Seeing With Traveler’s Eyes - A Meditation for Epiphany Sunday
by Ginger Pyron and Lanny Peters
Oakhurst Baptist Church
Not long ago, my god-daughter Brett told me that she and her husband try to look at situations in a fresh way by reminding each other to “see with traveler’s eyes.” I liked this idea. We hear a lot about life as a journey, but how often do we think of ourselves as travelers? Sometimes we travelers journey with direction and purpose; other times we choose to wander a bit, investigating new paths. Always, though, we expect to run across signs that can tell us where we’re headed, and where we are.
Take, for instance, the array of travelers in our beloved Advent story. Mary actually received one sign months before she journeyed so heavily to Bethlehem. Her visit from the angel, as things turned out, was a pretty clear guidepost. Joseph, too, encountered a sign early on: a dream, telling him “Don’t worry. It’s okay.” The shepherds’ sign was something no one could miss: a crowd of angels in the night, a glorious unearthly song, and some traveling directions only slightly less precise than Mapquest. And the wise men? Long study prepared them to recognize–and to follow–a sign that others, less attuned to ancient prophecies, might have overlooked: a brilliant, compelling star.
For many years, I’ve made a spiritual practice of sign-watching. Every November, on my birthday, I choose a theme to explore during the next twelve-months’ journey. It’s typically a single word, one that somehow speaks to a state of well-being that I either need, desire, or simply want to explore. The best words are those that hold both literal and symbolic resonance–for example, water, morning, hands, room.
This year I chose the theme of clues: I wanted to look very deliberately with traveler’s eyes, to see everything in my life–friends, strangers, conversations, experiences, the natural world, and of course, the surprises–as clues to the great mystery of God. Being a word-lover, I turned first to etymology for new thoughts about my theme, and learned that a clue can be literally a lifeline. Long ago, the English word “clue” was spelled clew, meaning a ball of thread. Our current understanding of clues as “things that help us solve problems” came from Greek mythology: Once upon a time, young Ariadne wanted to help the famous hero Theseus defeat the Minotaur, a bullish monster that routinely ate up selected teenagers of Athens. So Ariadne gave Theseus quite literally a clue: a ball of thread to unwind as he found his way into the Minotaur’s vast labyrinth, so that later, he could find his way out again–and could take her along on his getaway cruise.
Besides their spiritual and practical uses, themes often have a playful side. Since my birthday is near Halloween, this year I rummaged in the thrift store for a clue-ish costume and settled on a gaudy blue-sequined dress, which my friend Lindy helped me decorate with peacock feathers. Dressed in this outfit, and carrying my signature accessory–a large, borrowed wrench–I went to a dance disguised as . . . can you guess? . . . Mrs. Peacock, a character from the board game called Clue. I was Mrs. Peacock–with the wrench–in the dance hall.
Later that week, at the annual theme birthday party my friends put together, all the serving dishes on the dinner table were covered, and taped to each lid was a riddle about the contents. I had to solve all the riddles before we could eat. (We got pretty hungry before it was all over.) Afterward, treasure-hunt clues led me to my gifts, which included a magnifying glass, mystery, and a homemade, etymologically correct “clew” of my own–very useful for escaping life’s dangerous labyrinths. During Advent season, our close group of friends–spanning five different decades in age–spent a festive evening together, sharing what we’re all learning from our current themes: clues, weaving, courage, stitch, bloom, sword.
I now know almost 30 people around the country who’ve taken up yearly theming as a way to live more attentively. We’ve all found that when you have a theme, your special word acts a bit like the book Where’s Waldo?: it stimulates your curiosity, helps you focus, and then leaps suddenly into your awareness. You run across your theme-word in song lyrics and poetry, in movies and sermons. It pops up in conversations; it visits your dreams. You may see it on a billboard or hear about it on NPR. Any book title containing your word instantly catches your eye–and sometimes leads you to the message you needed most.
