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January 3, 2010 
Ephesians 3:1-12, Matthew 2:1-12

In a week of looking back at the stories and events of 2009, I am going to ask you to wander back even further with me, into our ancestral past. Back to a time when a promise was shared with us in an unexpected place.

Back to a time when wandering stars communicated to the magi in Persia that a great event was about to occur.

Back to a time when a young, expectant mother and her husband-to-be wandered the dusty miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem on orders of Emperor Augustus. 

Back to a time, when - in the midst of all this drifting - I too wandered into your presence. For those of you who are visiting today, this morning I am completing a pastoral internship as part of my participation in the Authorized Lay Pastor program. From here I will begin to travel elsewhere.

As is the very fabric of this congregation, you have once again reached out beyond your walls to welcome a stranger. Over the course of the past year I have been warmly embraced in your smiles and stories, and my faith has been nourished in your presence.

It seems fitting this morning that, as I take steps to continue my pastoral studies and you prepare to welcome Pastor Leah into her ministry at Memorial, that we should find ourselves traveling together with the magi.

There was a lot of talk about walking within the life of the church in 2009:

Last spring, when I first came to Memorial, footsteps were placed along the walls of the sanctuary as we took steps together through the season of Lent.

Then, Mary Ircink, the parish nurse, has been leading us in a “walk to Bethlehem” as part of a health and wellness series geared to keep an active focus on God’s call to care for ourselves.

And over the past few weeks as we wandered through the season of Advent, we heard many stories of journeying through difficult places as we walked with the scripture readings to Bethlehem, and reflected on the trip to Israel/Palestine that a group from Memorial had made in the fall.

In today’s gospel reading, we wander with the magi into Judah, as they sought the new revelation that was illuminated by a star. As we continue walking with the magi, we might just find that we begin to recognize God’s promise in the dark eyes of a newborn child.

Come with me, and look back to the time when the writer of the reading in Ephesians painted a picture of this promise for us. With unwavering certainty the writer announces that through the life of Jesus we now have…“access to God.”

Access to God?

Really?

Look around. Is that what we are experiencing in the community around us? Access to God?

This is it?

Yet that is what we heard read in our presence today. As the liturgist spoke the written words it all sounded so clear – There is no longer any doubt - We have all the information we need.

God’s eternal mystery has been fully given to us. Through the lives of the prophets and apostles, in the faith of the magi, in the birth of Jesus, we now have full access to God.

So why do I still have questions?

Listen to the headlines of 2009 – news of war and terrorist attacks, of approaching environmental doom, of bickering between government leaders on healthcare reform – or as it is now called insurance reform – Here we have access to God?

What about the all of the budget cuts, jobs lost, homes in foreclosure; the diagnoses of cancer, Alzheimer’s, diabetes, depression? Is the writer of Ephesians positive that we now have access to God?

This is a time of the year when many of us have been traveling. We have purchased gifts, packed the car, boarded planes, put up the Christmas decorations, and filled the house with the scent of baked goods.

For others, traveling is not so easy. For example, for those of us who do not have a car, getting to the home of friends and family can be an expensive and exhausting trial. Relying on others for transportation frequently brings disappointment or frustration when the plans change.

And when there is an unexpected death in the family, that trial becomes even more challenging.

Such was the situation for a woman from the community who contacted the church. She had gotten a telephone call in the middle of the night. Her mother, who lived in Chicago, had suddenly died. The woman, a single mother with three children, urgently needed to purchase four bus tickets to go to Chicago to make funeral arrangements. The tickets alone were going to cost her over two hundred dollars.

Struggling on the edge to meet her family’s basic needs - paying for rent and heat, buying food for the children - she did not have extra cash to buy the bus tickets. Soon there would be the questions surrounding the funeral itself. The woman had not been close to her mother, and did not know whether or not her mother had a church she attended in Chicago where the funeral could be held. What would be the cost of the funeral and burial?

How would she figure this out with three kids in tow?

However, in the present moment her only concern was how to get the bus tickets. As the woman was connected to churches in the community, Memorial and another congregation were able to combine resources and provide the fare for the bus.

To complicate their trip, the next challenge would be to get to the new Greyhound bus station on the southeast side of Madison. The station used to be downtown, readily accessible. With the bus station now on the east side, she and the children would need to make four transfers. This initial bus trip would take approximately an hour and a half, followed by another three and a half hours on the bus to Chicago.

But they were on their way. 

There are other such stories each month in our community. The congregation’s focus on reaching out is a wonderful gift. Your generosity and time expands beyond the doors of this church, reaching out to our neighbors just down the street. We invite them in.

A few months ago, as family and friends gathered at the church for a memorial service, a stranger suddenly appeared in our midst. Silently standing at the front of the sanctuary as everyone else was leaving, he seemed to appear from nowhere.

The man sat down in the front row to tell his story. There was an awkward pause as he began. His English was better than my Spanish. Yet the languages spoken didn’t matter. This was a moment when the universal human condition was understood. 

Due to the down turn in the economy, the gentleman had not been able to find gainful employment. His wife worked, but her checks did not cover the cost of rent. Over the past six months, they had fallen behind. They were at risk for eviction.

With a family of four small children, the landlord was willing to work with them, but they needed to make a “good faith” payment. The husband and wife had most of the money, but they needed an additional $150 to avoid losing their home. 

Opening the door of the church beyond these walls, we were able to work with the landlord, a local bank and another congregation to financially assist the family. Here was another moment of God’s promise being shared with us in an unexpected place.

Walking beyond the walls of the church, the moments of the present intertwine with the events of the past. That time when new parents, Mary and Joseph, traveled along the edge of society. Through dreams and angels, they began to recognize the potential for new hope in the birth of their child.

God given in God’s child. A child embraced in his mother’s arms, nourished by her presence. A child of wonder in the eyes of his father.

In God’s unexpected revelation, we walk beyond these walls. We become magi. Well, maybe we don’t always feel that wise. But as Christians, in love and hope we continue to respond to the Star Child among us. That hope of God’s presence arising in our day to day lives.

Like the magi, following today’s service, we will each return to our homes today by another road.

So on this day, I leave you with a gift. For some of you, this message of wandering will resonate deeply. For those of you who are wandering, I leave you with this bench. A place to pause along your faith journey. I pray that you will find rest and be refreshed by the Light of God.

God has not created all of us to be wanderers. For you who are not wanderers, I leave you with the bench as a remembrance of this time and this place, and the ministry that you have born and grown with tender care. Know in your hearts that this has been a wonderful place for me to pause along my pastoral journey.

I leave you this day with peace - Peace be with you.

And also with you.

And together we say,

Amen.