Homily
The Epiphany of the Lord
I have an aunt, my mother’s sister, who always sends Christmas cards with an image of the Magi. Each year I look forward to her card. Some years the image is traditional, some years a little more avant-garde. Her appreciation of the Magi is not unusual. I think we all find these visitors from the east a bit alluring.
It has been that way from the earliest days of Christianity. The religious imaginations of saints and theologians have long expanded the story of the magi to include details we do not find in the gospel. Although Matthew does not tell us how many visitors there were, tradition has long put the number at three, perhaps because there were three gifts offered to the Christ Child. The visitors are not named by the evangelist but again, tradition fills in the details calling them Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar. There are even legends written about a lost wise man. And the Italians have a tradition about the wise men visiting the good witch Befana.While we might find the story of the magi intriguing, the readers of Matthew’s gospel would have found it disturbing. Remember, Matthew was writing for believers who came over to Christianity from Judaism. We will be reading from Matthew all throughout the Ordinary Time of the year. Often we will hear Matthew tell us that what was happening in the life and ministry of Jesus was to fulfill what had been foretold by the prophets of Judah and Israel. Jesus came as savior of his people. But at the beginning of his gospel Matthew prepares the reader for the message he will deliver at the end of the Gospel: Jesus came not for the Jews alone, but to bring salvation to all of God’s children, Jew and Gentile alike. Jesus identity is revealed to the Magi, visitors from the east. They represent all of those who will later see in Jesus salvation, light and peace.
In his moving prophecy, Isaiah sees Jerusalem, after a period of exile and shame, serving as a shining light not only for God’s people returning from captivity. He sees all nations and kings walking by Jerusalem’s light and radiance. And in verses that portend the visit of the Magi to Bethlehem, Isaiah says of Jerusalem: the wealth of nations shall be brought to you. Caravans of camels shall fill you, dromedaries from Midian and Ephah; all from Sheba shall come bearing gold and frankincense, and proclaiming the praises of God. I suspect those words from Isaiah helped to stoke the imagination of Matthew and those who later added to his story of the visitors from the east.
Throughout the Christmas season there is a gradual unfolding, a gradual epiphany, a gradual manifestation of Jesus’ identity: first to the shepherds at his birth when the Word became Flesh; then to the Magi and the whole of the Gentile world. That unfolding will continue next week when we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord and hear Jesus’ identity ratified by the voice of his Father: This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.
Important in this manifestation, this Epiphany, is a recognition that the plan of God for the salvation of his children extends beyond the expected; God’s plan of salvation is greater than our human imagining. God’s love, God’s grace is given to all who would receive it, not because they are so deserving, but because God is so good. It would take Saint Paul, mindful of his own unworthiness as he calls himself the least of the apostles, to formulate the early church’s understanding of this mysterious plan as he wrote to infant churches throughout the Mediterranean world as the Apostle to the Gentiles.
That same mystery, the immensity of God’s love and forgiveness and his plan of salvation, challenges us when we are tempted to determine whom we deem worthy of divine mercy and grace. And it challenges us when we somehow think that our sinfulness is more powerful than God’s forgiveness, or
when we fail to accept with grateful hearts the dignity that is ours as children of God.
So profound is the mystery of the Incarnation that it invites a lifetime of reflection and prayer so we might come to embrace ever more fully its meaning and promise. Perhaps that is why the Church gradually unfolds that mystery for us not with a one day feast but with a season filled with light and promise, song and rejoicing. Like the Magi following the star at its rising, we travel through life with our gaze fixed not on the star, but on the one whose birth the star announced. And in that lifetime of reflection we come to live and to accept, ever so gradually, the embrace of the one who came to shepherd his people Israel and all who would open their hearts to his love.
A friend of mine recently introduced me to the religious poetry of Ann Weems. Her “January Song” expresses our need for prolonged meditation on the mysteries we celebrate with such splendor these days.
There is a rumor on the streets
that Christmas is over.
Lights and ornaments are packed away,
trees dragged to the curb,
people back to business as usual.
We’re no longer in the party mood;
the humbugging is back in vogue.
This is January…
How can Christmas be over?!
The Child is just newborn,
the song of Peace and Goodwill
still rings in our ears.
The shepherds and sages still kneel
to this one who is born to us…
just born to us!
How can Christmas be over?!
The story of the gospel is just beginning.
We who saw the Star
now live in its Light.
We who saw and heard
now believe.
Christmas is not over.
We’re just beginning
to follow this One
who calls us now to
Live in the Light of Love.
Christmas is not over.
It’s just beginning
and this is January’s song!!
