REadings (click here for full text of the readings):
   Isaiah 60:1-6, 9; Psalm 72; Ephesians 3:1-12; Matthew 2:1-12

Today we celebrate the feast of the Epiphany, which tells the story of the wise men from the East who followed the shining star in search of the baby Jesus.  They came to Jerusalem and asked King Herod where they could find “the child who has been born king of the Jews.” And Herod was frightened, and called together all the chief priests and scribes, who were obviously more familiar with the Bible than he was, because they knew that the messiah would be born in Bethlehem. So Herod played along, pretending to be interested in worshipping Jesus, rather than putting Him to death. And eventually the wise men found Jesus, and were overwhelmed with joy, and were smart enough to realize that Herod had other things in mind, and so they took the back way home, leaving the King out in the cold.

Theologically speaking, Epiphany signifies the coming of salvation to the Gentiles, as well as to the Jews.  The Old Testament is full of prophecy of the Messiah coming to save the Jewish people, but God makes it clear while Jesus is still in diapers that salvation is for everybody.  As the letter to the Ephesians says, “The Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.”  And this is quite a statement coming from Paul, who’d been one of the most devout and zealous Jews around, until he was blinded into seeing on the road to Damascus. 

In some ways, it would seem, we live in a different world today. There are still people out there who claim to be the Savior or the Messiah, but world leaders pay little attention to them. Even if three foreign sages came knocking on the door of the White House or 10 Downing Street – assuming they could get close enough to knock on the door – talking about some star leading them to a baby who would turn out to be the king, it’s hard to imagine a president or a prime minister paying any attention to them. Certainly he wouldn’t call in all the members of Congress or Parliament to decide how to respond.  There are a lot more important things to do than worry about someone claiming to be the King of the Jews.

And so some people conclude that religion isn’t all that important anymore.  They claim that we live in a secular world, and we’ve moved beyond the superstition of conventional religion. They point to studies that show dwindling church attendance, at least in most western countries.  To them, virgin births, and wise mean bringing frankincense and myrrh, and, most of all, resurrection, is the stuff of fairy tales.

And sometimes, I think, we Christians fall into the trap of believing that, too. Sure, we pray, and come to church, and all that, but we act like that stuff is only important for us, and not anybody else.  We act like worshipping Jesus is just something we like to do, rather than treating Him as the Way, the Truth, and the Life.  And so we keep our faith quiet, to ourselves, either because we don’t want to offend anyone else, or because we don’t think they’d be interested, or both.

Think about other things that we experience in our lives that bring us happiness, or healing, or meaning. We see a movie that makes us laugh or cry or understand, and we’re more than willing to say to a friend, “Hey, did you see that movie?  I think you’d really like it.”  Or if someone has a bad back, we might say, “I used to have a bad back, too, until I started seeing Doctor So-and-so or taking such-and-such medicine.”  Free advice might only be worth what you paid for it, but the bottom line is the advice shows that the other person cares.  They want to share what’s been helpful and meaningful to them. What has brought them joy in life, they want others to experience that, too.

But what about faith?  We might recommend movies or medicines without a second thought, but how would it feel to say to someone: “I used to feel that way, too, until I started going to church and praying more.”  It probably feels invasive, or uncomfortable, or possibly offensive.  And maybe even pointless, because people aren’t interested in God or church these days, right?

Nothing could be further from the truth. National polls consistently report that 9 out of every 10 Americans say they believe in God. So a lot of people that might not seem very interested in God, probably are. That was my experience last weekend, when I officiated at a friend’s wedding in Arkansas. After the reception, some friends were going to a bar in downtown Fayetteville, and they invited me to come along. Since I was dressed in a black suit and clerical collar, I initially declined, thinking that I might just put a damper on everybody’s fun.  But they prevailed, and, sure enough, as I walked through the door, the bar quieted, and people seemed rather intrigued.  I ended up striking up a conversation with some folks at the neighboring table – who reacted as if a priest hadn’t ever walked into the bar before. And we ended up spending an hour or so talking about faith, and God, and church.  “Why go to church?” they asked. “How can I know if God exists?”  I didn’t bring up the subject – they did. They wanted answers, but they’d never had the chance to ask the questions.

And as for church, the same surveys report that one in three Americans attends church weekly.  And the pessimists fond of mentioning that the Episcopal Church has lost a third of its official membership in the last thirty years must have been surprised to learn last year that attendance in Episcopal churches has increased by a third over that period. 

