Gospel: Matthew 2:13-15, 19-23
In the annual liturgical calendar there are seven principal Feast Days we observe: Easter Sunday; the Ascension; Pentecost; Trinity Sunday; All Saints’ Day; Christmas Day; and the one coming up on Tuesday, the Epiphany. The dates of the first four vary from one year to the next, while the last three are on fixed dates: November 1; December 25; and January 6.
Near the front of the Book of Common Prayer you can read the guidance given for transferring – or moving – certain feasts that fall on weekdays by observing them on Sunday. The Epiphany is one such instance when an observance can be held on the closest Sunday (which would be today), and many churches take advantage of this option. To help in the scheduling flexibility, the list of readings for this Sunday includes three options for the Gospel reading, two from Matthew and one from Luke.
While many churches observe the Epiphany today, I chose not to, and for a very simple reason: by skipping ahead, even by a single day, we miss crucial parts of the story of Jesus. It’s like reading a novel; you may want to move from page 100 to page 300 so you know how the story ends, but by doing that you miss so much that happens in the intervening pages. Now admittedly it’s a bit more convoluted when you look closely at the order for the readings for today and Tuesday. The reading from Matthew that we just heard, for example, occurs after the reading assigned for the actual feast day. If we skip this morning’s reading, however, I feel we deprive ourselves of an important scene that doesn’t come up again.
And as we heard in the Gospel passage two weeks ago, today’s is once again centered on dreams.
Now rest assured that the Magi will arrive; we have the luxury of looking back and knowing we can safely anticipate that event. Today though I want to reflect for a few more minutes on that important theme in today’s reading from Matthew: God speaks to us in our dreams.
If you were here the Sunday before Christmas, you heard me talk about what are referred to as “clergy dreams” and which I’ve experienced many times. I shared some of the “red stole” ordination dreams I’ve had, but there are more – many more. Dreams in which I step into the pulpit to preach and discover what’s on the paper in front of me isn’t what I’d written. Dreams in which I go to the altar to celebrate the Eucharist and find I can’t read or understand the altar book. Dreams where I go to offer the Collect for the Day during the service and discover I didn’t have it in front of me, and so in a panic I had to wing it and make one up. Dreams when nothing on the altar is where it’s supposed to be for the Eucharist and as I reset everything people get up and walk out.
Many of the clergy dreams I have now come when the church calendar is full or there are major events coming. They all seem bizarre in their own way, and I’m sure they reflect anxiety about what’s ahead or the desire to do everything I can to help things along. But even during the craziness of these clergy dreams, there were things to look out for and reflect on. There were occasional words or scenes that I realized early on called for me to pause and ponder. There were moments I firmly believe in which God was calling on me to simply listen.
Reflection, pondering, and listening I think are found in the dreams of Joseph as well. If you remember the end of chapter one where we read of Joseph learning about Mary’s pregnancy, he – in an attempt to preserve her reputation in light of something that in that day would have caused scandal and humiliation – planned to “dismiss her quietly.”[1] Amid the stress and pressure he was feeling to make the matter go away quietly, however – in the depths of the uncertainty and perhaps even despair he had to be feeling – a messenger visited Joseph in a dream and essentially said, “Joseph, don’t panic. It’s okay to take Mary as your wife, because the son to whom she will give birth will do great things … greater than you can possibly imagine.” Without questioning any of it, Joseph did as he had been asked.
Now, in advance of another stressful event looming unseen on the path ahead of him, Joseph receives a second divine visitation as he sleeps. “Joseph, your family is in danger. Herod is out for blood. Get up and go to Egypt, where you will be safe.” This time, there’s no greeting of peace, no calming words of “fear not” that are offered. Instead, it’s an imperative: Get up and go! Again, Joseph does as he’s asked; he gets up and flees with his wife and infant son to Egypt. After a time in exile, still a third heavenly visit: another messenger appearing on the dreamscape of Joseph’s unconscious mind; another imperative: Get up and go! For a third time, without questioning any of what he’s heard, Joseph does it, taking his young family back to what’s once again the safety of their home.
In the scriptures, dreams herald change or upcoming action. We’ve just looked at the dreams of Joseph in Matthew’s Gospel. The dreams of Jacob in Genesis were prelude to his return home. The Joseph of the Old Testament had dreams that were the sign that he would be the greatest among his brothers, and his skill at interpreting dreams guaranteed his success in Egypt. Daniel dreamed of the defeat of earthly empires by heavenly power. Pilate’s wife had a nightmare that prompted her to warn her husband about the judgment he would soon hand down to Jesus.
Life for all these individuals started moving in one direction, and then they dreamed – and things were never again the same. We’re here at the start of the new year, the 202nd in the history of this parish. Things that were one way in 1824 had changed by 1924, and life here was different in 2000 than in 1900. Changes came because people hoped; they wished; they dreamed. The women and men who came before us were inspired to do more, either while awake or perhaps in their dreamscape as they slept. There’s no denying that change can be difficult and frightening; I don’t doubt that our predecessors, as they dreamed about the future of this parish, experienced some fear or uncertainty. But as they learned and as we continue to witness, change can also be rewarding and fruitful.
What are your dreams for our future, and for yours? In this new year, what is God saying to you, in your waking and in your sleeping? Where do you dream that we go, and where you go? These are important questions to answer and vital conversations to have. Listening to the voices of those who may visit us in our dreams is important. Looking at where we are now and wondering what we can do to build up, grow, and shape the future of St. Stephen’s – and our futures – is important.
So for the second time in three weeks I once again ask this: pay attention to your dreams. Listen to your dreams. Respond to your dreams. Let your dreams be heralds of the change that lies ahead in our journey, and yours.
Amen.
[1] Matthew 1:19 (NRSV).