Epiphany, January 2, 2022

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What are the Epiphanies in our lives, and how do we respond to them?

Matthew 2:1–12

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.”

When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.

Assembling all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born.

They said to him, “In Bethlehem of Judea, for thus it has been written through the prophet:

‘And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people Israel.’”

Then Herod called the magi secretly and ascertained from them the time of the star’s appearance.

He sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the child. When you have found him, bring me word, that I too may go and do him homage.”

After their audience with the king they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was.

They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.

Music Meditations

  • We Three Kings--King's College Cambridge
  • How Great Thou Art
  • Holy, Holy, Holy

Opening Prayer

Help me to discern what star to follow in my life; help me to discern what I want for myself, my family, my friends, for the world. May I see the message hidden and sometimes illuminated by the events of my life, so that I can better follow the path to your kingdom

Companions for the Journey

The following is the slightly edited text of a homily given at Mission Santa Clara on Sunday, January 6, 2019, by the late Father Paul Crowley, S.J. (Paul had been, in his career, the Chair of the Department of Theology at Santa Clara University, the Editor of Theological Studies, a former visiting professor in the Religious Studies Department at Stanford, and the director of the two CC@S classes taught at Stanford through the department of Religious Studies, and a good friend to CC@S. Paul died in August 2020).

The Epiphany, or manifestation of God to all peoples, is symbolized by the well-known story of the visit of the Magi to the stable.  The Magi are represented as coming from a far-off land, the ultimate exotic outsiders. See the reflection on the Infancy Narratives for a short introduction to these stories.

Before we close out the Christmas season, we return to the manger. Charming as the story of the Magi may be, it is in fact an odd, even comical, scene. We are back at that same stable, a rustic and dirt poor refuge where the Savior has been born. The shepherds are there, but they were not styled then as the gentle pastoral types we see in manger scenes; they were considered in their own time to be socially marginal yahoos. One commentator compared them to members of a motorcycle gang—threatening and to be avoided. And they were presumably not regular synagogue attendees. Onto this scene, in the boondocks of Bethlehem, arrive these three astrologers, sumptuously clothed, laden with precious gifts. Together with the oxen, donkeys, and the rest, we have a menagerie to entertain the newborn king.

It was “outsiders” not of the Jewish people who first recognized that a “king”—more specific to the Jewish imagination, a Messiah—had been born. These outsiders were in possession of an insight that it would take some time for even Jesus’ own disciples to see and accept. And the people of Jerusalem would persist in perceiving Jesus simply as a country rustic, an irritating rabbi imposter. Yet it was non-Jews who would recognize that in this helpless baby, born in a stable, God had come not to save not some, or even many, but all, without distinction. As Paul reminds us: “the Gentiles”—outsiders—“are co-heirs, members of the same body, and co-partners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel” (Eph 3:5–6).

It is the outsider, and the outsider in us, the Gentile in us, that God summons to the stable, to come inside, to enter into the ambit of God’s love. There is no judgment here, but only inclusion of and co-partnership with the outsider. This serves as a model of what the Church must become. As Pope Francis recently wrote to the US bishops:

The Church…bears in her heart and soul the sacred mission of being a place of encounter and welcome not only for her members but for all humanity. It is part of her identity and mission to work tirelessly for all [and to] contribute to unity between individuals and peoples…without distinction. For “there does not exist among you Jew or Greek, slave or freeman, male or female. All are on in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28).

What a radical view of reality, for any time, but especially for a time like ours, when rather than imagining ourselves as one in our humanity, we have divided ourselves into tribes, parties, and generations: Boomers vs. Millennials, progressives vs. reactionaries, liberal vs. conservative Catholics, straight and gay, citizens or aliens—marking ourselves off from others and building walls between us. This is the age of identity, a preoccupation that arises when the world seems difficult to map and people feel fearful, fragile, or at flung at sea. We turn then, perhaps naturally enough, to what we think we know most intimately—ourselves, our group, and fortify ourselves in an identity essentialism that easily functions as an ideology.

Yet we can delude ourselves by delimiting ourselves within one or even multiple identities. We can paper over the multi-layered complexity of human experience, of our own hidden and interior selves—a complexity that resists sharp demarcation or boundary. And, worse, when we claim identities in a group or tribal way, we can be drawn into impasse, demonization of the other, and dismissal of certain people (the way shepherds were dismissed as ruffians) or writing off whole generations as either too old or too young. The worst outcomes of identity absolutism are truly dreadful, as we have seen on the worldwide political stage and in the tragedies of war and genocide.

