Perpetual Fire (Leviticus 6:8-13)

 This may not be the scripture you were expecting to hear this morning. Usually, on or around Epiphany (which is tomorrow), we hear the story of the magi, following the star to Bethlehem, then presenting to Jesus their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Most of you are familiar with the story of the magi (sometimes called “the three wise men”), and I want you to keep that story in the back of your mind. 

But I’m inspired today to begin not with a lectionary reading, and not with the story of the magi… but with Leviticus.

We… don’t pay a lot of attention to Leviticus. It almost never appears in the lectionary. The first section of Leviticus, from which today’s scripture comes, is mostly filled with instructions on how to offer sacrifices: What types of sacrifices there are, when the sacrifices are to be made, what animals are to be sacrificed, how they are to be prepared. It does this for burnt offerings, grain offerings, offerings of well-being, sin offerings, and guilt offerings.

It’s not the most exciting part of the Bible to read.

But today’s passage, about the perpetual fire, caught my attention, because just before Christmas I read an essay by Noach Dzmura in the book Torah Queeries that focused on this passage and made it very interesting.

Dzmura, a Jewish community leader, teacher, and writer, points out that, in this passage from Leviticus, the command is given that the fire shall not go out, but that it shall be kept burning. 

It says this not once, not twice, but multiple times. “The fire shall be kept burning. The fire shall be kept burning. The fire shall not go out. A perpetual fire shall be kept burning; it shall not go out.”

When something is repeated multiple times like this, you know it’s important. Ancient scripture writers didn’t underline things, or write in italics, or use bold print or ALL CAPS to emphasize their point. Instead, they used repetition. 

Dzmura’s essay pointed out that this command, to keep the fire burning, is why Jewish synagogues today have an eternal light burning in their place of worship: a light that symbolizes God's eternal presence and covenant with the Jewish people.

However, Dzmura lamented how that small light—often electric—is a much diminished version of the fire described in Leviticus, which was big and bright and alive; a real bonfire.

The fire by the altar described in Leviticus—the fire that symbolizes God’s eternal presence—is itself reminiscent of an even bigger fire: the pillar of fire and cloud that led the Israelites out of Egypt…

And while the endless instructions given in Leviticus may not exactly be the most interesting things to read, the story of the pillar of fire and cloud leading the Israelites sure did capture my imagination as a child; and it still does…

Imagine that giant pillar of fire at night… It's like Burning Man, but it never goes out; it requires no fuel, and it moves to lead and guide the people! A blazing column, reaching from the ground to the sky!

That pillar of fire was entirely God’s doing; but the perpetual fire beside the altar requires human action to keep going. Priests have to make sure that fire doesn’t go out, by constantly providing fuel for the fire, to keep it burning.

That fire may symbolize the presence of God, but it requires tending. That fire needs people to care for it and nurture it.

Fire continues to serve as a symbol of God’s presence. Every Sunday, we light candles here in our sanctuary. We don’t light them for warmth. We don't light them for illumination. We light them because the flames remind us that God is present, in this place.

I’ve always been fascinated by flames. Not in a “let’s burn everything down” sort of way; but I often find myself mesmerized by the sight of a flame. 

When I was in boy scouts and we’d go on week-long backpacking trips in the Sierra Nevada, we’d often end the day by lighting a small campfire, if the conditions allowed. We couldn’t always have a fire. When you’re above 10,000 feet in elevation, there aren’t enough trees, which means there’s very little wood for firebuilding. But lower down, in the forests below 10,000 feet, the ground was covered with plenty of fallen sticks and branches that could be gathered for firewood.

And as the sun set, and the stars came out, and the temperature dropped, we’d stand around the fire, bask in the warmth, and view the glowing reflections on each other’s faces as we told jokes and stories. 

But most of the time, our eyes were on the fire. The colors of the flames, usually a shade of orange, but sometimes with sparks of blue or green or violet, it all gradually turning deep red as the wood was consumed and turned to coals...

It’s so mysterious. That red glow looks almost liquid, or like a mist, a vapor, alive and ghostly, flowing and floating between the pieces of wood, except that it’s not a liquid, nor a gas, nor a solid. It’s just pure energy.

