The Gifts of the Magi
The Gifts of the Magi: 15 January 2021
January 5th was the 15th anniversary of my mother’s death. It’s a sad but not morbid day for me, and always makes the next day, Epiphany, even more poignantly hopeful. Epiphany, when the Magi following the Christmas star arrive at their destination—Jesus.
Last year our Associate Pastor introduced us to the Epiphany tradition of star words. It’s a word drawn at random, often printed on a cut-out paper star, to use a as a lens for reflection throughout the year. How is God’s Light shining through and guiding my life in this way? My word this year is happiness. That in itself proved the virtue of a random draw because happiness is not at all what I would have chosen for my 2021 lens.
And on Epiphany itself? Well, with most of the world I was watching a violent insurrectionist mob attack the heart of my country. It was hard to see the Light.
Many of the rioters, and many more of the peaceful protesters, wore clothes or carried signs emblazoned with Christian symbolism. Crosses were prevalent, as was anti-Semitism, white supremacy. A sweatshirt printed with Camp Auschwitz. A T-shirt proclaiming 6MWE. That’s shorthand for 6 Million Wasn’t Enough. A Confederate Flag flying in the Capitol of the United States for the first time since…never. That was the first, and may it be the last, time.
It wasn’t the Epiphany I’d desired.
Shock has worn off to dismay at realizing, again, that I am living in a totally different reality than millions of other people in America. We each believe our reality is correct. At best we consider people on the other ‘side’ to be gullible, naïve, lied-to, stubborn, illogical and exasperating. At worst the other side is the enemy: dangerous, unpatriotic, contemptible.
In my reality, government is imperfect but comprised of (for the most part) men and women of conscience who are serving the country out of a deep belief in the ideals we express as Americans. Far from what is commonly lamented, it is a good thing that we share the ideals but not always the method of achieving those ideals. Important, indispensable steps in Constitutional governance are to listen, to compromise, to achieve together what we could not alone.
In my 20s and 30s I was very involved with the local and state-level Sierra Club. The state leadership group met in Columbia at the Luther Lee building; a 1911 red brick factory renovated in 1982 by the eponymous attorney. To characterize Mr. Lee as a University of South Carolina fan would be a woeful understatement.
Our meeting place, the Gamecock Room, boasted high ceilings, large windows, and everything-Gamecock. Most Saturday mornings the glare was too bright, and we had to close the blinds, plunging us into murky, garnet-and-black gloom. There we would sit, hour upon hour, discussing educational programs and legislative strategies to work for clean air, safe water, land protection, and a vibrant natural world. “Meanwhile,” I would think in my lowest moments, “Meanwhile, hundreds or thousands of South Carolinians are out enjoying this beautiful sunshine and ruining our vibrant natural world with their ATVs and plastic water bottles, their company’s toxic dumping protocols, their willingness to disregard sound environmental policy for a quick buck. And here I sit in the gloom.”
Now here I am in the gloom of pandemic. I’m working with a wonderful, transformative nonprofit agency and settling my father’s estate; I’m caring for my husband who has had three surgeries in 12 months, volunteering on church committees and helping to start a PTA for the virtual school to support the valiant virtual teachers; I’m navigating social media with one pre-teen and one eager elementary student; I’m trying to throw some helpful and healing words out into the world with this monthly blog; I’m desperate for some self-care.
Meanwhile, Epiphany.
The sacred day of revelation. The beautiful commemoration of wise people from all nations bringing gifts to the baby who will become a nonviolent leader; a leader calling us to overthrow oppression without violence and a leader wielding the powers of compassion and love.
Meanwhile, I sat in the gloom of live-streamed hatred, watching violent rioters tearing down the very democracy I’m working so hard to build and to preserve for future generations. Watching angry people storming the Capitol in a misguided attempt to nullify an election whose results withstood more than 50 legal challenges.
For years these people, their leaders and the media who foment their venom have had the gall to call me unpatriotic, dangerous, not a true Christian. The gaslighting makes my head spin.
Later, inside the Capitol, five of South Carolina’s seven Representatives would vote to overthrow Arizona and Pennsylvania’s election results. That’s pretty rich coming from Representatives of the first state to secede from the Union because of perceived federal overreach.
According to the Wall Street Journal, “former House Speaker Paul Ryan (R., Wis.) said days before the vote that ‘it is difficult to conceive of a more anti-democratic and anti-conservative act than a federal intervention to overturn the results of state-certified elections and disenfranchise millions of Americans.’” Paul. Ryan.
Thing is, I understand how awful it is to believe in a candidate and be dismayed that more people voted for his/her opponent.
I live in South Carolina. Trust me: I have had my share of heartbreaking elections.
In 33 years of voting in every possible election, I would be surprised if my candidates won more than 15% of the time. And that’s including the moderate Republicans I’ve supported. This year’s race for Greenville County District 22-my district-had a Democrat on the ballot for the first time in 50 years. Fifty years!! I understand and sympathize with folks who feel disenfranchised. But I still support our Republic.
Meanwhile. I’ve been trying, I know this is stupid, but occasionally I still try, to put a moderating comment on a Facebook post.
Since last Wednesday I’ve seen a lot of people posting, “If you condone any part of this” or “If you are still defending President Trump” then go ahead and unfriend me now. I understand the pain and fury behind those posts, but I’ve resisted that because our echo chambers are part of what got America to this place. Instead, I’ve tried to weigh in gently a few times.
