Journey to the West (Epiphany)

 

A Journey to the West
7 January 2024

Feast of the Epiphany (observed, transferred from 6 January)

 9 a.m. Spoken Mass

Parish Church of St. Mark the Evangelist, Medford Oregon  

Isaiah 60:1-6; Ephesians 3:1-12; Matthew 2:1-12; Psalm 72:1-7,10-14

The Rev. Anthony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.
God, take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Amen. 

 

Several years ago a teacher and I we were discussing the great Chinese epic, The Journey to the West. He remarked: “A big difference between Asian and Western cultures is that in your Western religions, you have to go abroad and spread the Gospel. In our Eastern religions, our greatest duty to go and seek the truth we do not yet have. Your Bible has the missionary, Saint Paul. We have the story of the Chinese monk Xuanzang going on his great Journey to the West to seek and bring back the Buddhist sutras. We are more humble than you.”

I tried to defend the West and Christianity. I cited humility as a virtue for Christians, and mission as rooted in love for others and a desire to share. I mentioned the Christian idea of Pilgrimage, and the Quest for the Holy Grail. But my teacher seemed unconvinced. 

 

“Are those things central? The Journey to the West is a parable about each of us. The pilgrims there represent every type of person. The monk is overly spiritual, naïve, and unable to defend himself against dangers. But he is calm. Zhu Bajie, the pig man, represents those of us too concerned with our bodily pleasures and comforts: totally controlled by his appetites, but able to enjoy unabashedly whatever good may come. Sandy, the handyman bodyguard, represents peasant practical wisdom and working-class street smarts: too focused on the task at hand, unaware of the greater goal, but essential in continuing the journey. Sun Wukong, the Monkey King, who fled millions of miles to escape the Buddha only to find he had always been in his palm, represents those of us too clever for our own good, whose will and audacity are both our strength and weakness. Too proud and willful, but able to tell a joke in a tight spot and nervy enough to face any new demon on the path.”

He continued, “I am on my Journey to the West. But are you? Do you want to go to strange places far from home, risking all, to gain the treasure of enlightenment?” 

 

Today’s Gospel is Matthew’s story of the strange Persian astrologers arriving in Jerusalem on their own Journey to the West. They seek to honor the child born “King of the Jews,” whose star they have seen rise while they were far off in the East. Matthew, that most Jewish of the four Gospels, uses them to represent the universal importance of God’s Messiah. He sees the inclusion of the gentiles as mysterious, fraught with danger. The Greek word Magoi (Latin: Magi) almost always carries a baggage of Mystery and the Occult; it is where our word “magic” comes from, and probably is best translated as "wizards." The magi’s appearance in Jerusalem tips off Herod of possible political competition, and the Massacre of the Innocents is the result.

However you read it, the story focuses on the Magi as religious pilgrims, strangers in a strange land not just bearing gifts, but seeking the greatest treasure of God.

A pilgrimage is not tourism with a spiritual slant. It is a quest to find God, to find forgiveness, healing, confidence, and oneness. We must leave where we are to set aside our normal lives, including habits of spiritual torpor and sloth. The place we seek is where the veil between us and the spirit world is thinner, a place that demands that we remove our shoes, a place where a bush will burn and yet not be consumed.

The trip is arduous, but worth it.  Psalm 84 says, “Happy are those … whose hearts are set on the pilgrims' way. Though they go through the desert valley they will find it full of springs.” A real pilgrimage is never easy. It will have desert valleys and rough spots. Having a heart set on the pilgrim’s way—remembering the yearning that moved you to set forth, and recalling the holy place you hope to go—means that the trip will be not only endurable, but at times sweet.

There are other ways to express this idea. A popular struggle song during the civil rights movement was “keep your eyes on the prize, hold on, hold on.”  Paul in today’s epistle says through such endurance fueled by grace, the hidden things of God become clear to us. 

Our journey in faith is often not a straight, direct path. Pilgrimage often appears to be a labyrinth, with turnings and twistings. That’s what the pillar of fire and cloud in the exodus story suggests. Wandering in the wilderness, we must not lose sight of the destination, must not become discouraged. Here, we should remember that there are two different kinds of nearness: what C.S. Lewis calls nearness of proximity and nearness of approach.

A hiker in the mountains comes out onto a ledge and sees, there beneath her, the small town where she wants to spend the night. It is only about 500 meters away—straight down. To get there, she must continue on the path, with its switchbacks and gradual descent. At moments, she must actually go farther and farther away from her goal—800 meters, 1400 meters as the crow flies—before the switchback turns. But all the time, she is actually getting closer to her evening resting spot.