And it’s beautiful. And mesmerizing.

No wonder the ancients saw fire as a sign of God’s presence. So they kept it burning, beside the altar in the tabernacle, in the temple, in the synagogue… and in the hearts of the people.

Jewish scholars and rabbis over the centuries liked to emphasize this last point. The fire that is kept burning beside the altar is also to be kept burning in the hearts of the people. God’s presence resides within us just as much as it resides anywhere else—perhaps even more so, since we are made in God’s own image.

Which leads me to ask:

• How do you keep the fire burning within you? 

• How do you tend the flame of your own heart? 

• How do you recognize, and honor, the presence of God that is in you?

There are forces in this world—people—who act to quench the fire within you. People who try to snuff out the flame burning within you. People who make you question your own worth. People who make you doubt your own ability or purpose. 

You're told you’re not good enough. You’re told you’re always doing things wrong. You’re told, or made to feel, that the world would be better off without you.

And the light within you begins to fade.

Sometimes, it’s hard work, tending the flame, and keeping it going. 

The magi followed a star. The star led them to the child in whom God’s presence dwelt more fully than in any other human.

And what is a star, but a bright light, a burning fire, in the sky?

But even our view of the stars must be tended, cared for.

Because city lights make it hard to see the stars.

A few years ago, Ginger, Ethan and I visited several southwestern national Parks: Zion, Bryce, and Grand Canyon. And those parks are designated dark sky zones.

And, as it turned out, they were having a big astronomy and stargazing festival while we were there. 

So we got to look up at the stars not only with our naked eyes, but also through various telescopes. 

Yet even with the naked eye, the stars are so much more bright and vivid when you’re far, far away from any sources of artificial light.

It’s ironic, isn’t it, that to better see the light, we need to preserve the darkness. That, too, may provide a hint as to how we tend to the light within us: tend to the light, but honor the darkness as well.

Anyway, these thoughts bring me now to the stars we have for each of you. 

For the past six years, I have given out stars on the Sunday closest to Epiphany— stars with words on them—because I realized that we all could use a little help when it comes to navigating through life. Another way to say that is that I hope the words on these stars will help you tend the fire within you, so that it can shine a little more brightly in the year to come.

Today, we have a basket full of stars, and you are invited to take one. You can take it when you come up for communion, or you can come up after worship and grab it then.

If you are worshiping with us online, you can wait until the next time you are here in person to get your star… or, we have set up an alternative way for you to get a star-word, which you can find on our Facebook page…

Each star has a different word. The hope is that the word on your star will, in some way, help guide you on your faith journey in the coming year.

Maybe your star (and the word on your star) is a reminder to give thanks for how God guides you. 

Maybe your star is encouraging you to focus more on whatever word appears on it. 

I’m not telling you how your star or your word should guide you. That’s for you to figure out.

But if you ever have trouble praying, maybe the word on your star is a good word to focus on as you pray.

And if you’re not sure where your faith journey is leading you - if, on some days you aren’t sure what to believe anymore, or you aren’t even sure that you do believe anymore - maybe the word on your star can help.

If your heart is filled with fear, or anxiety, or doubt - perhaps your star can help with that.

Your star word may be a challenge, it may be an affirmation, it may be a comfort. That’s for you to figure out.

But hopefully, it helps guide you in some way, as you journey through the coming year.

And, hopefully, it will help you tend to that sacred, holy fire within, and keep it burning, casting God’s light into the world.

A Star to Guide You (Matthew 2)

 One of the things I’m looking forward to in 2024 is spending time at Camp Walter Scott, which is the camp and learning center owned and operated by First Christian Church and the other congregations of the Illinois-Wisconsin region. 

Camp is such an important experience for young people. It enriches the lives of youth, and strengthens congregational ministry.

One of my very favorite things to do when I’m at camp is to take campers out at night to a dark place, and look at the stars.

I tell the campers that, for thousands of years, humans have gazed up at the stars. People throughout history, in countless generations, watched the stars…night after night…season after season; and after observing the stars night after night, season after season, they began to notice some things.

