Feast of the Epiphany

January 4, 2026

Where are we looking for Jesus today? What is our journey like?

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.

Notes:
[2:1–12] The future rejection of Jesus by Israel and his acceptance by the Gentiles are retrojected into this scene of the narrative.
[2:1] In the days of King Herod: Herod reigned from 37 to 4 B.C. Magi: originally a designation of the Persian priestly caste, the word became used of those who were regarded as having more than human knowledge. Matthew’s magi are astrologers.
[2:2] We saw his star: it was a common ancient belief that a new star appeared at the time of a ruler’s birth. Matthew also draws upon the Old Testament story of Balaam, who had prophesied that “A star shall advance from Jacob” (Nm 24:17), though there the star means not an astral phenomenon but the king himself.
[2:4] Herod’s consultation with the chief priests and scribes has some similarity to a Jewish legend about the child Moses in which the “sacred scribes” warn Pharaoh about the imminent birth of one who will deliver Israel from Egypt and the king makes plans to destroy him.
[2:11] Cf. Ps 72:10, 15; Is 60:6. These Old Testament texts led to the interpretation of the magi as kings.

REFLECTIONS ON THE GOSPEL

Story or history? In looking at this gospel, we may ask is the story of the “wise men” a factual report or is it just that – a story? Primarily, it is a story. A report is concerned with hard facts – the temperature dropped to 10 degrees last night or there were 10 millimetres of rain yesterday. But a story, especially a biblical story, is concerned much more with meaning. In reading any Scripture story, including Gospel stories, we should not be asking, “Did it really happen like that?” Instead, we should be asking, “What does it mean? What is it saying to us?” The truth of the story is in its meaning and not in the related facts.

Epiphany Certainly in this story the facts are extremely vague and not at all sufficient for a newspaper or TV news report. The standard questions a newspaper reporter is expected to be able to answer are: Who? What? Why? When? Where? How? In this story it is difficult to give satisfactory answers to these questions. Although Jesus is still an infant and still in Bethlehem, we do not know how long after his birth, this incident is supposed to have taken place. We are not told because it does not matter; it is not relevant to the meaning of the story.

Magi Who were these “wise men” and where did they come from? In the Greek text they are called magoi (magoi) which is usually rendered in English as “Magi”. Magi were a group or caste of scholars who were associated with the interpretation of dreams, Zoroastrianism, astrology and magic (hence the name ‘Magi’). In later Christian tradition they were called kings (“We three kings of Orient are…”) under the influence of Psalm 72:10 (“May the kings of Sheba and Seba bring gifts!”), Isaiah 49:7 (“Kings shall see and arise; princes, and they shall prostrate themselves”) and Isaiah 60:10 (“Their kings shall minister to you”). We are not told what their names were or how many of them there were. Tradition settled on three, presumably because there were three kinds of gifts. And they were also given names – Caspar, Balthasar, and Melchior. Caspar was represented as black and thus they were understood to represent the whole non-Jewish, Gentile world which came to Christ. We are told, too, that they came “from the east”. This could be Persia, East Syria or Arabia – or indeed any distant place. The Asian theologian, Fr. Aloysius Pieris, points out the significance for Asians that it was wise men from the East and not the local wise men who recognised the light that led to Jesus*.

A star in the East There is talk of following a star. Was there indeed at this time a comet or supernova or some significant conjunction of planets which would be particularly meaningful to these men? Even so, how does one follow a star? Have you ever tried? How do you know when a star is “over the place” you are looking for? You could travel several hundred miles and the star could still be “over” you. Probably, we are wasting our time looking for some significant stellar happening. The star is rather to be seen as a symbol: a light representing Jesus as the Light of the whole world. There really is not much point in trying to pinpoint facts here. We are dealing here with meaning and the meaning is very clear from the general context of Matthew’s Gospel. God, in the person of Jesus, is reaching out to the whole world. More than that, the religious leaders of his own people – the chief priests and experts in the scriptures, although clearly aware of where the Messiah would be born, made no effort whatever to investigate. Yet Bethlehem was “just down the road”, so to speak, from Jerusalem. King Herod, an ambitious and ruthless man (that is a fact of history), was prepared to go but only to wipe out even the remotest threat to his own position. These pagan foreigners, on the other hand, went to great lengths to find the “King of the Jews” and “do him homage”. As part of that homage they offered their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. The gifts seem inspired by Isaiah 60:6 quoted in today’s First Reading, “They shall bring gold and frankincense”. In later tradition, the gold came to symbolise the kingship of Christ, the incense his divine nature, and the myrrh his redemptive suffering and death. They also came to signify virtue, prayer and suffering.

No Outsiders All in all, today’s feast is telling us that for God there are no foreigners, no outsiders. From his point of view, all are equally his beloved children. We all, whatever external physical or cultural differences there may be between us, belong to one single family which has one Father, “our” Father. It means that every one of us is a brother and sister to everyone else. There is no room for discrimination of any kind based on nationality, race, religion, class or occupation. There cannot be a single exception to this position. The facts of today’s story may be vague but the message is loud and clear. We thank God today that there is no “Chosen People” whether they be Jews or Christians (or even Catholics). Let us try to understand more deeply God’s closeness to us which is also a reason for us to be close to each other. There are no outsiders. All are called – be it the Mother of Jesus, the rich and the poor, the privileged and the lonely, the healthy and the sick, the saints and the sinners. Yet, we can become outsiders. We do that every time we make someone else an outsider, whether we do that individually, as a family, a community, or an ethnic grouping. To make even a single other person an outsider, that is, to deny them the love and respect which belongs equally to all, is to make an outsider of oneself. It is to join the ranks of the Pharisees, the chief priests and every other practitioner of bigotry.

