Epiphany

Sermon Notes for Sunday 11th January

by Desiree Snyman

This year the season of epiphany is reminding me that small things, done with great love, matter to God and transform the cosmos. 

The following poem is by Jan Richardson:

Wise women also came.
The fire burned in their wombs long before
they saw
the flaming star in the sky.

They walked in shadows, trusting the path
would open under the light of the moon.

Wise women also came,
seeking no directions,
no permission from any king.

They came by their own authority,
their own desire,
their own longing.

They came in quiet, spreading no rumours,
sparking no fears to lead to innocents’ slaughter,
to their sister Rachel’s inconsolable lamentations.

Wise women also came,
and they brought useful gifts:
water for labour’s washing,
fire for warm illumination,
a blanket for swaddling.

Wise women also came,
at least three of them,
holding Mary in the labour,
crying out with her in the birth pangs,
breathing ancient blessings into her ear.

Wise women also came,
and they went,
as wise women always do,
home a different way.

There is no biblical record of midwives assisting at the birth of Jesus. Nor is there a Biblical record for three kings, camels, donkeys, a stable or a cow yet our traditions are happy to accept their presence at the nativity. (St Francis was the first to pageant a creche scene which he did to emphasise that God is with us in creation). Could we stretch out imaginations to accept the possibility that wise women may have assisted at the birth of Mary’s child? After all, Mary was young, possibly 14, 15 or 16 years old and this was her first pregnancy. Sure, there is no evidence for the presence of wise women midwives, whose contribution may have been so obvious or insignificant that it was overlooked. Yet, small things, like supporting a woman in labour, done with great love, matter to God and transform the world. How many other small things done with great love are happening right now, transforming our world, yet we may have no record of them? Yet small actions done with great love matter to God. 

Today’s address is “Epiphany and Empire”. Both words are explained. Epiphany means divine manifestation. From January 6 churches celebrate the end of the 13 days of Christmas and the beginning of the season of epiphany, the giving of light in the darkness, enlightenment, the manifestation of God’s glory, the gift of divine revelation in Christ. The Old Testament lesson stirs our hope: “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you. For darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the Lord will arise upon you, and his glory will appear.” The promise of epiphany’s hope will sound irrelevant unless it inhabits real world politics. We might spend a Sunday hour reading “Arise Shine” and singing hymns about light but at some point, we will go home, switch on the news, and confront a world at war, indifferent to the type of justice Jesus imagined. Take heart, the Good News of Christmas and Epiphany was and is born in the shadow of empire, reminding us that seemingly insignificant people, and seemingly insignificant actions like changing direction, matter to God and transform the world. 

I use the word empire as a general description for the oppressive and massive control power seeks to extend geographically, politically, economically, intellectually, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, culturally, and religiously. In the past empire referred to nation states such as the empires of Babylon, Rome or England but empire could also refer to the wide-reaching control technocrats and oligarchs seek to impose on society. The effects of empire are long lasting. Even after empire has fallen, been defeated or retreated, empire’s impact still wounds, just ask post-Colonial Africa, and First Nations Australians. While Australians might enjoy relative peace in a relatively stable democracy, we are not immune from the sting and influence of empires and the brutality of the rulers that control them. 

What media today has in common with the historical records of antiquity is that the focus is almost exclusively on powerful and famous personalities who succeed within empire. That is how we know about Herod. While the writing of classical history might salute the architectural mark Herod left on history, theology and scripture point out that Herod’s grandiose constructions were paid for by taxing the poor. Theology and Scripture recognise that Herod ran an empire within an empire. Herod’s Jerusalem was like a police-state, complete with loyalty oaths, surveillance, informers, secret police, imprisonment, torture and brutal retaliation against any serious dissenter.

There are places in the world that echo the empire of Herod and of Rome. In the face of big politics, and significant challenges, it is easy to feel helpless; what can any one person do to change the injustice and pain caused by empire and inhumane systems?

The nativity stories centre on ordinary, easily overlooked people, Jewish refugees, through whom God changes the world. When the visitors from the East have offered their gifts, they return home by another road. A small decision to change direction becomes an act that saves lives. Against the crushing force of empire stands the quiet, liberating power of human presence and moral courage. Are our own choices, made in a time of violence and domination, really of any less weight, even when we feel small? So, the Messiah continues to enter history quietly, like a thief in the night, not through spectacle or force, but through moments of faithful, hidden grace (1 Thess 5:2).

Little things done with great love matter to God and transform the world. Epiphany invites us to remember the quiet stories of resistance, carried by people of conscience who acted without knowing how their choices would turn out. May these stories steady us and give us courage in our own time, when empires still loom large and the need for faithful, loving, and brave small acts has never been greater.