First, they noticed that all the stars moved together across the sky, rising in the east, and setting in the west, much like the sun; and that the path that they followed was an arc, with Polaris, the north star, at the center.

Those ancient observers also noticed that, if they used their imagination, they could see shapes and images in the stars. They imagined animals, gods, and mythological creatures.

At this point, at camp, I would point out a few of these constellations: Ursa Major (the Big Dipper); Scorpio; the constellations of the Summer Triangle… 

And every night, all these constellations move together across the sky, rising and setting four minutes earlier each night; for this reason, some of them are seen more easily in one season, and others are seen more easily in other seasons.

It all follows a predictable pattern.

But ancient people noticed that a few of the stars they saw didn’t follow this pattern. These few stars seemed to follow their own paths. 

And maybe, in one season, these stars would be located in one constellation, but as the seasons changed, so did the position of these few stars. Sometimes, these stars would even appear to move in one direction for a while, but then stop, and move in a different direction.

The ancient Babylonians were the first to realize that these wandering stars weren’t stars at all, but something else entirely. Eventually they were given the name planets, from a Greek word that means “wanderer.”

Ancient people also saw comets, which looked like stars, but with tails, and which also seemed to follow their own paths.

And, generation after generation, people would continue observing the night sky, learning more about the wonders of the universe God created.

In today’s scripture story, magi came from the east to Jerusalem, looking for Jesus. They were guided by a star, which they had been observing.

I don’t know if this star that they saw was actually a planet, or if it was a comet, or what. Many have speculated over the years about this particular star.

And, in Matthew’s gospel, it could be that this story is more parable than historical account. I’m not sure that Matthew even knew the difference between a star, a planet, and a comet.

But, as Matthew describes it, these magi were observers of the stars, and they came to Jerusalem and, eventually, to Bethlehem, following this particular star, which seemed to follow its own path, and which was leading them to the “king of the Jews.”

Now, there’s a lot more to this story. It sets up the conflict between the kingdom of Herod, and the kingdom of God, a conflict that is central to the gospel.

And we could talk without end about how much of this story is literal and historical, and how much is parable and metaphor.

Nevertheless, I am fascinated by the story of these magi, travelers from a far away land—foreigners who probably didn’t even worship the God of Abraham—following a star a long distance, a star that didn’t move like all the other stars, a star which followed its own path, and guided them to Jesus.

I’m fascinated that the star led them to Jerusalem, led them to Herod, led them to Jesus—yet the star didn’t guide them to the temple. Last week, I talked about how the temple was the most magnificent house of worship on earth. Yet the temple doesn’t even appear in this story. 

And I wonder how tempted I would be, if I were one of those magi following this star, to take a little side trip, to visit the temple. What better place is there in the ancient world to take a selfie and post on social media? A picture that says, “look at me, I’m at the temple!”

But these magi were not distracted by that. They were intent on following the star.

One of the brightest stars in the sky—and one that’s easy for me to find and point out to campers at summer camp—is Arcturus. That’s what we call it; but in Hawaiian, the name of that star is Hokulea, which is a Hawaiian word that means “star of joy.”

Not long ago, a group of modern-day Hawaiians from the Polynesian Voyaging Society built a traditional Polynesian canoe—the first canoe built in the traditional Polynesian way in over 600 years. When it came time to pick a name for their canoe, they named it after this star. They named their canoe Hokulea, since Hokulea was a star that guided ancient Polynesian voyagers.

In 2017, I had the opportunity to lead a group of youth from the Pacific Southwest Region on a trip to Hawaii. We learned about Hokulea (the canoe), and how its crew had to re-learn, almost from scratch, the ancient way of navigating. They learned to navigate by the stars and the sun. No compass, no GPS. Just sailing their canoe, like Moana, across the vast ocean.

Their goal was to prove that ancient Polynesians were expert navigators, that they were capable of pinpoint accuracy in their navigation. Compared to the vastness of the Pacific Ocean, the Hawaiian Islands are so small. Finding them in a canoe without a compass or GPS would be as hard as finding a needle in a haystack. Some doubted that anyone, ancient or modern, could do that, guided only by the stars. Yet the crew of the Hokulea was determined to prove that it could be done.

