Change of Direction

Recently I came across a report that appeared in an American newspaper in the 1950s that appealed to my sense of humour. It reads. “A search of Lake Pocotopaug for a reported drowning victim was called off here Tuesday when it was realised that one of the volunteers helping the search, Robert Hausman, was the person being sought.” On a more serious note, this is a story of a search that suddenly had to stop and a change of direction made by the searchers who, no doubt, repaired to a place of refreshment.

The Epiphany story of the kings has a similar resonance, for it is a story of a search that, in this case, stopped when the object of their search was revealed. When they saw, they were compelled to make a change of direction. The kings were probably not kings, but sages, wise men, though no one really knows. What we do know is that when they saw the star, believing it to be a portent, decided to stop their normal life and begin their search. They climbed over the edge of their existence to follow that star. We take it for granted that those wise men found it easy to do what they did. They didn't. We all know how difficult it is to change our routine, to do something we are not familiar with, to take risks. History is witness to the Christopher Columbuses and the Captain Cooks of this world who took risks to embark on a great adventure to explore, to search and discover. A light flickered in their minds. They simply went and followed that light, in the same way that the wise men followed that star.

The wise men followed the star faithfully, despite the risks. They followed slowly but surely, patiently with hope, and encountering on the way the evil machinations of king Herod, until they were stopped in their tracks by the star, pointing to the object of their search. The search was over. Before them – an ordinary baby. But was he? They didn't think so, for their eyes were opened and they saw.

In that baby they began to see something of the reality they had been searching for and had not found it until now. They saw in him the clue to the meaning of life. That is why they were moved to offer their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh – tokens of their own lives, giving themselves to what was real and true. Their experience at Bethlehem affected them deeply. In that baby, not only did they see what was real and true, they also realised that in some strange way they were being disturbed. Somehow, their lives were changed by him, and they simply had to respond to that change. We are told that they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, so they returned home another way. What Matthew tells us may be seen as an acted parable. The wise men felt compelled to change direction. They could never be the same again and, most certainly, could not return to their old way of life Their experience and wisdom should make us take a long hard look at that baby and the man who grew from him.

At the beginning of his Gospel, Mark records Jesus' clarion call: The time has come; the kingdom of God is upon you; repent, and believe the Gospel. So much hangs on that word ‘repent'. When words are used for a long period sometimes their meaning changes. They begin by meaning one thing and then come to mean another. In Jesus' time ‘repent' did not mean to feel sorry for something one did or did not do in the past. It meant to change direction. Jesus knew that men and women were in a rut – the rut of being alienated from God. And once in a rut there is only one direction that anyone can take and that ultimately ends in disaster.

When I was a curate in south east London, the trams had only recently disappeared from the streets, though the tramlines remained for a little longer. As the only mode of transport for the clergy was a bicycle, we had to take care not to wander into those iron ruts. If we did, you can imagine the outcome – a clerical catastrophe! Jesus did not have ‘getting into an ecclesiastical rut' in mind when he declaimed Repent .

Look at it from another perspective. You may remember the rhetorical question from the pen of Jeremiah – Can the leopard change his spots? It passed into English parlance as a statement – “The leopard can never change its spots”. Well, don't believe a word of it! We are all leopards and we all have our spots. They are called sins, weaknesses, failures, guilt feelings. Some of us delude ourselves that we cannot change our spots; some of us even persuade ourselves that we don't want to change our spots. But Jesus declares that we can change our spots if we are to become what God created us to be – Christlike. He really does mean ‘change', and that is central to his Gospel. But in order to achieve this change the Gospel proclaims strange but essential paradoxes.

There are sayings of Jesus that give comfort and hope and we hang on every word. But there are sayings that disturb, and those we tend to ignore. The man who said, "My burden is easy, and my yoke is light" also said, "Take up your cross and follow me." The man who said, "I am the vine, you are the branches" also said, "He who does not dwell in me is thrown away like a withered branch." The man who said, "The kingdom of heaven is within you" also said, "Not everyone who says Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven." The Gospel is indeed good news so long as we are aware that it contains essential disturbing elements that call for change to make us Christ-like. We cannot have the Gospel on our own terms. Otherwise it is not the Gospel.

There is always this perennial danger that we only listen to those words of Jesus that appeal to us, that fit in with our life-style, that make us feel comfortable, that can provide us with a religious veneer, while not intending to involve ourselves in too much commitment. This means we are not listening to the real Christ and we are not seeing the real Christ as the wise men saw him and began to understand. If we exercise that same perception as they did, it can make a profound difference in the way we understand ourselves, the way we live our lives and the way we respond to people and to God's world.

The Church must always be on its guard against allowing the living Christ to be