The travel with its challenges and its twists and turns will itself change the pilgrims as they follow the path. As they near the goal, their perception of it will change because they have been changed. If this doesn’t happen, it means that something is wrong.

 

 

The Magi in today’s Gospel arrive at their intended destination—Jerusalem—only to find out that things are not as they imagined. The king whose star they follow is not on the throne or even a baby at court. They ask for directions from the local tyrant who is on the throne, citing the passages that brought them—probably Isaiah 60’s description of the great light to shine in Jerusalem, and Numbers 22’s description of the great star that would rise from Judah.

Herod asks his scholars where exactly these passages predict the birth will occur. They reply that the passages are silent on this. He demands, "Well, do you have a better text?" They answer with hesitation by citing Micah 5:2-4: “But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah . . . from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old . . . he shall shepherd Israel.” The Magi thus discover that they are nine miles off track. It is Bethlehem, village of shepherds and the poor, rather than Jerusalem, city of the rich and powerful, where they are actually headed. But despite the change in understanding and reorientation, not only in destination but of the nature of the king they are seeking, their hearts remain set on the pilgrim’s way. They keep their eyes on the prize, and continue on.

Joan Puls in her glorious little book Every Bush is Burning describes the encounter with the strange this way: “We live limited lives until we 'cross over' into the concrete world of another country, another culture, another tradition ... I have left forever a small world to live with the tensions and the tender mercies of God's larger family.”

My teacher’s question still echoes, “I am on my Journey to the West. But are you? Do you want to go on a journey into strange places far from home, risking all, to gain the treasure of truth?”

We are headed into a new calendar year, and a new phase of our life.  Next Sunday is our first Sunday with our new rector here.  I pray that all of us will be intrepid souls as we embark on our new journeys this year.   

 

As we prepare for our own Journey to the West, our pilgrimage, our following that star, I hope that we all can take time to think of what we need to do to re-energize our spiritual life: new or renewed disciplines of prayer, meditation—perhaps walking a labyrinth or even going on a real pilgrimage; perhaps more study, service, or more vigorous efforts at performing the corporeal acts of mercy—visiting the sick, feeding and clothing the poor, defending the oppressed. This is not so that we can earn something from God, but rather that we better learn how to accept God’s grace. May our hearts joyfully be set on the pilgrim’s way.

In the Name of God, Amen

 

The Holy Name

 

The Holy Name

3 January 2024

10:30 am said Mass at the Rogue Valley Manor

Numbers 6:22-27; Psalm 8; Philippians 2:5-11; Luke 2:15-21

The Rev. Fr. Antony Hutchinson, Ph.D., SCP

 

God, take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh. Amen.

 

January 1 is the Feast of the Holy Name of Our Lord Jesus Christ.  Once called the Feast of the Circumcision of Christ, it commemorates the events recounted in today’s Gospel, the circumcision and naming of the baby Jesus.  In recent years the Church has focused this feast on the naming rather than the bris performed by a moyel, which was perhaps a bit too graphic for modern tastes of primarily gentile congregations. 

 

The principal idea of the Feast of the Holy Name is that just as Jesus was marked as part of God’s chosen people by the imposition of Abraham’s sign of the covenant, and just as he was marked as God’s agent for saving us by being given the name the angel had prescribed for him earlier, so Christ marks us as his own and gives us his name when we are baptized.  That’s why the other readings talk about God placing his name on his people, and of us having to follow Christ’s example of acceptance and humility. 

 

The importance of naming, and recognizing the right names for people and things is a key idea behind the Feast so re-conceived.  Myths of power established through naming are found in many cultures. 

 

We place a great deal of stock in the process of naming.  Note the care that new parents usually take to ensure that they have chosen just the right name for the newborn.  Think of the difference between the two expressions “to name names,” and “to call names.”  We say “you are calling that person names” implies that what you are saying is not truly who or what that person is.  But if you are truly going to tell the truth and not varnish it one bit, you “name” names. 

 

Playwright Eve Ensler says that “[T]he power and mystery of naming things… has the capacity to transform …, rearrange our learned patterns of behavior and redirect our thinking.”

 

Chinese philosopher Confucius’s key doctrine is the Rectification of Names. “Calling things by their right names is the beginning of wisdom” runs a Chinese proverb based on the idea (cf. Analects 12.11).