Because of your theme, interesting new activities may suggest themselves. The year that Melissa Range’s theme was ground, she and I spent an entire afternoon on the peaceful grounds of Oakland cemetery, talking about the word’s spiritual meanings and even burying some small, symbolic tokens there. My friend Donna, during her year of trees, spent time sculpting tree-images and thinking about her own internal roots and branches. Chris Copeland told me that when bridges was his theme of the year, he made a special point of driving over the Golden Gate Bridge. Karen Shipp once chose the theme of wilderness, which a small group of us celebrated in a park along Ponce de Leon–with songs, drumming, a “wilderness” dance, and some thoughtful discussion about the possibilities this theme offered for Karen’s new year.
This week, just for fun, I looked through the lectionary’s four scriptural texts for today–taken from the books of Psalms, Isaiah, Matthew, and Ephesians–to see if they contained any words that people I know have chosen for themes. To my delight, many familiar words appeared– themes whose lessons have marked the years of my friends, and thus have marked my years as well. The passages yielded these theme words: dream, star, gift, light, glory, dawn, heart, joy, rain, hills, moon, grace.
The search for a suitable theme is wide open, because any word may speak to a traveler’s current state of mind and spirit: fountain, river, tapestry, garden, fire, roads. One year when I needed some prosperity–a working car, a real job, health insurance–I chose alchemy, the medieval science of trying to turn base metals into gold. Another year, recovering from a deep disappointment, I selected phoenix–the mythical bird that, after dying, is re-born from its own ashes. When I turned 50, entering a decade that I hoped would be a time of graceful change, I chose turning–a word that still holds layers of meaning for me.
And themes sometimes evolve in ways you hadn’t anticipated: During my year of cup, I joined Oakhurst–and unexpectedly found the cup of my spirit soon filled to overflowing. Early in the year of wings, my lovely mother died, and my theme eventually helped me look beyond sadness to acknowledge both her new freedom and mine. One year I selected the word well, determining to take better care of my physical and emotional self–and by year’s end, I had learned how closely my health is linked to my willingness to draw from the deep well, the infinite source, that is God.
Today we’re celebrating Epiphany, a word that literally means something made manifest, something suddenly perceived and freshly understood. The wise men journeyed far to see with their own travel-sharpened eyes the long-promised child called Emmanuel: God with us. God no longer distant. God–here. That’s mysterious, all right. But today, we’re saying it’s possible, and we’re gathering clues that prove it.
Sister travelers, brother travelers, in this new year, I offer you not another resolution to live up to, but a clue to live by: the practice of seeing with traveler’s eyes. From time to time, pause to wonder as you wander–and scan for the signs along your path. We all know the biblical promise: Seek, and you shall find. In his intriguing book How to Know God, Deepak Chopra affirms that God is a very real presence. That God wants to be known. That God can be known. And that God has left us clues everywhere–not only all around us, but also within our own minds.
The next time you hear yourself saying, “I don’t have a clue,” stop and reconsider. You are not clueless. Every facet of your life abounds with clues to the highest Mystery of all, and your happy recreation is to notice them. Look for them with your traveler’s eyes–perhaps through the lens of one special word that, like a brilliant and compelling star, shimmers with significance just for you.
Lanny Peters
One of the things I love most about being pastor of this church is the ways I learn from you. Another thing I love is how often I am surprised. I did not start out in Advent knowing that I would share the pulpit almost every Sunday with someone with a story to tell which became part of my sermon. But each week a conversation jumped out at me with a gift I received that I wanted to share with the rest of you. Leah Lonsbury’s story of finding Jesus and his family looking for shelter concluding with, “Well, Jesus just gave me a hug and smeared wet Cheerios all over my shirt. That’s what I’m hanging on to today.” Kate Hauk’s story of two gentle Josephs who surround her: “One is my father, who told me that I was worth more than all the silver in the world. The other was my son, who traded his $5 dinner to get me something pretty and golden, worth more to me than the price of rubies.” Dave Hilton’s story of about a hundred people with leprosy, his patients, walking some ten miles to form a circle on their patio to dance and sing songs of joy as Dave and Laveta joined them in their bathrobes. Ginger’s epiphany that this service could focus on “Seeing with Traveler’s Eyes.”
