Christ the King-Epiphany, Wilbraham

The Rev. Martha S. Sipe

January 5, 2025/ Epiphany Sunday

Matthew 2:1-12

I’d like to tell you a story this morning.  It’s about something that happened a couple of days before Christmas last year.  But before I get to the story, I need to share a little background information with you.

Before we moved here to the Pioneer Valley, we lived for 25 years in the Lehigh Valley of Eastern Pennsylvania.  One of the claims to fame of the Lehigh Valley is that the city (then town) of Bethlehem was founded by the Moravians in 1741.  The Moravians were the first Protestants, predating even Lutherans by about 100 years, and Bethlehem was the Moravians’ first successful settlement in North America.  Because of the region’s history, at Christmas time Moravian stars are displayed all over the Lehigh Valley – and in fact all over eastern Pennsylvania, hanging in windows, from people’s front porches, and inside and outside churches. 

In case you’re not familiar with a Moravian star, its official shape is that of an augmented rhombicuboctahedron.  Don’t ask me to say it again – or to define it!  There are many variations of the shape, but the original Moravian stars had 26 points radiating from 18 square and 8 triangular bases.  They originated in Moravian boarding schools in Germany in the nineteenth century as an exercise in geometry, but they were carried on missionary journeys around the world and soon became the most recognizable symbol of the Moravian Church.

Tricia and I have had a few Moravian stars in our home – one made of glass, one that was a Christmas tree topper, and one of the lighted variety that we hung from our front porch.  If you were here in Christmas of 2022, you may remember it because we hung it in the place where the Advent wreath had been.  But last year, we decided to hang the star outside our house.  Here in Springfield, however, we don’t have a front porch.  So we hung it from the tree at the bottom of our driveway out toward the street.  And this is where the story begins.

One evening, a few days before Christmas, we noticed a van parked in the street in front of our house.  We live at a dead end and no one ever parks on our street, although I’ve been told by a couple of people who have lived in Springfield for a long time that our dead end used to be a place where couples went parking.  We’ve not seen that in our time.  But I’m sorry to say that we have seen people stop at our dead end to dump trash.  I’m even sorrier to say that we’ve seen more than one person pull over at our dead end to urinate into the weeds.  And on two occasions, we’ve gotten up in the morning to find a car in the woods that had apparently blown through the dead end overnight.  So we tend to pay attention when cars stop at the end of our street.

So on this evening last December, we were watching.  After, I don’t know, maybe 20 minutes or so, we saw someone climbing around in the back of the van . . . stringing up Christmas lights.  We began to wonder if they were settling down for the night, and my curiosity was turning into anxiety.  I was very uncomfortable with the idea of strangers camped out in front of our house.  I’m sorry to admit that one of my first instincts was to call the police – a response that Tricia wisely talked me out of.  We were not being threatened.  They were not trespassing.  Leave it alone.  So we watched a little longer.

After a while longer, when it became clear that the occupants of the van were not going anywhere any time soon, we decided that we ought to at least check to make sure the people were okay.  So, cell phones at the ready in case we had to make an emergency call, we came out our front door, walked down the driveway, and slowly approached the van.  As we got close, the back door slid open, and we saw a young couple, the woman holding a baby.  The man asked softly, “We’re not bothering you, are we?”  “No, no,” we spluttered.  “We just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”  He smiled, and said, “We’re okay . . .” at which point, we just smiled and nodded, and retreated to the house.

When we got back inside, I again raised the idea of calling the police.  “Maybe they need help,” I suggested.  “Maybe the police could find them a shelter.”  “Or maybe,” said Tricia, “we just leave them in peace.  They don’t seem to be in any distress.”  Reluctantly, I agreed, knowing that the police might make them move on when perhaps all they wanted was some peace and quiet.  We looked out the window one more time before we went to bed.  Everything was quiet.  The interior lights were off in the van, leaving only the Christmas lights burning.  So we went to bed, each of us saying a prayer for the young family.

The next morning, the van was gone, disappearing as quietly and mysteriously as it had appeared.  We never did know what the story was.  Maybe they were homeless.  Maybe they were travelling a long distance to see family for the holidays, and couldn’t afford a hotel.  Maybe they didn’t even stay all night – maybe they just needed a rest, or maybe they were neighbors with a fussy baby and were riding around in the van trying to get him or her to sleep.  We’ll never know.  But what I know is this:  the memory of that vulnerable young family, parked on our street, resting under the light of our Moravian star . . . is a gift, an experience I’ll never forget.

And there’s more.  When I went out the door the next morning, I found a small cardboard sleeve of incense left propped against our front steps.  On it, was written, “Thanks for your kindness.”

So let me just paint the picture again.  Last year, just before Christmas, a vulnerable family, apparently with no place to stay, spent the night under the Christmas star, and left a gift of incense . . . at our house.  It still raises the hairs on my arms when I tell this story, and I have no idea whether these were random events or a message from God.  But I believe that God can use even random events to send us messages.  And here are two messages that I have discerned.

First, in the story of the Epiphany, the star marked the place where Jesus was – and where Jesus is, is a safe place.  I don’t know what made that family pull off the road at 487 S. Branch Parkway.  It could have just been that it was dark and off-the-beaten-path.  But I’d like to think that the presence of the star signaled to them, on some level, that it was a safe place.  I’d like to think that the star marked our home as a Christian home, a place where Jesus dwells.  You and I don’t walk around with stars hanging over our heads.  But we can and should live our lives in such a way that people know that Jesus dwells within us – and that we are safe people, people who can be trusted to offer mercy and compassion in the name of the light of the world.

The second message that I took away from these holy events – and whether or not they were coincidence, I’ll still call them holy, because holy means “set apart for a special purpose,” and I do believe that God used these events for the purpose of teaching me – the second message that I took away from these holy events is a reminder that we often find Jesus in the places we least expect him to be.  I expected trouble from a mysterious car at our dead end.  I expected a drunk driver or substance abuse or even just kids bent on getting into trouble.  I did not expect to find a mirror image of the holy family.  I did not expect to wrestle with my own inclinations to call the police first and ask questions later, even though doing so could clearly have made things difficult, if not dangerous, for this family.  I did not expect to receive a gift from vulnerable strangers. But sometimes that’s how God works.  Jesus does have a habit of showing up in the places we least expect him.  And when we encounter him in those unexpected places, in those unexpected people, in those unexpected events, we are changed.

In this new year, may we all shine with Jesus’ love and light so that, just as our welcome statement on the front of our bulletin states, people of all sexual orientations, gender identities, gender expressions, races, cultures, ages, physical abilities, mental abilities, marital status, family configuration, faith history, economic status, education, and immigration status will know that we are safe people and this is a safe place.  And when we encounter Jesus in unexpected circumstances, may our hearts be changed so that our love becomes more and more like his.