Hokulea’s first voyage, from Hawaii to Tahiti, was a great success.

Then, Hokulea set sail for a three-year, around-the-world voyage—again, using only the stars to guide them.

When Hokulea returned from that three-year, around-the-world voyage, its arrival was the biggest cultural event in modern Hawaiian history. It was a symbol of the rebirth of Hawaiian culture. 30,000 people were there at the waterfront, to welcome Hokulea and her crew back to Hawaii.

And among those 30,000 people was our little group of Disciples from southern California.

Hokulea’s journey is an inspiration to people all over the world. In Chicago, there is an organization called the Hokulea Academy of Polynesian Arts. On their website it says that they are inspired by “Hokulea, the star of gladness, which guided early Polynesian explorers to the shores of Hawaii.”

One of the reasons Hokulea’s journey is so inspiring is that navigating a canoe by following the stars is no easy task. Remember that scene in Moana where she dozes off, and all of a sudden, her canoe is going in the wrong direction? It’s hard to stay focused!

The same is true in life. It’s so easy to get distracted, to lose our focus, to lose our way, to lose sight of what it is that is guiding us.

So often, we chase after other things…we find ourselves being guided by other things…

Think back to the year that has just passed. In 2023, what was it that guided you? What “star” did you follow?

Was it leading you to Jesus? Was it leading you to love? Was it leading you to wholeness? 

Or not?

How often were you tempted to follow other things? Other distractions? How often did you stray from the path you knew God was calling you to?

What star did you follow? What purpose guided you? What was your goal, your mission, your purpose? What was your “why,” your reason for doing what you do?

For the past five years, I have given out stars on the Sunday closest to Epiphany— stars with words on them—because I realized that we all could use a little help when it comes to navigating through life. Today, we have a basket full of stars, and you are invited to take one. You can take it when you come up for communion, or you can come up after worship and grab it then.

If you are worshiping with us online, you can wait until the next time you are here in person to get your star… or, we have set up an alternative way for you to get a star-word, which you can find on our Facebook page…

Each star has a different word. The hope is that the word on your star will, in some way, help guide you on your faith journey in the coming year.

Maybe your star (and the word on your star) is a reminder to give thanks for how God guides you. Maybe your star is encouraging you to focus more on whatever word appears on it. I’m not telling you how your star or your word should guide you. That’s for you to figure out.

But if you ever have trouble praying, maybe the word on your star is a good word to focus on as you pray.

And if you’re not sure where your faith journey is leading you - if, on some days you aren’t sure what to believe anymore, or you aren’t even sure that you do believe anymore - maybe the word on your star can help.

If your heart is filled with fear, or anxiety, or doubt - perhaps your star can help with that.

Your star word may be a challenge, or an affirmation, or a comfort. That’s for you to figure out.

But hopefully, it helps guide you in some way, as you journey through the coming year.

So when you take your star, don’t try to pick out a particular word. I heard a clergy friend of mine who also gives out star words at Epiphany say that the magi didn’t choose their star, the star chose them. Reach in to the basket and try to select a star without looking at the word. Look at the word after you’ve pulled your star from the basket.

Take your star home. Place it where you will see it every day. I don’t know how much help it will be to you, but who knows? Maybe it will guide you to something as profound and wonderful as the star that guided those magi all those years ago.

Stars, Pirates, and Dung Beetles (Matthew 2)

 In the latest issue of Christian Century magazine, Peter Marty writes about how migrating animals navigate. Monarch butterflies use the angle of the sun as a compass; sea turtles use geomagnetic cues to guide them across the sea to the very nest where they were born decades earlier; and dung beetles (get this!) navigate via the Milky Way galaxy. 

How is that even possible?

This blows my mind, even though I myself have a fairly good sense of direction. I can usually keep in the back of my mind an awareness of which way is north, or which way I have come from on a journey, and which way I’m headed. I can usually sense where in the sky the sun should be, even if it is cloudy. Here in our sanctuary, I’m facing north, and you all are facing south, and the sun, in the middle of the day, is behind me, which is why the window above the baptistry will glow a little brighter during the day than the window in the back.