My life as pastor of Oakhurst can be at times stressful, but it is rarely lonely because of the companions I travel with. For years, I have loved hearing about Ginger’s annual themes. I once sat at her kitchen table during her “cup” year and selected from a wonderful assortment a cup for tea. As we enjoyed our tea and stories, she gave me a card with a picture of the very teacup I was drinking from with a thoughtful note inside. “How did you do that?” I asked in amazement. To which she replied with a twinkle, “I don’t know, I just had a sense that you would pick that one.”
And yet, for some reason, I never got around to picking an annual theme for myself. Until now. I am not waiting until my birthday, but am choosing a theme for myself starting today as the season of Epiphany begins. My theme this year is going to be “light.” Ginger, I have finally seen the light. The magi, or wise men, that were guided by the light of a star inspired my theme. Over the last years, I have come to see them in a new light as I realized they were the first travelers in the gospel on an interfaith journey. They were not Jews and there is no indication that they became Christians. The week before Christmas, Karen and I hosted a Christmas party for Muslims and Jews. Because we had been warmly welcomed into mosques and synagogues, as well as homes of Muslims and Jews, we wanted to return the hospitality. Our home was decorated with all our favorite traditions.
We shared a wonderful meal and great conversation around our table. Then we invited them to share in our Advent tradition. As we have done all our boy’s lives, we had twenty-nine Advent candles across our mantle, for each day in Advent. On the First Sunday in Advent, we light one, the next day two, and so forth, enjoying seeing the light grow as we approach Christmas. After we light the candles, our family has a time of reflection. So as we lit the Advent candles with our guests, we talked together about light, and how light is such an important part of each of our faith traditions in such things as our rituals and metaphors and scriptures. In the center of the twenty-nine Advent candles was our white Christ candle waiting to be lit on Christmas day, representing Christ as the light of the world. And though I hold that to be true for me, I was also aware of God’s light shining from my Muslim and Jewish friends, and the ways they enlighten me about whom God is.
According to the first definition in my Webster’s dictionary, light is “That which makes things visible or affords illumination.” This year I want to open myself up to that kind of light. I want to open myself up more to mystery rather than certainty. Webster’s also says, light “is a form of radiant energy which acts on the organs of sight and moves with a velocity of about 186,300 miles per second by undulations of waves which vary in length from 4000 to 7000 angstroms.” I do not understand what that means except that it is an amazing mystery that we even can look at each other.
I want to be open this year to seeing things in a new light, as I too often get stuck in my way of seeing things. With traveler’s eyes, I would like to look at things in various lights. I would like to ask God to help me not to light into folks as I sometimes do, especially my children and wife. I need to get some illumination as to why we take out our frustrations on those we love. Related to this, I want to pray to God to shine some light on those things inside me that fear the light and yet can only find healing from the light, those unspoken fears which burden, and sometimes keep me awake at night, and at times lead me towards depression.
Connected to this, I would like to explore Jesus’ saying, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 10:28-30) How can one face straight on the heaviness of the world as Jesus did and yet live into his promise that the burden is light. Is it possible to be a light heavyweight?
What I have found this Advent and Christmas season is that I am surrounded by God’s light, that I have wonderful traveling companions to hold the light for me, some even being a lighthouse when I seem lost at sea. So consider choosing a theme to help you see with traveler’s eyes what God has waiting along the way. It is my prayer and hope that with my focus on my theme, I can take to heart Jesus’ words, “You are the light of the world….Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your God in heaven.” (Matthew 5: 14a, 16b) ---Lanny Peters
Benediction
Hear the words of the great African-American theologian and mystic Howard Thurman:
When the song of the angels is still,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are back home,
When the shepherds are back with their sheep,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among people,
To make music in the heart.