The Epiphany of the Lord

Is 60:1-6

Ps 72:1-2, 7-8, 10-13

Eph 3:2-3a, 5-6

Mt 2:1-12

One of the challenges to getting through the Christmas season is the amount of sickly sweet imagery that clings to the narrative of Jesus' birth.  These include images of a toddler-sized newborn baby and depictions of Mary in blue and white watered silk encrusted with pearls, rhinestones, and glitter.  Morbidly obese Santas, reindeer, elf cards, and chubby angel creatures are beneath contempt. The images imposed on Jesus' birth are frequently painful and embarrassing. Much too often we hear about "The Magic of Christmas."  Or "Christmas is for Children."  Christmas is not a holiday for children.  It is a holy day for all people of the world.  Christmas is not a David Henning magic show.  It is a holy and sacred season.

It is not a panacea for sorrow.  No one is required to be happy at Christmas.  Too often the sorrowful, the dying, and those who are struggling with the realities of life, are told that if they surrender to the magic of Christmas they will feel better.  Families, friends and neighbors of those grieving another's death oftentimes insist that a large dinner at someone's house will make all cares disappear, or, at the very least, begin what is called closure, a made up word and concept that is at best a pseudo-psychological phantasm. It does not exist. Unfortunately,  Epiphany is not exempt from the gooey sweetness.  

Epiphany derives from the Greek:  epi: forth and pheinein: to show.  Thus Epiphany:  to show forth.  Among the dictionary definitions one finds, "a sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something, . . .a sudden intuitive realization."  An intuitive realization of Jesus as Messiah is the perfect description of this feast.  But, then there is the problem of "the kings."  

The word "kings" does not appear in Matthew's Gospel.  Those who bore the gifts are called magi.  Some translations use wise men.  No matter the translation, they were not monarchs. The word kings came into use only around the sixth century.  Matthew used the plural but did not give a number. There could have been as few as two or many more than three.   Because the gifts were described as gold, frankincense, and myrrh, tradition holds that there were three magi.  Despite the custom of Kasper, Melchior, and Balthazar their names are not included in scripture. In the end, the number of magi, their names, and their kingly or non-kingly status, are all irrelevant distractions.  

However, the magi are important.  They are very important. They are important because  they represent the first Gentiles to worship Jesus.  They were the first Gentiles to recognize Jesus. They were the first Gentiles to experience the sudden realization of that for which the world had waited. Their epiphany was not exclusive then. That epiphany, that revelation, is not exclusive now.  We will hear of more epiphanies in the cycle of readings this liturgical year.  There are many epiphanies scattered throughout our lives, if we are willing to notice them, if we are willing to see them through the eyes of faith. 

The reality of Christmas and Epiphany, the place of the Nativity of Our Lord in the history of salvation, is more easily found in today's Gospel. "When King Herod heard of this he was greatly troubled and all Jerusalem with him."  In private he instructed the magi, "Go and search diligently for the child.  When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage."  This, from an increasingly crazy megalomaniac with a cruel streak!  

Herod's jealousy and the duplicity underlying his conversation with the magi gets closer to the reality of the Nativity of Our Lord than do the lyrics of  "O Little Town of Bethlehem" or "We Three Kings of Orient Are."  We see the first shadow of the cross in Herod's evil desires.  We see the path from Bethlehem to Calvary traced out in Herod's malevolence.

The first reading from Isaiah assured Jerusalem that the glory of the Lord would shine upon her.  We hear echoes of the covenant, of God's promise to His people.  In the context of the prophecy from Isaiah, the reading from Ephesians is consoling because it assures the Gentiles that they--that we--are included in the promise.  We are reminded of that inclusion daily in the words of consecration that you will hear in a few minutes: "This is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins."  

"for you and for many." 

Once we wash away the treacle, once the sloppy sentimentality is discarded, once the word magic is forever disassociated from Christmas, we can begin to understand the Nativity of Jesus.  We can begin to understand the real Christmas story,  a story that did not end when the magi returned home, wherever that might have been.  

Several times a year, as I did here on Christmas morning, I cite a haiku from Dag Hammarskjöld's small journal Markings.  In literary terms it is unsurpassed in how it fulfills the description of haiku as a form that:"expresses much and suggests more in the fewest possible words."  Hammarskjöld captured the entire meaning of Christmas and the entire arc of the New Testament in seventeen syllables.

There is nothing gooey, sticky, sappy, or treacly about it.

There is no magic of Christmas in it. It is not just for children. It does not suggest a celebration of food, booze and consumer insanity.  It has nothing to do with a holiday.  It has everything to do with a holy day.  It defines a holy season that does not end for another week. It is for all people, for all times, in all places. 

"On Christmas Eve Good Friday

was foretold them 

in a trumpet fanfare."

We cannot and we must not

separate the wood of the manger from the wood of the cross.

Neither event was magical. 

____________________________________

Celebrated the 8 AM Mass at St. Mary's Hall on the BC campus.  About two hours before Mass I was saying morning prayer and drinking coffee when the realization hit.  Twenty-two years ago on Epiphany my novice class piled into two cars after lunch for the one hour plus change trip to the retreat house at Gloucester, MA where we would begin the long retreat two or three days later.  A completely life-changing experience.  

A man makes the long retreat, the full 30-day Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, twice in his life in the Society.  Once as a novice and the second time as a tertian, the last step in a man's formation before he is called to final vows.  Though both retreats are conducted in the same manner the experience is vastly different when they are compared.  

The statue of St. Ignatius in the rotunda at Campion Center in Weston, MA.  Shot from the second floor.  The statue is most likely larger than life-sized as Ignatius was apparently short, something that was true of most people in that era.  

A close-up of the book in his hands.  Ad Mariorem Dei Gloriam is the Latin motto of the Society: To the Greater Glory of God.  The shorthand version that we often use is AMDG. 

A photo of a cloister in Slovenia.  It encapsulates my experience of both long retreats made fourteen years apart.  It would take a very long time, many words, and the risk of sounding inarticulate, to describe how.  I will let things rest with the statement that the photo encapsulates the experience.

+Fr. Jack, SJ, MD