Where's Jesus? Some Thoughts After Epiphany

One of the most enduring traditions in the Connecticut church I served before coming here, was called the Angel Breakfast.  Every year, a couple of weeks before Christmas, the members of the Board of Christian Education would turn the social hall into a little bit of heaven.  Golden stars were hung from the ceiling, tables were covered with white linens and decorated with shining candles and sprays of gold, and at the front of the room, the stage was festooned with puffy clouds and rays of starlight.

All the children in third grade and under were invited to come with their parents on Sunday morning before worship for a special breakfast.  Carols were sung, sometimes there would be a craft, and the highlight of the event was a visit by a band of angels.

The angels, of course, were make believe, young folks in middle and high school dressed in white robes with golden haloes.  Originally it was all girls, but the celestial ceiling was finally broken in 2005 by some brave young men who rose to the challenge.  Their role in the festivities was to stand watch on either side of the curtain as the girl angels first sang, and then descended down the stage steps and out into the audience.

The loveliest part of the whole affair came when the angels spread out and, one-by-one, whispered a special message into each child's ear telling them Christmas was on the way. 

One year one of the Dads told me how his youngest child Jane was spellbound by the event.  She was just three at the time, and was very pleased when the angel whispered in her ear, "Jesus is coming!"

As things would happen, just as the angel left their table, Jane needed to go to the bathroom.  So Dad took her by the hand, and out they went to the restroom down the hall.

A few minutes later when they came back into the social hall, Jane stood at the door, surveyed the whole scene, and then, looking up at her Dad asked, "So where's Jesus?  Where is he?"

Jane's question turns out to be the same as the one asked by the Magi, the wisemen,  in the familiar story from Matthew. 



I've thought about that question a lot over the years, and while

I don't know about you, but when I reconsidered the whole story--not just the sweetness and light of the beloved carol about three kings and  gifts, but the whole story--I suddenly came to realize, it contains an answer to Jane and the Magi's question.  Where's Jesus?  Right in the middle of this story of brave strangers,  a vicious ruler, political intrigue, untold violence and refugees far from home.  "Where's Jesus?"  Right in the middle of life--everyday life.  Life at its best, when it calls forth the courage and persistence of folks like the magi.  And life at its worst, when it flares up in the scheming and menace of the Herods of this world. For  Jesus can be found wherever life takes us.  The places we want to go, and the places we try desperately to avoid.  But we will miss seeing Jesus unless, like the Magi, we are looking for him.  For he can, and does, show up in the most unexpected places, and is at work in the most unexpected people.  Not just two-thousand years ago, but in our own time as well.