How to be a star
Thumbnail Image by Mariya Muschard from Pixabay
Clare L. Hickman
St. Luke’s Episcopal Church
Jan 4, 2026--Second Sunday after Christmas
Jeremiah 31:7-14; Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a; Matthew 2:1-12
It’s hardly surprising, that they went to Jerusalem. Having seen a star in the sky, guided by their own wisdom tradition to follow that star, they came to see a king. Not knowing precisely what they sought. But sensing something miraculous, feeling a great power stirring in the world, they have been drawn from afar.
Arriving in Jerusalem, they begin to ask around. Perhaps they even go to the palace itself, we are not told. Either way, Herod hears of it, and summons them. And this is when their sense of this story they’ve walked themselves into begins to shift.
This man, clearly, is not the king whose star they have seen rising. And probably not one of his children either. This is the kind of man who would kill his own son, if he thought they might supplant him. This man is corruption and fear and greed, the kind of powerful man who believes that anything can be justified, if it’s done to protect his own power, or enrich him further.
So, Herod is part of the story they seek, yes. His reign, his way of being in the world, is the setting of the story, in many ways the reason for the story. But he is not the center of the story.
One can only imagine how relieved the wise men were when the scribes were consulted and they shared that the messiah, the ruler and shepherd of Israel, was prophesied to be born in Bethlehem. And let’s take a moment here to note the bravery of those scribes, choosing to honor scripture, daring to tell a very unwelcome truth, to a dangerous, insecure man like Herod. After all, it would have been easy to say, “It’s you, King Herod! You’re the best, wisest and most excellent king we’ve ever had! You’re the savior of the nation and no-one could ever replace you!!”
But they didn’t. They risked their lives to lay claim to scripture, and sent the magi on their way to Bethlehem.
They were looking for a child, so that part wasn’t surprising. Still, it is an odd thing, surely, to pay respect and honor to a baby. Even more so if the surroundings aren’t adding any pomp and circumstance to the scene. This story into which these wise men have been drawn just gets stranger and stranger, as the contrast between those with worldly power and the poverty of this Messiah gets starker. This, it seems, will be a story of the unavoidable conflict between those who wish to exploit and control, and the forces of liberation.
That reality is brought home forcefully, when the wise men are warned in a dream not to return to Herod to tell him about the baby, but to go home by another way. The powers-that-be are already rising up against those standing on the side of the poor and the powerless. Rising up with crushing might, sending the military to slaughter anyone who might one day threaten the king’s rule, just as that long-ago Pharaoh in Exodus ordered all of the Hebrew children killed at birth.
These are horrifying stories, whose tragedy we cannot ignore, even though both Moses and Jesus are able to evade the violence. The horror remains. Because that’s the world into which God’s salvation comes. God cannot, it is clear, wave a Divine hand and return us to an innocent perfection in which no one suffers or dies. But neither does God leave us completely at the mercy of the suffering and death of this world. God slips through the cracks, comes around the side, sneaks in where nowhere would expect: as a baby born in poverty, in the middle of nowhere.
God as Baby is such an interesting thing. Most of the images we have for God point us toward how God relates to us. God is Ruler, God is Judge, God is Parent. But a baby? Babies are ALL about how we relate to them, about what they evoke in us. Which is love. Which is the instinct to care for them, to attend to their needs (to figure out, please God, what they need!), to protect them, and give them what they need to flourish and grow. God as Baby invites those instincts in us, and names them sacred, holy and faithful. Suggests that relating to the world in that way is a core part of a God-filled life.
Of course, Jesus entered the world not just as a child, but as a child in danger. He and his family immediately become refugees, fleeing from armed thugs backed by the power of the state. Never forget that this story, into which the Magi were drawn, is one about the power and values of God, set against the violent control of a corrupt ruling class.
A baby, evoking our tenderness, our desire to nurture and protect. A child in danger, calling us to action against those who use their power to exploit and oppress and destroy.
The magi have their role in the story, coming from afar, bearing gifts. As a sign that this child was for the salvation of all people, not just Israel. And to demonstrate that his power would combine those of kingship (the gold), priesthood (the frankincense), and the willingness to die (myrrh).
As for you? You are the star. Your place in the story (as Sam Wells likes to describe it)[i] is to hover over the stable, calling the world’s attention to the place in which Jesus is born. To the place in which God breaks through.
Imagine that. Take on the wonder of that: a life spent hovering over that manger in Bethlehem. And imagine what that might look like, what you might do or say that would draw people to come and see Jesus, that would enable them to recognize Jesus, that would teach them a little bit more about how and where God shows up in this world.
You are hovering over the stable, when you find some way to stand up against the Herods of this world, when you call out greed and corruption in political or religious leadership. You’re hovering over the stable, when you use whatever power you have to speak for those who have less power in this world. Hovering, when you face those who oppose and attack you and seek their redemption rather than their destruction. Hovering, and shining bright, when you bind someone’s wounds, or tend to their spirit. and yes, if you feel so moved, to speak about the love of Christ, the peace of Christ, the power of Christ that strengthens you when you allow it to dwell within you.
All of this, and more, drawing people nearer to the light of Christ that shines within you. Because you’re not the baby. And you are most definitely not the messiah. But you are a star.
Wishing you a blessed Epiphany, my friends. Amen.
[i] “Sermon Preparation Workshop” 12/23/2025 on the St. Martin in the Fields Facebook page, https://www.facebook.com/share/v/1Cp88TBpiT/