morley, All Desires Known.

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