A light that demands a choice. The revelation of the light of the world.
Matthew 2:1-12
Ieva Graufelde, pastor, dean emerita
Light never appears in a void. It rises in darkness that resists it. Darkness that seeks to smother hope, to extinguish the promise, to destroy life. Epiphany draws a line – neither loud nor violent – but a clear boundary. It calls us to choose: will we stand on the side of the light, or will we let the darkness use us.
This is the story of the wise men. Of people who looked at the heavens and saw a sign. A star. In their heavens. In their part of the world. The wise men came from Persia – from another land, another culture, another religious language. And yet – they were wise in their own tradition. They knew: when a new ruler is born into the world, a star shines forth in the heavens. The star appeared. And then – it disappeared. But they did not lose their way. They followed its trajectory and kept walking. How much faith there is in this walking, when the sign is no longer visible, but the heart still remembers the light!
This is the gospel for those who are on the outside. They notice the signs, follow the truth of their hearts, and see what others – even with the Scriptures in hand – do not see. One can know the Scriptures – and yet not obey them. One can quote the prophecies – and yet not believe them. One can hear the word of God – and yet not live by it.
The wise men seek someone to worship with all their heart and mind. And, since they do not find this in their own tradition, they dare to step outside it. Many of those who will later join Matthew’s community will be precisely such people: pagans, sinners, outcasts, strangers. This is the story of those who see and of those who are blind. This is not a comfortable story – it is not consoling, but it is true, and the fact that it stands in the second chapter of the gospel means that it is essential.
Where am I in this story?
The question is no longer about the wise men. The question is about us. Where am I in this story? In the structures of religion? Close to power? At a safe distance from risk?
Herod asks the priests and the scribes: “Where is the child to be born?” And they answer correctly, quoting the Scriptures. “Bethlehem, from you will come a Ruler who will shepherd my people – Israel.” But they do not go, do not rise, do not change anything either. To know the truth does not yet mean to follow it.
The star appears again when the wise men leave Jerusalem – the center of power, the place where religion and politics merge. For God is not found in the centers of power. Not where religion serves fear. Not where truth is exploited. The star appears on the road. In motion. In departure. And they rejoice and follow the star until they come to the child. Only after they have seen the child and worshiped a new kind of power do they receive instruction in a dream: “Return home by another road!”
Dreams are God’s quiet language. Not to be explained, but to be obeyed. And the wise men obey. Worship always changes one’s direction. If you have truly met the God of Life, you cannot return the same way you came. The wise men bring gifts: gold – for a king, frankincense – for God, myrrh – for the one who will also bear death. And in return they receive something more: wisdom, the ability to distinguish light from darkness, life from destruction.
What do we bring to this child? What do we lay before him? Our light – precisely there, where the world is darkened. And if we truly meet the Savior, we cannot remain unchanged. We return home in the peace of Christ – with open hearts, with empty hands, clearer and wiser concerning life and death, far more aware of the good and the evil that lie hidden among us.
Our new road is the child’s road, the road of peace, the road of the cross, the road of light, the road of resurrection.
God is here. The Word has become flesh. And has pitched his tent among us.
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An Epiphany prayer
In silence we come into Your light, God.
A light that does not blind,
but reveals.
A light that does not rule,
but calls.
In this Epiphany season
You show us Your glory
not in power, not in splendor,
but in a child,
in a quiet presence,
in need and in faithfulness.
We confess, Lord,
that we often seek You
in the wrong places –
where there is security,
where there is control,
where there is power.
Give us the courage of the wise men
to go beyond the familiar,
to follow the light,
even when the road is not clear.
Open our eyes,
that we may see the signs in Your world,
open our hearts,
that they may recognize the truth,
open our lives,
that we may bring light
where fear and darkness dwell.
We lay before You
what we have:
our time,
our vulnerability,
our hope.
Lead us, Lord,
by another road,
when we have met You.
Teach us to walk the road of peace,
the child’s road,
the road of light.
For You are the God of Life,
who reveals himself in the darkness of the world
and remains with us.
Amen.
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Illustration: Arta Skuja