Wednesday, January 6, 2016

Night Vision (Epiphany ABC)


Battista Dossi Ferrara c. 1475 1548 The Adoration of the Magi 
 
Night Vision
6 January 2016
Feast of the Epiphany
7 p.m. Sung Eucharist
Parish Church of Trinity Ashland, Oregon
Isaiah 60:1-6; Ephesians 3:1-12; Matthew 2:1-12; Psalm 72:1-7,10-14
God, take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

Today’s Gospel tells the story of strange figures from the East arriving in Jerusalem seeking the child born “King of the Jews.”  The visitors are called Magoi (Latin: Magi).  The Greek word often describes Persian astrologers or diviners, or even Zoroastrian priests.  The word is related to our word “magician” and always is tinged with Mystery and the Occult.  Probably the best translation for it is Wizards.
 
In this story, the wizards are inspired to go on pilgrimage to the West by interpreting astronomical events in light of their esoteric lore.   They do not know the details, but rather have only a general idea that somehow this star is associated with a royal birth for the strange monotheistic people called Jews.   They don’t have a clue where the birth has taken place, of who it might be.  They make the long arduous journey and arrive in Jerusalem, going to the obvious place to ask about such a birth: the royal court.   Thus they are caught up in the intrigues of a petty tyrant, Herod, who styles himself as King of the Jews but has only doubtful claim to either title.

The magi are symbols of the gentile nations coming to Christ.  They are archetypes for all pilgrims.  They pursue their course based on dark hints and shadows in their lore, and find a new understanding of everything.  They pursue the dim light of a night star to the bright star of the morning, Jesus. 

In a way, their journey reflects the journey of faith that each of us makes.   Little glimpses of glory lead us to make a deeper commitment to pursue further light and truth.  We end up in strange places, unexpected situations.  And we turn aside to new paths as we learn more and more on the way. 

T.S. Eliot puts these words onto the lips of one of the Magi: 

‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.’
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.

Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly...

These strange visitors had very little to go on.  Yet they set off on a long trip based on their dusty tomes of forgotten lore.  They see the star, but it is not all that noticeable or visible to those about them.  Clearly imagination is a key part of what drives them.  I suspect that Eliot is right:  these guys must have wondered at the folly of their enterprise. 

Those of you who have done any star-gazing know that often a star is invisible when you look straight at where it is supposed to be.  But if you avert your eyes slightly, there, in your peripheral vision, the star shines out clearly.  Apparently Galileo Galilei was a master at using his peripheral vision to see all sorts of things up there that others had missed, things like the four largest moons of Jupiter and Saturn’s rings.  He helped this out, to be sure, by grinding glass lenses and putting them into a “far-sight” or telescope to help gather more light than his own natural eye could, even in periphery. This is why the Indigo Girls, in their great hymn to seeing the subtleties in life like hints of reincarnation sing, “I call on the resting soul of Galileo, king of night vision, king of insight.” 
   
That is, I think, how faith is for all of us.  We get a little glimpse of glory and then, encouraged by others or driven by God speaking to our heart, we dedicate time, wealth, and effort to it.  More often than not, we do not come to faith by looking directly at such a thing as “Religion,” or “God.”  Rather, we get little glimpses in our peripheral vision.  Things that once were puzzles start making sense. 

People who say that they somehow do not believe in God usually mean they do not believe in a guy (always a male, usually with a white beard) “out there” somewhere who interferes on occasion with matters and demands our love and worship.  (“He is, after all, a ‘jealous’ one, he!”)  This is, however, a petty caricature of the living, creating Ground of Being and Love Itself.  God is not “out there” somewhere.  God is beneath and behind all.  Luke describes St. Paul speaking to the Athenians and saying of God “In him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). 

If we try to look at God head-on, and think of God as “out there somewhere,” we diminish the idea of God.  We reduce the object of our worship to a kind of supernatural wacky great uncle or an imaginary friend with super powers.  Such a god is not really God, but a sort of demiurge or daemon.  When we feel hurt or anguish, it is easy to feel betrayed by such a Deity.  God thus diminished is far removed from the good we see all about us, all of which comes from God directly.   

But again, using peripheral vision, our night vision, we get little glimpses of the Love beneath all things.  If we let ourselves follow, we find brighter and brighter clarity in our vision.  But, like the magi, we might be tempted to say, “No.  This is folly.” 

The key thing is following the glimpse, pursuing the glory, keeping with the sweet scent on the air, however faint. 

Thomas Merton taught about the art of using our night vision in faith in these words: 

“Life is this simple: We are living in a world that is absolutely transparent and God is shining through it all the time. This is not just a fable or a nice story. It is true. If we abandon ourselves to God and forget ourselves, we see it sometimes, and we see it maybe frequently. God shows [God’s] self everywhere, in everything - in people and in things and in nature and in events. It becomes very obvious that He is everywhere and in everything and we cannot be without [God].  It's impossible. It's simply impossible. The only thing is that we don't [recognize this].” 

Faith is trust in this Ground of Being, who is not less than personal.  Indeed, the doctrine of the Holy Trinity teaches us that God is more than personal, and includes the social as well.   

I think that gratitude is the emotion that best connects us with God.  Trust is a close second.  Both of these are in fact expressions of love.  And God is, in fact, Love Itself. Love, trust, and gratitude give us eyes to see God, first in peripheral short glimpses, later in deeper and deeper glory.   

In prayer and meditation, try to reflect on the Beauty of God’s Holiness while feeling this love.  It helps.   

In the name of Christ, Amen.

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