But my sense of direction isn’t perfect. One of the things I’m most amazed about when I ride Pirates of the Caribbean at Disneyland is how the design of the ride disorients me. As I walk into the building, my mind is vaguely aware that I’m facing south; and when the boat leaves the loading station, we’re heading south.

But then the ride starts curving slowly to the right - in the darkness, it’s hard to measure the arc of the curve. Your boat goes down a drop, and makes another right turn. It goes down a second drop, and curves to the right yet again, before finally curving back to the left, and by then, unless I’ve been paying very close attention, I’m disoriented, and don’t know which way we’re headed - which, I think, is pure genius on the part of the imagineers who designed that ride. In that particular setting, it’s kinda fun to get a little lost and disoriented.

In the movie Moana, one of the things I noticed was how Moana learned to navigate her canoe across the ocean. Maui taught her to hold her arm out and measure the night sky, to figure out exactly where she is and where she was going.

And perhaps you thought that’s just another made-up Disney idea; yet shortly after the movie Moana was released, I learned that Disney got it right. 

It happened on my first trip to Hawaii, when I led a group of youth from our region on a ten-day trip during which we spent a lot of time learning about Hawaiian culture.

You’ve heard me talk about this trip before, but let me go into a little more detail about what happened on our first morning in Hawaii.

We got up super early. I think it was about 5:00, and our jet-lagged bodies struggled to get out of bed. But pretty much the entire island was gathering for an important historic event that we, too, wanted to see; and we didn’t know how much the crowds would affect how long it took to get there, or whether all the good viewing spots would be taken if we didn’t arrive early.

We made our way to the shores of Kahanamoku Lagoon. We found a spot on the rocky seawall. And we waited for the arrival of the Hokulea.

 The Hokulea is a traditional Hawaiian canoe - the first authentically traditional canoe built in 600 years. It was built by the Polynesian Voyaging Society to prove that ancient Hawaiians and Polynesians were expert navigators, capable of navigating across the vast ocean in ways modern scholars thought impossible. 

Scholars had assumed that the first Polynesians to arrive in Hawaii came there by accident - that they drifted there. Finding those islands in the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean would be like finding a needle in a haystack. There’s no way ancient people, without GPS, without even a compass, would be able to navigate there on purpose.

The crew of the Hokulea wanted to prove otherwise.

On the day I saw Hokulea arrive in Hawaii, it was returning from a 3-year, around-the-world voyage. It was navigated using only traditional methods. No GPS. No compass. They navigated by reading the stars - holding out their arm, measuring the stars… just like Moana. 

That’s impressive. Almost as impressive as the dung beetles. I can point out many constellations and even the names of some of the stars, but to use the stars to navigate at that level of accuracy, that level of precision - that’s some real skill.

As the Hokulea sailed into the harbor, some people to my left were weeping with joy. Off to my right, a person who I later learned was Hina Wong-Kalu - a Hawaiian cultural icon - sang traditional chants while dressed in traditional Polynesian attire. It truly was a sacred moment.

Because, for generations, the art of Hawaiian navigation over the ocean had been forgotten. The Hawaiians literally forgot that they were voyagers; expert navigators across the sea. Just like in Moana.

But now, they remembered.

So, both dung beetles and the ancient Hawaiians navigated by reading the stars. What about the magi? How did they find their way to Jesus?

Scripture says that they, too, followed a star. First, it says that they observed the messiah’s star, rising in the east. Scripture also says that they came from the east. But if they came from the east, doesn’t that mean they traveled west to find Jesus?

I don’t know about you, but I’m already starting to feel disoriented by this story.

But scripture doesn’t really say they followed the star; they just saw it rise. It wasn’t giving them directions; it was letting them know that the messiah had been born, and that they should go find this messiah.

Which is why they went to Jerusalem instead of Bethlehem. Because Jerusalem is the city of power, of grandeur, of glory. There, they found Herod, and asked him about this new messiah, this new king that had been born.

Well! Could you imagine going to the king of England - even in this modern year of 2023 - and asking where the new king is? It really is hard to imagine. I’m not sure what these magi were thinking. Herod put people to death for far, far less.

