Sunday, January 8 - Star Gifts

This sermon was preached for the Feast of the Epiphany, January 8, 2023 at St. Mark's Episcopal Church in East Longmeadow, MA. The texts for this sermon were: Isaiah 60:1-6, Ephesians 3:1-12, Matthew 2:1-12, and Psalm 72:1-7,10-14. 

Today we are going to create the sermon together. 

May the words of all our mouths and pencils, and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing in your sight, Oh Lord, are rock and our redeemer. Amen. 

As my husband was unwrapping my Christmas present to him this year, he arched a skeptical eyebrow and asked, “Is this a task gift?” I laughed a little guiltily.  

See, in an attempt to appeal to my spouse’s practical and efficient nature, some of my gifts to him have a tendency to be…let’s say aspirational. You know, the kind of gifts that are intended to help someone along the way of where they’ve been hoping to go. They often come with an implicit associated chore or task, hence my husband’s nickname of them. Like an organizer, for instance. But a nice personalized, hand-carved one! 

There’s two ways a “task gift” can land. It can make you feel seen and supported on whatever journey you are on. But…it can also feel like maybe you’re not enough just yet, the way you are right now. If you received or given a task gift recently I hope that it landed that first way - as thoughtful and loving. 

We talk a lot about gifts in church. Gifts are a central piece of our liturgy. As we prepare the table, we collect offerings from those gathered and together with gifts of homemade bread and handmade wine we process them up the altar. A bit of a shorter journey than the wisemen took but a procession returning what is precious to the divine all the same. All things come of thee, Oh Lord, and of thine own have we given thee. 

We talk a lot about gifts because they are one of the most ancient and most human ways we express love and connect with one another and with God. The free and grateful giving and receiving of gifts is a primary act of faith and worship. 

There’s another way we talk about gifts in Christianity. Paul writes about spiritual gifts bestowed by the Holy Spirit, charismata: gifts like teaching, and preaching. In every Anglican confirmation the Bishop invokes the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Spirit from Isaiah: wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and awe of the divine. These gifts are given by God to individuals for a purpose. When we learn to see our own spiritual gifts, we can learn to use them for God’s will. They become gifts we ourselves give to bring love and reconciliation to the world. 

In my childhood church, my pastor chose three adjectives and one unique spiritual gift she saw in eighth grader she confirmed. As a thirteen year old, being seen - and really feeling seen - in that way meant a heck of a lot. But I remember, too, worrying that I wasn’t so good as all that. That I didn’t actually fully have the gift she named for me. That reaction to the naming of a spiritual gift is deeply familiar and I’ve recognized it again and again in the people I’ve pastored. It’s a peculiar mix of feeling loved and special and inspired, and secretly worrying that you don’t live up to the hype. 

Coaching people to recognize their spiritual gifts is a central part of spiritual accompaniment, whether by a pastor or spiritual director or just a good friend. It can also be a tricky balance. On the one hand, it’s about helping someone to discover the full potential of everything God is calling forth inside them. A gift is that growing and becoming. On the other hand, sometimes what’s much more important is realizing the preciousness of who you are right now; that your gifts are full and enough and exactly what God loves about you. Regardless of whichever emphasis you choose, each practice of recognition is a step we need to take before we can offer that gift back to God. 

I wonder if you’ve seen the old joke about the wisewomen. That after the wisemen came to Mary and her newborn, the wisewomen showed up, bearing diapers, casseroles, and formula. They are wise enough to bring good, practical gifts that meet baby Jesus where he is right now: a hungry, stinky, demanding infant. In comparison, the original magis’ gifts are much more symbolic. They point to the baby’s holy destiny: gold for his kingship, frankincense for his divinity, myrrh for his martyrdom. Those gifts pointed to how Jesus will become God’s greatest gift to the world. Two kinds of gifts: full and enough gifts for right now, and aspirational gifts that point to where we are headed. 

In a moment I’m going to ask you to finish this sermon yourself. Each of you have received a star, and hopefully can find a writing implement, too. Here is your task:

I want you to take a moment to think about a spiritual gift you have that you’d like to offer back to God in some way this year. This could be a gift you have known about yourself, one that others have identified in you, one you are actively learning to cultivate. Or it could be a gift that you are still reaching for, a gift you hope that God will strengthen in you, even if you don’t quite feel like you have it yet. This gift might be patience, or enthusiasm, or a willingness to work hard. I’ve certainly seen those gifts around this parish in spades! Or maybe you’d like to write down a gift that’s a bit more like a skill - like singing or writing or building repair. Whatever that gift is, I’d like you to write it down on your star. During our offertory, our children will come around to collect your stars. They will be processed up the altar with all our other gifts and placed on our creche, an offering to God.

In doing this spiritual act together, we are thanking God for the gifts we’ve received. We are also promising to use them for God’s purpose this year - offering them back to God in service.

Before you start hemming and hawing about which gift to choose and offer, I want to leave you with one more thought. Two actually: 

1.If this practice is hard for you, if you are sitting here thinking, I don’t have any gifts or all my gifts feel used up, come talk to me. 

 2. In a moment we will sing together one of my favorite Christmas carols based on a Christina Rossetti poem from 1872. At the end of the poem, the poet looks around and worries about what she has to offer the baby Jesus in comparison to everyone else: 

“What can I give Him,

Poor as I am? —

If I were a Shepherd

I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man

I would do my part, —

Yet what I can I give Him, —

Give my heart.”

What matters most is not that the gift we give is better or worse than what others can give. What matters most is that the gift is precious to us. Because it will be precious to God.