There is of course validity to acknowledging our distinctiveness. We may come from a home infused with a culture—be it Italian, Irish, Mexican, Filipino or Vietnamese—where language, food, religion, customs, and family systems are distinctive. This is a good thing. Yet there are some identities, or locales of human experience, such as those of women, of LGBTQ people, and, still, of African-American people, that need to be vigorously asserted within the life of a church that is still exclusionary and inscribes some forms of exclusion in doctrine (namely, the exclusion of women from ordination, and the deficient language about gay sexuality in the Catechism that has led to exclusionary practices). But in seeking an ideal church, we need to keep in mind that in Jesus’ view of the world, there are to be no identities at war with one another, and this must be pressed. Those whom I or we or some might consider to be outsiders are not only to be included, but they are to become co-heirs, co-partners. We are to learn from them and from one another

This is very difficult for us to grasp and accept, because it threatens the boundaries set by any claim to self-certain identity. It is a little bit scary. Yet it lies at the core of God’s revelation in Jesus. To be a Christian is to live in a fundamental openness to the other, even the radically different, for God may be at work there, and that other may indeed see God in a way that we do not, as did the Magi. This possibility that God is present in the “alien” other is the foundation of Pope Francis’s urging that Catholics not build walls, but welcome refugees, for they are among the outsiders, the “Gentiles” of our time. It is also the foundation for an openness to and embrace of those, like the shepherds, whose very presence might unsettle the comfortable.

Jesus’ deepest identity lay not in his Jewishness, gender or politics. It lay in his intimacy with the mystery of God, whom he called Father. This intimacy anchored him and captured his imagination like a star in the vast heavens. It freed him to transcend boundaries and to welcome the outsider. This began at his birth. The great star that hovered over the stable in Bethlehem was awaiting his gaze. That star remains a reminder today that God’s love is offered to all people, inviting all, without exception, into God’s family, and that our deepest “identity” lies in intimacy with God—an intimacy that frees us and finally dissolves the need for any identity. This is the intimacy that the Magi sought, and which they found, alongside the shepherds, in the poverty of the manger. May it be so for us.

Weekly Memorization

Taken from the gospel for today’s session…

For out of you will come a leader who will shepherd my people Israel

Living the Good News

What action can you take in the next week as a response to today’s reading and discussion?

Keep a private journal of your prayer/actions responses this week. Feel free to use the personal reflection questions or the meditations which follow:

Reflection Questions

  • The word “Epiphany” means a new awareness or a new insight. In the ordinary sense, we experience epiphanies whenever we gain a new understanding of a person or of an event that radically changes our attitude or our actions. In the religious sense, it may be a new understanding of who Jesus was and is, or a new understanding of God’s action in my life. It can also be a first step in the process of metanoia (a re-orientation of my heart and will to align with God’s will).
    Have I had any epiphanies in my life?
    How did I feel about the experience?
    Did they effect any changes in me?
  • In what specific ways can I make Jesus manifest in my world?
  • Have I ever embarked on a sort of “journey”, not knowing exactly where I was going, but trusting in my own instincts, my “star”?
    Am I on such a journey now?
    Have I asked God for guidance?
  • The Magi were foreigners—outsiders. They demonstrate that no one is excluded from the Kingdom of God.
    How am I a foreigner in the society I inhabit?
    How are strangers welcomed in my town, my neighborhood, my church, my family?
    What do I do to welcome and include “outsiders”?
  • What gifts of personal time, talent, or treasure have I proffered this year to those who are poor, outcast, with no place to sleep?
  • The following are some reflection questions from “First Impressions” (various years’ reflections on the Epiphany):
    • Where are we looking for Jesus today? Even if we had no other gospel story than this one, we should know where to look: among the newcomers and displaced; among the newborn poor and their families; among those who have no roots and are searching; among those pushed around by an uncaring system of laws and decrees.
    • Would I describe myself as one of the modern-day magi, a searcher for God?
      How do I go about that search each day?
    • Foreigners were led to the Christ child’s home do him homage. National boundaries and differences dissolve when we respond to God’s invitation to come to Christ. We are always welcome into God’s presence and in gratitude our commitment is to Christian hospitality throughout this year—to welcome visitors as we would welcome Christ
      How do I practice hospitality?
      Have I ever been treated as an outsider?
      Do I treat any people or groups as outsiders?
    • Pope Francis challenges us to follow the star that leads us where Christ lives – among outsiders, those born in stables, living on the streets, fleeing civil strife and pushed around by harsh governments.
      Do we see the poor and outcast by the light of Christ?

Meditations

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions:

Like the Magi, am I a seeker of answers about my relationship with God, or do I have the answers already? The Magi were gift-givers; what do I give of myself to the wider community--my church, my neighbor? The Magi set out because they had a vision, a mission, a star to follow. What is my mission or goal in this life? Do I constantly keep it before me? Some similarities between the journey of the Magi and mine: 1. Life is a journey. Where am I in mine? 2. All journeys have obstacles, including self-made ones. What are some of the obstacles I am encountering or have encountered? How many of those are self-made? 3. All journeys have helpers or circumstances that have aided them. Who or what has helped me along life's journey? 4. All journeys have an end. For the Magi, it was to look in the face of Christ. What do I hope for at the end of my journey?