But Herod was shrewd. He decided not to execute these magi - not yet, anyway. Herod didn’t know how to read the stars as the magi did, so he sent them to find this new king, and then return to him, so that he also could go and honor him.

Yeah, right.

So the magi left, and the star that they had seen rise in the east now led them south from Jerusalem to Bethlehem; the star went ahead of them, and stopped over the place where they would find the child messiah.

And this is the kind of story that makes me wonder: “OK, but what really happened? How much of this is historical, and how much of it is parable? Because stars don’t act like that!

And I don’t really know.

But I do know that these magi went on a journey, and that, somehow, they were guided by God. Just like Abraham and Sarah, when they went on their journey to a new land. Just like the people of Israel, who were led by Moses through the wilderness to the Promised Land. Just like the apostle Paul and the many voyages he went on, spreading the gospel.

And just like God’s people throughout scripture, really; scripture can be thought of as a collection of stories of people, all of whom are on a journey of faith.

I first heard that phrase - journey of faith, or faith journey - in college. I thought it described how people learn as they grow up and become adults, and eventually figure everything out.

Now I realize that we never do figure everything out. The journey is never-ending. I’ve done a lot of figuring out during my life, and that has taught me that no matter how far I’ve come on my faith journey, there is still - and always will be - more yet to come.

And I think that’s what it means to be a progressive Christian.

I used to shy away from that term - progressive. It seemed too political. It was sometimes used in a derogatory way. And it can be divisive.

But what progressive really means is that faith is evolving. Growing. It means that the journey continues. It means we haven’t yet arrived, but that we are always arriving.

And every day, it seems, I learn something new. Sometimes, new knowledge and insights come to me from surprising places - dung beetles, for example! 

There’s a quote, attributed to Thomas Merton, that goes: “If the you of five years ago doesn’t consider the you of today a heretic, you are not growing spiritually.” I don’t think Thomas Merton actually said or wrote that, but still, it’s a good quote. “If the you of five years ago doesn't consider the you of today a heretic, you are not growing spiritually.”

That’s a quote that points to the journey we are on. It’s a journey of growth. It’s a journey of faith. It’s a journey of doubt. It’s a journey on which we are not afraid to ask deep questions. 

And that is what it means to be progressive. We never stop asking questions. We never stop thinking. We never stop progressing; moving forward.

Jews - including Jesus - were guided by the Torah on their faith journey. The Torah refers to the first five books of the Old Testament. The Torah includes the stories of Abraham and Sarah and Hagar; Isaac and Rebecca; Jacob and Rachel and Leah; and Jacob’s sons. The Torah includes the stories of Moses. And, the Torah includes all the laws given by God to God’s people as they made their way to the Promised Land.

In that same article I mentioned earlier, Peter Marty points out that what the word Torah actually means is “the way.” This meaning is echoed in the sayings of Jesus, who described himself as “the way,” and also by Jesus’s followers, who called themselves followers of the way.

This makes Jesus sound a lot like the Mandalorian. “This is the way.” But Jesus came first.

And when we call ourselves followers of the way, it implies that we are still on some sort of journey. We are still on our way.

And, we still seek God’s guidance as we journey on the way.

Two days ago - January 6 - was Epiphany, sometimes called Three Kings Day. And for the fourth year in a row, we are giving out stars on the Sunday closest to Epiphany - stars with words on them - as a reminder to follow God as we journey through life. Every star has a different word, and every year you get a new star. The hope is that the word on your star will, in some way, help guide you on your faith journey in the coming year.

Maybe your star is a reminder to give thanks for how God guides you. Maybe your star is encouraging you to focus more on whatever word appears on it. I’m not telling you how your star or your word should guide you. That’s for you to figure out.

But if you ever have trouble praying, maybe the word on your star is a good word to focus on as you pray.

And if you’re not sure where your faith journey is leading you - if, on some days you aren’t sure what to believe anymore, or you aren’t even sure that you believe anymore - maybe the word on your star can help.

If your heart is filled with fear, or anxiety, or doubt - perhaps your star can help with that.

How you use your star is up to you. But I do hope it helps guide you in some way, as you journey through the coming year.