Epiphany is an especially fitting occasion to mention all of this, because it not only symbolizes the fact that Christ came into the world to save everyone, it emphasizes that He came to save the folks that “the chosen people” didn’t think qualified for salvation. Just as the Old Testament proclaimed the Messiah as the savior of the Jewish people, so also the early church didn’t want to let go of its Jewish roots. The debate in the book of Acts about whether Gentile Christians needed to be circumcised is a perfect example of this. The Church from the very beginning had to fight against the temptation to put up too many road blocks and restrictions. And so some churches today make following Christ an amazingly complex and onerous proposition, even though Jesus himself said that His yoke was easy, and His burden light.

Even though I haven’t used the exact word, we’re talking here about evangelism.  That word has lots of connotations – some of them not very good – but, literally, it derives from the Greek word for “good news.”  Someone might feel more comfortable with another term, like “welcome,” but in the end we’re talking about the same thing: sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with our fallen, needy world.

And the closer we look at “evangelism,” the more surprising it becomes.  First of all, a lot of people who don’t consider themselves “evangelical” actually are. I had a conversation with a parishioner a little while back about this, and she said, “Oh, I don’t evangelize.”  I asked her, then, what she did do, in terms of telling people about God, or the Church.  And she said, “Well, I tell people how much I love St. Paul’s. And I’ve invited several people to visit on a Sunday morning, and some already have.”  At that point I asked, “And what would you call that?”

At the same time, a lot of people who consider themselves “evangelical” really aren’t. Sure, they might talk about what they believe with great openness and courage. But if “evangelism” is about the good news of Jesus Christ, if you’re not talking about good news, then you’re not evangelical. If the message you preach is based on threats of hell and damnation, that doesn’t sound very good. If discipleship is a joyless, grueling slog, then it doesn’t bear much resemblance to what Jesus himself was talking about. And if the message has more to do with keeping certain people out of the kingdom than welcoming everybody in, then it bears little resemblance to Epiphany.

And Epiphany is a great opportunity to talk about this here, at St. Paul’s.  Because I feel like we’re doing some great things here.  In my humble opinion, this is a wonderful congregation with a multitude of gifts. For a so-called family sized parish, we accomplish a huge amount in our various ministries and activities. But more than that, this is a loving and supportive group of people.  And I think it’s a crying shame to keep that a secret from the world beyond our doors.

So let’s get down to the nitty-gritty. First of all, when it comes to telling others about what’s going at St. Paul’s, that’s going to have to come from you all, not me.  After all, if I talk about it, people are going to suspect ulterior motives, and might even suspect that I get paid on commission.  And they might also suspect me of being biased, because whenever I end up going on and on about the stellar preaching at St. Paul’s, people seem to doubt my impartiality.

The only people who have the ability and the authority to talk about St. Paul’s are the people of St. Paul’s, and that’s all of you. But that obviously assumes that you are nurtured and strengthened and renewed by our ministry together here.  If you aren’t, then there won’t be any good news to share.  And that’s my problem, at least in part, so I’d ask you to come to me and let’s talk about it and set things right.

If you are nurtured and strengthened and renewed, but you don’t feel like telling other people about it, then, to be blunt, that’s your problem.  Jesus told us to go into all corners of the world to spread the good news, and so if the news really is good, and you really care about the folks around you, you won’t be able to keep silent.

But say that St. Paul’s is meaningful to you and you want to tell other people, but you just don’t know how?  That’s our problem. And it’s a real one, because God can be a hard thing to talk about, because people often have a lot of baggage and preconceptions and suspicions. This is something that we all need to work through together, by sharing ideas, and thoughts, and experiences. I invite you to do that today at coffee hour, and during the week, and next week we’ll talk more about that.

Finally, if God is meaningful to you, and you want to tell people about Him, and you feel like you know how to do it, then, finally, there’s no problem.  There’s no barrier to sharing the good news of Jesus Christ with people who need to know. That’s what we’re shooting for, and, take my word for it, some people have gotten there. Earlier this week Pam and I were discussing evangelism over lunch, and there was a knock at the door.  It turned out to be a Jehovah’s Witness – although she didn’t identify herself that way – who wanted me to read some pamphlets. She knew there was a church next door. I identified myself as the priest. But she didn’t hesitate one bit. She had a message that she thought I needed to hear, and nothing was going to stop her from sharing it.

The way I figure it – if that woman was brave enough to try to evangelize a priest, we ought to be brave enough to share the good news of Jesus Christ with our friends.

[Home] [Worship] [Sermons] [Youth] [Mulch] [Projects] [Info]