Under one friend’s post I asked why he posted it, wondered whether it was good to fan the flames, and I said, “This isn't intended to make you defensive or think that I'm angry--I'm honestly just asking. I think we all have a role to play in creating the civil society we say we want. And yes, I'm posting similar responses to friends on the ‘other’ side of you. Each of us is responsible for what we put in the world.”
I’m sure you can guess where this is headed.
The friend didn’t reply, but someone else did. She responded, “The truth hurts. And I'd be ashamed, if I were you, to blame (friend) for being demeaning about Biden and his supporters.”
Wait, so it’s a good thing to demean other people? And I should feel shame for potentially making someone feel bad about his demeaning comments? Even my very mild comment on a relatively mild post was met with scorn. And that word: Shame. It’s such a toxic incantation.
I sympathize with one friend who posted to her conservative/Republican/Trump supporter/Stop the Steal friends: “I've tried to understand you the past four years, really I have...but I don’t know how to do it any more. After yesterday...maybe it's your turn now.”
I fear they don’t want their turn. It’s another layer of the tragedy that we might have reached such a great divide that the other ‘side’ doesn’t want to consider another vision of America at all. Maybe you never did; maybe just the fact that it’s not yours is enough to make you want to tear it down.
Two of the most helpful, and I’ll admit surprising, responses to the siege were (1) this video of Arnold Schwarzenegger comparing last Wednesday to 1938’s Kristallnacht and sharing his history of growing up in post World War II Austria; and, (2) this essay by Joshua Lawson, the Managing Editor of The Federalist, a very right-leaning publication. He writes, “The Republican Party of the future cannot — not tacitly, not quietly, not in the slightest — encourage grievance or stoke anger. It must not aid, abet, or give any credence to wild conspiracy theories stemming from the likes of QAnon, Sidney Powell, and Lin Wood. The Republican Party of the future must once again become the party of the civil, the free, and the sane.” May it be so.
The Great Seal of the United States includes three Latin mottoes. On the obverse, which is the front, is the phrase E pluribus unum—Out of many, one. On the reverse there reads both Annuit cœptis-- Providence has approved of (our) undertakings; and, Novus ordo seclorum—A new order of the ages.
Had the insurrectionists prevailed, we would, indeed, have had a new order—a disorder based on mob rule, violence and conspiracy theories. More to Jupiter’s liking, perhaps. Annuit coeptis comes from Virgil’s Aeneid. According to Wikipedia, “It is a prayer by Ascanius, the son of the hero of the story, Aeneas, which translates to, Jupiter Almighty, favour [my] bold undertakings,” which he prays right before he kills an enemy. Maybe it’s what this man was praying as he dangled next to the inscription in the Senate Chamber last Wednesday. I don’t think he was reflecting on his star word.
The founding fathers believed that America was a highly favored nation, God’s shining city on a hill, a beacon to all nations. How close we came to extinguishing that light.
Meanwhile, the Light we should celebrate on January 6th is the revelation of Jesus as God Incarnate. Or, as written in the Gospel of John, “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”
After watching the insurrectionists (rioters is too generous a moniker) throughout the afternoon and snapping at my children because I was so keyed up, and then apologizing to everyone, I took a deep breath and herded us all outside into winter’s early twilight. I wanted us to chalk our door.
This new-to-me Epiphany tradition has Christians chalk their doors with a series of numbers and letters: 20 † C † M † B † 21. The numbers refer to the calendar year (20 and 21 for 2021). C, M and B are the initials for the traditional names of the Magi (Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar), but they are also an abbreviation of the Latin blessing Christus mansionem benedicat, which means, “May Christ bless this house.” We took turns with the chalk and read a short responsive liturgy.
We went inside, fixed supper, and watched The Mandalorian, which seemed a lot less science-fictiony than what was happening in Washington.
Thursday, I woke up raw, drained, despairing. I tried to focus on happiness. And it really came down to this: do I believe what Jesus lost his life to teach me, or do I not? Will I stay true to my commitment to follow this non-violent, God-trusting, human-being, ever-merciful, unconditionally-loving, all-powerful rabbi? Or will I not?
As terrifying as it sometimes seems, as reluctant as I sometimes am to claim it, I know that my true happiness arises from being what God calls me to be. What is my Magi gift to give?
I’ve always wondered what Mary and Joseph did with the Magi’s gold, frankincense and myrrh. Did they use it to buy their safe passage to Egypt? Give it to the temple? Invest in in a 529 plan for Jesus? We’ll never know. But I do know that Jesus gave the Magi gifts that day, too. Alongside the revelation of Incarnation, Jesus bestowed some Hope. And Wonder. And Joy. He gave the Sages a bright light to follow every day, every year, even when the heavens and the earth are dark. If they would but follow.
It is what we choose to do with our epiphanies that determines the blessing of the gift. Be the blessing.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Imagine the conversations those three Magi had in the two years it took them to find Jesus. I’m sure there were low, despairing moments. Moments when they contemplated turning back. Wondering what their quest would reveal and whether it was worth the effort. Sometimes all we have to offer is ourselves. Offer yourself. You are enough.
Be wise. Be open to epiphanies. Give generously. Receive open-heartedly. Support one another. Avoid despotic rulers and disregard their conspiracy theories. If need be, go home by another way; but be a blessing. Bless each house you enter, whether your own home, or the house of the Lord, or the house of the People.
The rest of us are counting on you.
