A Star is Born

 We spend six weeks (at least) preparing for the first day of Christmas. All the decorating, baking, card-writing, buying, wrapping, tinsely-music-listening leads up to the One Big Night followed by the One Big Day, which trickles into a Few More Days until we run smack into New Year's. Then it's over. Completely over. Pack up the stockings, lights, and crumpled ribbon.


Papa and the kids and I made a Sioux Falls run last week, one day after New Year's Day. We needed an oil change and paper products and a few groceries and--of course--just a few organizing items for New Year reorganizing. The sky was a dull grey, the wind a hesitant spitter of occasional snowflakes, the slush on the roadsides ugly, the grime on the van even worse. And in every bright, orderly store, beyond the bargain bins and 70% off sections, we saw absolutely no signs of Christmas. Zip. Zero. Nada fa-la-la-la-la.

This doesn't surprise me. After all, we live in a commercial culture that literally survives on the Next Big Thing, largely hinged on days marked in grey on our calendars. (Of course, Valentine's Day stuff stood front and center in the stores we visited.) But it's disconcerting to Christians like us, who know that, on paper at least, there really are twelve days of Christmas that lead right into the Holy Feast day that used to crown the Church Year: Epiphany.

What? Epiphany is a big deal? For most people, including churchgoers who don't even attend an Epiphany service every year (when it doesn't fall on a Sunday), this sounds surprising, maybe even ridiculous. The Wise Men get a thirty-second inclusion in most Christmas pageants, a smack-together mish-mash of their long, arduous, miraculous journey that Matthew recounts. Why make a big deal out of guys  on camels? We don't even know how many of them came to visit Jesus. We don't, despite the popular notion, know any of their names.They showed up, dropped off, got out. Right?

Or maybe not.

I remember a picture I saw years ago of a Greek Orthodox priest reading the Bible. The caption said the priest was preparing for Christmas, which his church celebrated in January. At the time I thought, mistakenly, that the priest and his church just celebrated Christmas on Epiphany. The idea of people having to slog through rampant, commercialized Christmas weeks after the the rest of the world was completely beyond the holiday stuck with me. How, I wondered, did they cherish Christ's birthday in the midst of the long, long emphasis on December 25 everywhere else? My question now applies to Epiphany. How do we appreciate it when we're burnt out from six weeks of celebrating? Maybe we isolate themselves from our culture (not likely). Maybe we capitulate to all the stuff but exercise massive self-restraint and manage to wait for weeks (um, not likely). Or maybe we find some other reason for cherishing Epiphany.

This excerpt from an Epiphany sermon from St. John's in Wauwatosa helps us here:

We are told that the Wise Man came from the east, but exactly how far east we don’t know.  We aren’t sure who they were either, but we do know who they weren’t, and that is significant.  These men were not Jewish.  They were not among God’s chosen people.  They weren’t descendants of Abraham, and yet they were included in the promise God gave to Abraham: “All peoples on earth will be blessed through you” (Genesis 12:3).

God loved the Jewish people.  He gave them hope.  He gave them a home.  When they strayed, he warned them.  When they repented, he forgave them.  But God’s love is too big for just one race.  God loves all people.  He loves Jews and Gentiles.  He loves you and me.  And if you need proof of God’s grace, look no farther than the Epiphany gospel.

Somehow, some way, God’s promise of a Savior reached hundreds of miles beyond the borders of Israel.  And when God fulfilled his promise he gave the rest of the world a sign.  He gave us a star.  And through that star God gave the Wise Men the opportunity to meet their Savior face-to-face. ...

For Gentile Christians the difference between Christmas and Epiphany is sort of like the difference between being a guest at a party and being the guest of honor.  For the most part the Christmas story is a Jewish story.  Mary was Jewish.  Joseph was Jewish.  The shepherds were Jewish.  The rest of us stand on the sidelines.  We are allowed to observe everything that happens.  We can appreciate everything that happens, but we don’t really have an active role.

Epiphany is different.  This account wasn’t just written for us.  It was written about us.

Even our family, a pastor's family, struggles to honor Christmas all the way until January 6th. We want to move ahead and get on with the rest of the year (and our newly-inspired goals). I want to clean up and get the house "back to normal." But maybe in future years we'll put off putting up with Christmas during Advent (at least for so long). Maybe we'll enjoy the twelve days without rushing away from Christ's gifts. Maybe we'll remember and cherish that He came for us, yes, every one of us. Just as He came for every one of you.