We were standing
in the middle of the street, looking around, wondering why there weren’t more
people. It was early, but I didn’t think it was that early. I looked at my wife and shrugged, “I guess this is it.”
So we milled about with a handful of others waiting to begin.
But over the
next five minutes the swell of hoots and hollers cascaded in from either end of
the street.
People strolled
down the block with varying volumes of enthusiasm bundled up in coats and hats,
popping bottles of champagne. The more festive folks wore glittery costumes, reflecting
in the light, ready to provide an impromptu side-show to the main event.
It was the New
Year’s Eve Ball Drop in Hampden and about 2 to 300 people of all walks of life,
people of all races and ethnicities, ages, sexual orientations, and economic
statuses were drawn to the corner of Chestnut Ave. and 34th Street.
Like the
captivating light of a bug zapper, we were drawn by the light of a star, a
tacky, plastic, multi-colored star; a star that symbolized the arrival of a new
year; a star that invites us to leave behind the darkness of yesterday to
embrace the hopeful light of a new day.
We were drawn by
this star because in many ways it was
a rough year. The 2013 Year-End Newsreel
reminds us of destruction and harm: natural disasters in Oklahoma and the
Philippines; senseless violence at the Boston Marathon and Nairobi’s Westgate
Mall; and the volatile tension of the infamous sequester and government
shutdown.
Here in Hampden,
St. Luke’s said farewell and Godspeed to its long-time pastor. It didn’t make
the Baltimore Sun or the evening news, but the grieving process for any
congregation in transition is real and for this one, facing the possibility of
closure only amplifies the loss. The cloud of despair darkens the people of our
congregation.
Ours is a world hungry
for the hope of good news, for the light of possibility. And so we follow the
star, a tacky, plastic, multi-colored star.
It was the sudden
appearance of a star that drew out these travelers from the East, but to call
them “wise men” is a bit of an assumption.
The Greek text
calls them “μαγοι” or magi which is where we get the words magic and magician.
These were people who read the stars, the people who write horoscopes and
determine ones destiny from tea leaves and tarot cards, astrologers, not to be
confused with astronomers. The point, they were NOT Jewish.
These
foreigners; these people who live differently, these people who believe differently are among the first
to whom God reveals the birth of the Jewish
Messiah; and they are the same people to share this good news of great joy with
the Jewish king.
Herod - said
Jewish king - is merely a puppet of the Empire, happy to comply as long as he
has his wealth and stature. Herod is not particularly known for his piety among
the Jewish people. And while he basks in his riches, the rest of Judea feels
the pinch of Imperial oppression. All they could do is wait for the promised
One - the Messiah whose arrival Herod has every reason to fear. The cloud of
despair darkens the people of Israel.
However, through
the cunning movement of a star, the very objects these particular outsiders pay
close attention to, God draws the magi westward by its radiance. They know this
new light means something big and God leads them to find that this child, the
promised one, in the radiant majesty of his humble innocence has indeed come
into the world.
Standing on 34th
street counting down to the New Year, gazing up at the falling star, listening
to the shouts of “so long 2013” I was hopeful for the New Year. Not because we
can put the crap behind us, but because we
follow the light of a different star, a star that not only gives us hope for a
new day, but the star whose light
reveals Christ’s presence in our world right here, right now leading us to be
people of the light, and transforming the world over in 2014.
If we re-ran the
2013 Year-End Newsreel, we’d see Christ everywhere. Christ in rescue and
emergency response workers, Christ in every fantastically shocking word of Pope
Francis, Christ in the Senate Chaplain rebuking legislative madness, Christ in our
new presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton reminding us of our identity as people of
the light, revealing Christ in us and in the world.
The light of this star shines brightly on the corner
of Chestnut Ave and 36th
street, here at St. Luke’s. But Christ’s illuminating presence shines brightest
within each one of us people of the light. As we go out into this community and
into the world, Christ reveals his presence. Through this light that shines
through our darkest flaws, Christ draws near to him people of all walks of
life, even those who live differently, and believe differently, the outsiders,
yes, even astrologers.
Ours is a world
hungry for the hope of good news, and for the light of possibility. As a community
we may gaze upon that tacky, plastic, multi-colored star that symbolizes the
arrival of a new year. We may relish the idea of leaving behind the darkness of
yesterday for the light of a new day. But as people of the light, we follow the
star that reveals the light of Christ in us and in the world; The light of
Christ shattering the darkness of despair, transforming grief into peace, and
fear into hope yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Amen.
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