A Meditation in AugustinianStyle/Relationship:

(taken from Birth: a Guide to Prayer, by Jacqueline Syrup Bergen and Marie Schwan, CSJ)

I place myself among the Magi as they travel from the rich, green valleys of the east, through the desert, and down through Palestine into Jerusalem. I am aware of the mysterious star that leads us. In Jerusalem, I too make inquiries about where to find the newborn King. We follow the star. I am aware of my feelings as we approach the house in Bethlehem. I gaze on the mother and child she holds. I realize this is the one I have been seeking. Quietly, I adore him. I offer him my greatest treasures. I stay with Mary and offer joy, thanks, wonder, and praise. I beg for the grace to know and draw close to Jesus. I pray the Our Father I record in my journal my responses and offerings and speak to God of the graces I have received.

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination:

This meditation written by Rev. Bob Wickizer, uses the story of the three Magi and puts it into our own time. Can you see yourself in any of these events?

An Epiphany

I had been doing some calculations in the sand when like a thunderbolt two of my old friends walked up the road to meet me. They said they heard stories of people beyond the river where wondrous signs foretold big changes - changes that would make the world different forever. So we stood there in the road a long time, three old friends now living in faraway places only to find ourselves called together by events and stories and signs we did not understand. We argued first about what we knew, then we argued about what we didn’t know. What do these things mean we wondered? What should we do? What can we do? Next we began to plan our journey with the same excitement we had when we first encountered each other on a pilgrimage three decades earlier. We knew once again that we had to travel where the heavens directed us. Wandering planets, stars and great comets pointed the way.  What will we find and how will we know when we find it? Surely these signs we have all observed for months must herald a royal occasion. Will it be a wedding, a coronation, a death or a birth, we wondered. Who are the people in this faraway land whose royalty is marked by signs in the heavens? Whatever the occasion we would honor it with gifts suitable for a royal event. We packed and set off in the cold darkness guided only by our reckonings of the path the heavens gave us.  The long journey fueled many doubts and more arguments over campfires. This desert is not safe with wild animals and robbers. Why are we doing this anyway? What brought us all the way out here? Yet each time doubt and fear rose in our bellies like indigestion, one of us would point out that you do not take a journey because you know all the answers. Someone else would note how our path seemed to be set out before us like a long carpet. We all knew just where we had to go. We just weren’t sure why.

Poetic Reflection:

This is a very creative way to look on the journey of the Magi and compare it the journeys of those migrants who must leave what they have always known and must venture, though hardship and pain, to a destination they cannot imagine. Do they wish to return home?

“The Journey Of The Magi”

A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.' And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces, And the silken girls bringing sherbet. Then the camel men cursing and grumbling and running away, and wanting their liquor and women, And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters, And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly And the villages dirty and charging high prices: A hard time we had of it. At the end we preferred to travel all night, Sleeping in snatches, With the voices singing in our ears, saying That this was all folly. Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley, Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation; With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness, And three trees on the low sky, And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow. Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver, And feet kicking the empty wine-skins. But there was no information, and so we continued And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory. All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again, but set down This set down This: were we led all that way for Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death, But had thought they were different; this Birth was Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death. We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, With an alien people clutching their gods. I should be glad of another death.

—T.S. Eliot

Poetic Reflection:

The role of the imagination as an aid for contemplation cannot be overstated. This poem from William Everson, also known as Brother Antoninus, O.P. is a wonderful reflection on a wondrous event, not only in the lives of the Magi, but in our lives as we experience epiphanies of one sort or another:

“The Wise”

Miles across the turbulent kingdoms They came for it, but that was nothing, That was the least.  Drunk with vision, Rain stringing in the ragged beards, When a beast lamed, they caught up another And goaded west. For the time was on them. Once, as it may, in the life of a man, Once, as it was, in the life of mankind, All is corrected.  And their years of pursuit, Raw-eyed reading the wrong texts, Charting the doubtful calculations, Those nights knotted with thought, When dawn held off, and the rooster Rattled the leaves with his blind assertion--- All that, they regarded, under the Sign, No longer as search but as preparation. For when the mark was made, they saw it. Nor stopped to reckon the fallible years, But rejoiced and followed, And are called "wise", who learned that Truth, When sought and at last seen, Is never found.  It is given. And they brought their camels Breakneck into that village, And flung themselves down in the dung and dirt of that place, Then kissed that ground, and the tears Ran on their faces, where the rain had.

Closing Prayer

Be with those, Lord, who are outsiders, strangers, foreigners. Teach me to notice and include those who are marginalized. Help me to see them as someone like myself, needing love, shelter, kindness—all things I take for granted, and have only because of the luck of being born in a certain time and place. I pray for all those who feel isolated because they are ill, those who are sequestered because of Covid, those who feel lost because they cannot speak the language or read very well and have no one to help. Be with them, Lord, and help me to be with them also.