“To the Ends of the Earth” 
January 4, 2026
Rev. Rebecca Migliore
The twelve days of Christmas are almost over! January 6th is Epiphany, traditionally the day we celebrate the Magi, the Wise Ones, who came to offer their gifts to the Christ child. But Epiphany is more than just one day. The revealing of who this Christ child is, and the continual revealing of God’s Self to us is the focus of the next portion of the Christian year—the time after Epiphany.
So today I would like to wrap up our celebration of the nativity by musing on the Wise Ones—and setting the stage for the coming year of listening to the gospel of Matthew (what is called Year A--with some John thrown in for good measure). It is only in Matthew that there is any talk about these Wise Ones [and let’s be true to Scripture: 1) they are not kings but magi, wise ones (were they philosophers? Or astrologists? Or spiritual advisors? We don’t know) but they were from the East and 2) we have no idea how many of them there were but 3) they brought three (or three kinds) of gifts: gold for a king, frankincense for a priest, myrrh for anointing and burial].
We often associate the Wise Ones with the Star in the heavens—the star that is so prominent in our nativity images. If the star had been that obvious, don’t you think that others would have found their way to the manger? Don’t you think that Herod might have been curious about what was happening in his kingdom that prompted this spectacular display? But almost no one seems to have noticed. Only these foreigners, these people from the east, saw a change, saw a glimmer, saw something that prompted them to put together a caravan, and walk/ride for close to two years to find out what great thing had happened.
They felt they were looking for a king, a new king, a baby born king. And they were willing to follow that star wherever it went, as the hymn reminds us. So this is our first clue, our first revealing of God and God’s relationship with us. In the beginning, as the flesh came and dwelt with us, as God broke into our world as one of us, there weren’t fireworks, almost no one knew. It was a gentle, almost quiet entrance. Slipping in through the back door you might say. Certainly not pulling up in a limo, stepping onto the red carpet, or posing for photos, or waving to the adoring crowds.
No, God came to be with us as most babies do—entering the world surrounded by family. Celebrated by the few.
But…but there are always those who are on the lookout for the ways in which our world tilts just a little when God presses near. There are always those who have eyes to see and ears to hear and the strength to turn towards whatever that something might be. And so, I wish upon a star, that we might be those people this year. I wish for us to be able to perceive the ways that God wrinkles the time and space around us. I wish for us to be on the lookout for signs in the heavens and closer by. I wish for us to be adventurous enough, to be courageous enough, to get on the road, journeying towards Jesus, so we too can worship and adore.
I notice that it wasn’t God’s chosen people that were paying attention, but those from far away—those who probably didn’t look like Jesus, or talk like Mary and Joseph, or dress in a Hebrew way. Here was the Messiah, the Immanuel being born, and the only ones who come to worship (at least in Matthew) are outsiders. And so, within our service today we sang the Christmas story told from a native American point of view (‘Twas in the Moon of Wintertide), and we will lift up a prayer for peace in Arabic, reminders that we are invited into a world that isn’t always familiar, but is part of God’s kingdom come.
This certainly wasn’t a new idea in the story of God with God’s people. But I think there is always a tendency that when you are in the “in” group, you forget that God is usually found in the “out” group. Do we remember that Jesus seemed to be hanging out with those on the margins of society—the lepers, the tax collectors, the poor? Do we remember that Jesus often talked about coming to save the lost, not the found? Do we sometimes forget to focus ourselves on those who are not yet in the fold—for that is where Jesus is often to be found?
This idea prompted me to call this sermon “to the ends of the earth”—because the writer of Matthew begins and ends his gospel with these wide expansive ideas.
Wise Ones come to worship this new baby—signaling that Jesus’ message was not just for the insular “people of God.”
And, if we somehow get through the whole gospel and still haven’t gotten the message, at the end, Jesus charges us to “go and make disciples of all nations.”
This God, who came to be with us, who brings us a message of love and justice and mercy—is not meant to be locked away for only us to see. This message of love, this God being with us, is meant for the world.
So on the one hand, God slides into our lives gently, quietly, almost unnoticed. But once God is here, that is meant to turn everything upside-down. Epiphany means that not only is God revealed in Jesus, not only is God still revealing God’s Self to us, but we are supposed to participate in that revealing—we are to go out in the world and witness to this wondrous God. The secret is a secret no longer. It is so wonderful that everyone needs to hear, everyone needs to know how great God is!
But before we leave on our quest, there is also a word of warning in this story. God’s breaking into our world does not bring joy to everyone. God’s presence with us, God’s coming kin-dom, God’s reversal of the way things are right now, is threatening to those in power. And they will not roll over lightly. Herod, the minute he learns from these “wise” ones that there might be a new king—goes into overdrive. Oh, he pretends he is being helpful, he pretends that he too wants to worship this new king, he pretends that he isn’t stark raving mad about the idea of someone else being in charge. He gathers his cabinet and gets the best minds he has to figure out: where this child might have been born (Bethlehem they think), and elicits from the wise ones (who seem pretty naïve and stupid about the ways of the world) When this star appeared.
Our story says, “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him…” For some reason, that line stuck out this year. I understand why Herod might be frightened (from not wanting a rival to concerns that there might be trouble and he would be the one blamed)—but why all Jerusalem with him? And all of a sudden, I had this image of Herod’s ICE agents, swarming all the areas of his kingdom, especially those areas where unrest might be fomented, breaking down doors and rounding up people. Gathering birth records, making lists, and terrorizing any who got in their way. Isn’t that the way of autocrats? To make us afraid, because they are afraid? Isn’t that the way it has worked in century after century, in empire after empire?
And what does the story tell us about how to deal with such a time as this? Well, the magi get warned in a dream to not participate in Herod’s schemes (they leave by another way-going back to where they came from).
And the holy family will also get warned in a dream to flee from Herod’s wrath, and they decamp to Egypt until it is safe for them to return.
But not everyone gets warned, not everyone can leave or escape. People were right to be frightened because Herod, when he finds the Magi are not going to return, he takes his information—the where, and the when and he sends out his agents again—this time to kill every male child two years and under. A horrible story (and one we rarely read during our sanitized Christmas celebrations). But here is the proof that God is so desperately needed in our world. Because where is love? Where is justice? Where is mercy?
What does Epiphany say to us? For we are living in a time when a new powerful person who would like to be king feels he has the right to send his agents into every highway and byway, grabbing people from their cars in their driveways, grabbing kids from their schools, going into workplaces, and even trying to come into churches. Is it enough to not participate in this madness (to be like the Magi and go home by a different route)? Is it right to be blind to what is happening to our neighbors whether we know them or not (by escaping into our safe places)? No, I think if God’s message of love and justice and mercy is a message for the world, a message we are supposed to embody, then we must stand up. How?
Have you heard about the Chicago neighborhoods who resisted ICE? Have you heard about how they handed out whistles and asked people to be on the lookout for ICE on their street? Have you heard about how soccer moms and working stiffs and good church folk wore their whistles with pride, and blew them—short blasts for ICE in the area (as a warning for people in harm’s way to lock doors or slip out the back)—or long blasts for ICE detaining someone, so people could gather and film it and not let this happen in quiet.
Each of us has to figure out how we are going to follow the light of God, and if you so choose, I want us to be prepared. So, I have a whistle for each of us. Use it, or wear it, or give it away. Those of us who are safe, those of us who are in the know, those of us who have heard about the love of God for the world, especially those who are looked upon as outsiders—cannot be silent. We may not be able to stop it, but we certainly can put a cog in the wheels, we certainly can make it uncomfortable for those who are participating, we certainly can stand up for those beloved of God. May it be so..A/A