It never rains in Seattle in July. Never. Except for that one summer when it just wouldn’t stop raining and everything was flooded. The Vacation Bible Camp we had planned with Godly Play Bible Stories outside was moved into the chapel. I watched as our storyteller Patsy told the story of Noah and the Ark. Afterwards, the children drew pictures. Some drew rainbows. Some drew animals and arks. 7-year-old Kyle was having a tough time that day. I drew near to him as he drew picture after picture of floods with people drowning.
Would if it never stops raining now? Kyle asked in loud panicked voice. Would if Mommy and Daddy drown? He asked. Patsy was so wise-- she came near and crouched down next to the small boy and looked him in the eye, smiling. The rainbow is our promise from God, Kyle. Do you know what a promise is? She asked.
Later, I saw Patsy and Kyle making a pinky swear. For those that might not know what that is or those that might need refreshing, a pinky swear is a solemn act. Clasping some else’s pinky we make childhood promises that we hold fast to.
Einstein once said, “If you want your children to be intelligent, read them fairy tales. If you want them to be more intelligent, read them MORE fairy tales.” What was this brilliant scientist trying to say? Einstein was pointing to the human reality that our souls are built for stories. Through stories, we struggle and come to new understandings, a new reality. Through stories we grapple with darkness and evil and come again to light that prevails. Scripture is given to us as sacred story. Through it, we build our souls on the foundation of our ancestor’s stories.
Ancient dark stories that share a deeper truth and reality. We know this story of Epiphany all too well beloved. I am convinced Einstein saw the darkness of fairy tales as a way of teaching children how to find light in the midst of darkness. Scripture stories when taken seriously do that very well—as these are the original tales of darkness and struggle and light prevailing.
The medieval Christians had a fun tradition of raucous Mystery Plays at Epiphany. Dressing up as Magi, the congregation would cheer and clap for the baby Jesus and then boo and hiss for King Herod.
Clapping in church… not something we do very often in our tradition. Booing in church?! We’ve never done that before. I remember first time I saw a friend experiment with this tradition of Mystery Plays and invite the congregation to Boo for King Herod. I pondered that for a long time. What do I think of that? Booing is a bit obnoxious!
And but beloved how we need to boo. We need to hiss at a king who is power hungry and lives out of a place of dominance and terror. We need to boo those that would slaughter children for their own survival at the top of the pyramid. As much as we’d like to say that Kings like Herod no longer exist, the reality of our world is that Herod lives.
For darkness still covers the earth but light and radiance come. And this light changes everything. This light this star is a birth, but it is also death. Death to the darkness that dwells in the corners of our life, death to the intoxicating ways that we humans use power for our own gratification and pathological need to win. This birth and these Magi are telling us a story of light and darkness, of taking new roads and journeys that overcome the dark and shed light in the world.
I love T.S. Elliot’s Poem, the Journey of the Magi. I love how Elliot places himself into the perspective of a Magi.
The lines that live in my heart are these:
“This birth was hard and bitter agony for us, like death, our death.
We returned to our places these kingdoms but no longer at ease here
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.”
I wonder: what needs to die in our lives so that light, Christ, love can live? That seems like a Lenten question but maybe it’s an Epiphany question too.
The Magi take a new road home because something new is born in them and the old ways, old addictions, the idols they hold, the false gods can no longer live in them now that light is born.
I wonder what would happen if we played with scripture more this Epiphany season. How would God manifest themself* in us?
I wonder who each of us is this year in the Epiphany story?
Every year, at Epiphany I play a little game at the Manger. I close my eyes and ask God who am I called to be in the nativity this year? I have to confess my first year at Ascension when I played my manger game, I pulled the donkey.
Who are we this year? How will we play with this story?
Are we the Magi searching and discerning the difference between real power and false prophets? Are we the child centered on hope and love receiving gifts that speak deeply of our life and reality? Are we the stubborn camel forced on a journey we don’t wish to take? Are we King Herod intoxicated with our power and drunk on fear, choosing to blame others to discharge our own pain that light has come and life is changing for us?
I wonder who we are?
The reality beloved is that scripture points to the deep truth within us. We build our very souls on the stories of scripture. We are invited to play with these stories we get in the season of Epiphany, to ask what will be revealed to us? Where will light shine in my darkness? What will be made manifest in me and the world? To wonder and ponder deeply. We are built for story.
Kyle settled down later on that day at Bible camp as we played a rousing game of sardines and did arts and crafts. The pinky promise that Patsy made him was God’s covenant the rainbow still shines in the dark cloudy skies. That afternoon for the first time in what felt like weeks, the sun peaked out and yup, there was a rainbow. Kyle noticed it first and he squealed with delight as God’s pinky promise was revealed.
Beloved if you want your children to be intelligent teach them to play with scripture. If you want to them to even MORE intelligent teach them to play with even more scripture.
Amen.