 

I spent 25 years of my life working as a spin doctor for the U.S. federal government.  I know all too well the power of the words you choose to call things, both to establish truth or to hide it.  Our military talks about “going kinetic.”  That means starting to move troops and weapons to actually kill people.  Our political leaders often talk about “preserving our way of life,” but what they usually mean by this is holding on to our possessions, our privilege, and our control of others.  One previous U.S. administration decided to use the words “enhanced interrogation techniques” to describe what previously had always been called “torture” and thereby justified a horrible departure from our best national values.   

  

Given the centrality of Jesus to Christian faith and the importance of names, it is natural that Christians have always reflected on the names our Lord Jesus should have. 

John the Seer in Revelation 19:11-16, describes our Lord coming to set the world right:  

 

“Then I saw heaven opened, and there was a white horse! Its rider is named Faithful and True... his name is called The Word of God. … On his robe and on his thigh he has a name inscribed, "King of kings and Lord of lords.”

 

It is hard for most of us today to appreciate that Jesus of Nazareth did not stand out from his contemporaries simply because of his name “Jesus.”   Though common in Spanish, it is almost never used in English, so English speakers think the name refers to our Lord alone.  

But it was extremely common in Palestine at the turn of the era.  The Jewish historian Josephus mentions at least ten different people at the time who played historical roles that had the name.

 

The Greek word Iesous transliterates the Aramaic name Yeshua‘ (“Josh”) a shortened form of the Hebrew name Yehoshua‘ (Joshua).  Jews now prefer the Hebrew name “Joshua” for sons rather than the shortened Greek-form “Jesus” since the latter has become so deeply associated with Christianity. 

 

Both Matthew and Luke say that the name “Jesus” was given to the baby before his birth.  In Luke, the angel Gabriel during the annunciation tells the Blessed Virgin that she should name the baby Jesus (Luke 1:31), without giving any reason for the name.   Matthew, however, also gives a folk etymology for the name:  Gabriel says to Joseph, “[Mary] will give birth to a son, and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”  This play on words, shared also by Philo of Alexandria, is a little bit like claiming that a man was named Bill because his mother knew he would be working in Accounts Receivable, the billing department.

 

This explanation thinks that the name Jesus, Yeshua‘, is related to the verb “to save,” yasha‘.  But this folk etymology, however theologically satisfying it might be, is not correct.  Just as Bill is a shortened form of William, and has nothing to do with billing, Yeshua‘ is a shortened form of the Hebrew name Yeho-shua, or Joshua, and has nothing to do really with the verb “to save.” Yeho-shua combines the divine name of God, Yahweh, with the verb shawa‘, which means “help,” not “save.”   The original name Yeho-shua was the cry of a mother in labor—“Yahweh, HELP!” 

 

The one thing we learn for certain by Jesus being given that name is that he came from a pious and nationalistic Jewish family.  Joshua is the hero who followed Moses and brought the children of Israel into the Promised Land.  Other people in Jesus’ family have similar nationalist names. Mary, his Mother, brings to mind Miriam the sister of Moses.  Joseph, his legal father, brings to mind the patriarch Joseph who saved the Israelites by providing refuge in Egypt. Matthew 13:55 mentions four brothers of Jesus:  James, Joses, Simeon, and Jude.  All are names of great patriarchs from Israel’s past: James has the Aramaic or Hebrew name Jacob, the original name of the Patriarch later known as Israel.  Joses is the Greek form of the name Joseph.  Simon and Jude are Greek names for brothers of Joseph, Shimeon and Judah. 

 

The name of Jesus is thus a nationalistic call for help, understood as an assurance of salvation.  Jesus’ family gave it to him, under angelic instructions or not, in part because it evoked hope. 

 

We thus again return, as in most of our Christmastide readings, to the doctrine of incarnation:  God taking on human weakness and limitation, becoming fully human.  

 

“Yahweh, HELP!” we cry.  And we recount to each other the stories of God rescuing His people in the past through mighty acts of love beyond measure, mercy passing thought. 

 

“Yahweh, HELP!” we cry.  And we find hope for being saved. 

 

“Yahweh, HELP!” we cry.  And to us a baby of promise is born, a child ensuring peace is given. 

 

In our prayer life and quiet time this week, let us reflect and meditate on the Holy Name of Jesus.  And let us be honest and open in our naming of names, and calling out the demons in our lives who parade under false names or no name at all. 

 

In the holy name of Christ, Amen