There is story about a king of Balkh (now northern Afghanistan) named Ebrahim ibn Adam. Ebrahim was wealthy according to every earthly measure. At the same time, however, he sincerely and restlessly strove to be wealthy spiritually as well.
“One night the king was roused from sleep by a fearful stomping on the roof above his bed. Alarmed, he shouted: ‘Who’s there?’ ‘A friend,’ came the reply from the roof. ‘I’ve lost my camel.’ Perturbed by such stupidity, Ebrahim screamed: ‘You fool! Are you looking for a camel on the roof?’ ‘You fool!’ the voice from the roof answered. ‘Are you looking for God in silk clothing, and lying on a golden bed?’ ” The king was changed by this event, refocused his spiritual search, and became a most remarkable saint.(1)
The camel on the roof raises the Epiphany question, Where are you looking for God? This is an appropriate life question of life as we start a new year, just as its companion question, Where have you found God? Is a good way to review a passing year. Our readings today raise the camel-on-the-roof question in one form or another. Each one is a camel-on-the-roof reminder that God is not to be found where the world’s princes and powers reside. God will more likely be found in humble kitchens than in royal parlors. Each text calls us to be like the king's friend, willing to make a fool of ourselves asking the camel-on-the-roof question to a world busy seeking God in all the wrong places, willing to rouse the world with the message of “Arise! Shine! Your light has come.”
There is another Arabic story, “Seventeen Camels,” that tells of a man who died and left his seventeen camels to be divided among his three sons. One was to receive one ninth; another one half; and the third son one third of the camels. Seventeen camels, however, aren't evenly divisible by three. The three sons argued long and loud about what to do. In desperation they agreed to let a certain wise man decide for them. He was seated in front of his tent with his own camel staked out back.
After hearing the case, the wise man took his own camel and added it to the other seventeen camels. He then gave th first son one-ninth of the eighteen, or two camels. To the second son he gave one half, or nine camels. To the third son he gave one third, or six camels. On top of it all, he still had his own camel left. (2)
Many of us try to find God and solve the problems of life by logical, calculating schemes that insure we receive our share. But God is to be found in receiving, not grasping; in giving, not claiming our rights; in the simple, not the ponderous; in the everyday, not the once in a lifetime.
If we are looking for God in the midst of getting or in the midst of thinking about ourselves first, we won’t find God. That’s a problem if we claim to be believers. If believers can’t find God, there has to be something wrong.
Epiphany is about God becoming visible in the world. If we look at the series of gospel readings for the next six weeks, they are all about the world realizing who Jesus is.
Let’s work backwards to today. The reading for the last Sunday after Epiphany is the account of Jesus and three disciples on the mountain when Jesus is transformed before their eyes. The vision is sealed with God’s words, “This is my Son, my chosen one. Listen to him!” (Luke 9:35). These are an echo of the words we will hear next week in the reading about Jesus’ baptism when a voice from heaven declares, “You are my Son, whom I dearly love; in you I find happiness” (Luke 3:22).
In between those readings, Jesus attends a wedding where witnessed by the servants he turns water into wine. Then Jesus attended his home synagogue in Nazareth where he reads a passage from Isaiah about being anointed by the Spirit and announces that the prophet’s words are fulfilled in the congregants’ hearing. The people, many of whom have known him since he was a lad, reject his revelatory message, and call on him to remember who they know him to be. Rebuffed by his reminder that Elijah preached and healed among non-believers, they run Jesus out of town.
The people most equipped to recognize Jesus failed to see him. And those least qualified to identify Jesus had an innate sense that he was the Lord.
The magi are part of this upended procession of those unlikely to recognize Jesus. They readily recognize him as more than another child. They know that he is beloved and special, even if they don’t have the theological framework on which to hang their belief. They have three reasons for not being expected to know Jesus.
