“What Gift Do We Bring?”

by Bruce J. Johnson

January 5, 2002

 

I have always been fond of the story that J. Barrie Shepherd tells of the little boy attending his first ever Epiphany service—one solely dedicated to the contemplation of the meaning of the visit of the three wise men, three kings, or three astrologers, whichever you prefer. He watched the three Magi lining up in the back of the church, getting ready to walk down the aisle, and nudged his mother and said, “Don’t look now, but God just got here… only I’m not sure which one he is.”

 

Well, it was an honest mistake by a youngster and actually, not far off the mark. Epiphany is about the recognition of the arrival of God---literally, the ‘manifestation’ or the ‘revelation’ of God in Christ to the world. It is about a Star that led three wise men through the hostility and deception of the world to the light and truth in Christ. We’re supposed to believe that God has arrived and we know that God is with us now in Jesus Christ.

 

Matthew’s story of their journey manages to express in 11 short verses the truth and mystery of faith:

 the truth that people will come from afar and by many routes to discover the light;

the truth that no place in this world is too humble or lowly to welcome the light and kneel before Him;

 

the truth that as knowledge grows so does reverence and love;

 

the truth that wise people are people of action and can act as people of thought and reason as well as passion;

 

and the mystery of the star, shining over Bethlehem—a sign hung high in the night sky to symbolize the deepest longing of everyone, which is for light in darkness, hope in the midst of despair and the sustaining belief that love conquers all.

 

(Credit given to the Rev. Patricia de Jong, fccb, for some of these opening thoughts)

Some years ago, the same J Barrie Shepherd, senior pastor at the First Presbyterian Church in New York City wrote a very useful Christmas book titled: Faces at the Manger.  It is a collection of reflections and poems about various attendees at the manger that first Christmas. One of his poems, along with a brief introduction, goes as follows:

 

          “These magi find their wisdom redirected from the foretelling

of the future to the unveiling of the significance of the present moment in all its givenness.”

 

“Discovering the Present”

          Our trade is with the future

          as a rule,

          charting the bright courses, channels,

          navigations of the distant lighted vessels

          of the heavens, probing through the viscera

of sacrificial beasts,

observing birds in flight, relating

visions of the night to what will come

to pass in days and years ahead.

 

This white and mobile star, however,

tells us nothing of what is to be,

directs the sight instead

toward what is.

I mean the present, here and now,

and what, or better, who is born

within the tight but waking moment.

The Presence of new life

awaits our presence

and the precious gifts we too might bear

inside the stable of the self.       

 

Isn’t that beautiful? “The Presence of new life awaits our presence and the gifts we too might bear inside the stable of the self.”

 

Indeed, within these twelve days of Christmas, still held up at some home in Bethlehem awaiting his presentation and his mother’s purification, as we mentioned last week, he awaits our presence and what we bear as gifts of the self.

Tradition and its interpretation, of course, claims that the Three Kings brought three gifts. They brought gold representing their worldly wealth, frankincense – their innermost thoughts and feelings and then there was the myrrh, which because of its use in embalming has come to stand for our sorrow and our suffering, the hardest things perhaps to dedicate to Christ--- or so it seems. Too often, when we lose someone we love through death or a spouse through divorce, or a hope through an illness or a job through bad economic times or the present conditions of corruption and greed, we often turn away in anger and bitterness forgetting that God’s heart is as broken as ours. And God only wants us to come to that place in his love where we can find rest and peace and hope and renewed strength. We’ve all heard it said often:

          “Let Go and Let God”

 

In this month’s Church Call, I included a wonderful poem by Cheryl Kristolaitis. I hope that you not only enjoyed it but that it gave you pause to ponder the significance of its message--- that perhaps myrrh was the most precious of all gifts--- not only because it symbolizes our sorrow and suffering but His and what it means for us. Myrrh might, in fact, be the outward and visible, if not physical sign of their inner and spiritual acknowledgement of Christ’s ultimate purpose and efficacy--- that he would suffer and die so that we may live--- today and forever.

His triumph is our triumph

Because he suffered and die and was raised, so are we...

 

Can there be a more precious gift offered Christ--- than our faith and our trust?

“I Always Had to Carry the Myrrh”

                  

Not for me the glitter of gold,

nor the gummy fragrance of frankincense.

Those great and glorious gifts

that spoke of royalty and worship, dignity and adoration,

were carried by others deemed more worthy of their glory.

I always had to carry the myrrh,

reluctant bearer of an unwelcomed gift.

I had heard the hymn often enough.

I knew what its bitter perfume meant.

“Sorrowing, sighing, bleeding dying,

sealed in the stone cold tomb.”

It was as if I pierced the joy of every Christmas pageant

with the desolation of Good Friday,

dragging my feet up the aisle,

sure no one wanted my gift to be given.

 

Decades have passed since I last crossed that stage.

The years have taught me the richness of that gift.

To enter the suffering knowing it will bend but not break you,

silence the body but not the soul,

is to rob it of its pain

and to release its power.

 

If I were to carry the myrrh once again,

I would not skulk my way to the Christ child.

No, I would carry it as the precious gift it is—

 

the bittersweet fragrance of life itself.

 

I was watching C-Span last Friday while the snow fell outside. I happened to catch the statements made by Damon and Brenda Van Dam at the sentencing of David Westerfield for the kidnapping and brutal murder of their 7 year old daughter, Danielle. She spoke of her child as a light in their lives, taken from them by evil… The unspeakable evil, their unthinkable horror, the level of their pain and their grief was so powerful. Is there anything that engages and moves us more than what might or could and sadly, does happen to our children?

 

And yet, last week there was Mary hearing from Simeon that her son came for the rise and fall of many in Israel, as a sign spoken against and a sword would pierce her soul too!

 

And here was Mary and Joseph today watching one of three wisemen offer myrrh as his gift--- perhaps the precious gift it is--- the bittersweet fragrance of life itself—all our sweet joys and bitter sufferings…

 

But what gives us such confidence in offering this gift if not our fundamental faith in the triumph God’s love, shown to us in Christ, the baby of Bethlehem, the man of Nazareth, the Suffering Servant, the risen Christ?

 

What gift do we bring this morning? Let us bring our faith that amidst the darkness there is light, amidst the despair there is hope, amidst the evil there is goodness incarnate and through death there is new life--- because love conquers all.

                                                                                Amen