They are not wise men in the traditional sense. They are magi, stargazers, astrologers, astronomers, seers. They observe the heavens for portents and omens, for signs of impending blessing or misfortune. People who didn’t understand what the magi were talking about may have thought that they were magicians, something like the church’s ill-conceived responses to Copernicus in the 16th century and Galileo in the 17th century. The magi are learned in the prophetic literature of the surrounding cultures. They put it all together and tried to make sense of it. That is not a basis of wisdom, just thoughtful forecasting.
The magi are not kings. They may have access to costly gifts, but that doesn’t make them kings. They rule over nothing other than the predictions they derive from reading star charts. In today’s world they might be astronomers and physicists working for NASA. In fact, they were probably being overly forward in asking Herod about the king they were seeking, as they would have had no reason to have access to a king.
And the magi were not believers. All sorts of suggestions are made about what their foundational beliefs might have been. It doesn’t really matter. They were not followers of the Hebrew God. Any knowledge they had of Judaism was purely esoteric. They were not believers, but they recognized Jesus as a king without equal. And they knew that his presence was a threat to the existing order of things. They knew that Herod’s interest was not sincere and that Jesus would come to outshine Herod or his successors.
So because the magi were not wise in the usual way, because they were not kings, and because they were not believers in the God of the Jews, their witness has credibility. They believed when people did not and would not, people who would go to great lengths ultimately to disprove Jesus. So the three nots or noes of the magi equal a yes which has rung through heaven and earth ever since they followed the star. Their honoring of Jesus flies in the face of the subsequent stubborn ignorance of his neighbors and Herod’s fear and wanton hatred. Jesus is the light which has come into the world and the darkness of the world – hatred, fear, evil, greed, ignorance – has not extinguished it.
President David Esterline of Pittsburgh Theological Seminary wrote this week that a colleague reminded him of words a rabbi wrote to his congregation in New York just after the terrorist attacks of 9/11. In response to the question, what is the remedy to wanton hatred? The rabbi wrote,
“Wanton love. Raw, cold-blooded, fanatical, baseless, relentless hatred can be matched and combated only with pure, undiscriminating, uninhibited, unyielding, baseless, unsolicited love and acts of kindness. But we need not just plain love. We need love that costs us. Love that we get nothing back for. . . And when we do our part God will surely do His part to protect us and transform our world to the one we all hope and yearn for, one that will be filled with His glory, like the waters fill the ocean” (Isaiah 11:9). (3)That is what Epiphany is about – declaring to the world that hatred will lose and love will win. That love is embodied in the child born in Bethlehem and is let loose in the world every time a person comes to belief in Jesus, son of Mary, son of God.
We are agents of Epiphany. We are not wise (in fact, Paul described us as foolish). We are not kings. Even in our relative states of knowledge, wealth, and prosperity, we are simple people, trying to scratch out our lives in fear and trembling. We differ from the magi in that we are believers. Is that a disadvantage? Our belief can be lackadaisical because it is so easy to take everything for granted. Or is our belief an advantage, because we know so deeply what the magi came to realize when they met Jesus?
It’s a challenge for us to keep the faith as exciting and vital as it was experienced by shepherds and magi, and later on by sinners and foreigners. The challenge can be met as we live as reflectors of the Epiphany star-shine, as we reflect the light of Christ to the world around us and around those whom we send out to tell the good news as the magi undoubtedly did when they returned to their homes. No one is going to tell our news. We and others like us have to do it, even if we begin as unbelievers, like the magi.
Arise! shine! Your light has come; The Lord’s glory has shone upon you. (Isaiah 60:1).
(1) Walter G. Burghardt, Still Proclaiming Your Wonders: Homilies for the Eighties (New York: Paulist Press, 1984), 55.
(2) Homiletics, January 6, 1991, http://www.homileticsonline.com/subscriber/btl_display.asp?installment_id=2600
(3) David Esterline, “Pittsburgh Theological Seminary President’s Communique," January 1, 2016, https://gem.godaddy.com/p/824e07?fe=1&pact=524-128931003-8492433225-3c747678d2024d940f0151aa4c536c91c216286d
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2016 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
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