Where are the stars? Finally, we might ask ourselves, What are the stars in my life? The wise men saw the star and followed it. The people in Jerusalem did not. How and to what is God calling me at this time? Where does he want me to find him, to serve and follow him? Some have their priorities already fixed and so have stopped or have never even started to look for the real priorities, the God-sent stars in their lives. That is like first making a right turn at a crossroads and then wondering where you should be going. Saint Ignatius Loyola in his Spiritual Exercises speaks of people who get married first and then ask, “What does God want me to do? This very day, let us stop in our tracks. Obviously, at this stage there are many things which, for better or worse, we cannot change, some decisions, right or wrong, which cannot now be undone. But it is not too late to look for our star and begin following it from where we are now. The wise men did not know where the star would lead them. They just followed it until it brought them to Bethlehem – and to Jesus. They never, I am sure, regretted their decision. If we can only have the courage and the trust to follow their example, I doubt if we will have regrets either. If we have not already done so, today is the day to make that start.

“The Epiphany of the Lord” by Jude Siciliano, OP

Isaiah 60:1-6; Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 10-11, 12-13.; Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6; Matthew 2:1-12

Our reading from Isaiah today is especially well suited to the feast of the Epiphany. Itnbegins with a summons addressed to all of us: “Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come.” For people living in darkness—a darkness that shadows so many lives through confusion and misinformation, injustice and inequality, loneliness, isolation, and personal suffering—the prophet’s clarion call holds out hope for light despite the surrounding shadows. Epiphany does not deny these shadows; rather, it proclaims that Christ has entered them. The light was revealed to the Magi and is revealed to us. This light shines amid modern forms of darkness, and believers are called not only to receive that light for themselves but also to reflect true justice, compassion, and faithful witness, so that those living in the shadow of death may find their way toward hope. Isaiah’s vision of nations walking by Jerusalem’s light and being drawn to its radiance finds a concrete fulfillment in the story of the Magi. The wise men represent the Gentile world, guided by a star to Jesus. What Isaiah envisioned symbolically—people streaming toward God’s light—Epiphany reveals both historically and personally. Isaiah anticipates foreigners from Midian and Ephah, “all from Sheba,” coming and bearing “gold and frankincense.” These gifts, later offered by the Magi, indicate that the child is king and worthy of worship, especially through the gift of frankincense. Together, they signal a time when the wealth and homage of the nations will be offered to the Lord—not as political tribute, but as an act of faith and praise. Isaiah presents a God who is not confined to one people, place, or nation. In Christ, the light rises for everyone, and all are invited to walk in it and be guided by it. Alongside the material darkness of the world, there is also spiritual darkness. Many today live without a sense of meaning or purpose, or with only a limited awareness of God’s presence in their lives. They feel distant from God. This is the “thick cloud” Isaiah describes. We possess electricity and powerful forms of artificial light, yet inner darkness—the “thick cloud”—cannot be dispelled simply by flipping a switch. Inner darkness is far more difficult to overcome than external shadows. In the Letter to the Ephesians, Paul reflects on what he calls a “mystery” now revealed by God. In Scripture, a mystery is not a puzzle to be solved, but a divine plan once hidden and now made known. Epiphany, then, is the feast of a mystery unveiled by God. Paul declares that what was “not made known to people in other generations” has now been revealed through the Spirit: the Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel. Epiphany celebrates this radical inclusion as a work of sheer grace—and it also challenges the Church today. If God’s mystery is about breaking down barriers, then any form of exclusion, superiority, or indifference contradicts the very meaning of Epiphany. The light revealed in Christ is meant to gather, not divide; to unite, not rank. On this feast, the Church’s mission—our mission—is to welcome the stranger, honor difference, and witness to a unity rooted not in sameness, but in Christ. Moreover, the Church must be genuinely missionary, not merely maintenance-oriented. Epiphany reminds us that God’s saving action moves outward, like the star that led the Magi beyond familiar borders. The gospel is not meant to be clutched and preserved for insiders. The Church must practice radical hospitality and refuse to mirror the world’s divisions. We are called to witness to Christ in unexpected places. The Magi found Christ in an unexpected place. Likewise, as a Church, we must seek and discover Christ among the marginalized, the forgotten, the wounded, and those living on the edges of society. Today we are assured that the light has already risen and cannot be extinguished. We did not create the light; we already stand within it. Like the star, we point toward it by the lives we lead. Epiphany thus shapes the Church into a people always being sent—bearing light, welcoming the nations, and trusting that God is still drawing the world toward Christ.

Quotable - Sermon for the Epiphany, Pope Leo the Great, 5th Century

“Today the Magi gaze in deep wonder at what they see: heaven on earth, earth in heaven, human in God, God in human— the one whom the whole universe cannot contain is held in a tiny body.”

Justice Bulletin Board by Barbara Molinari Quinby, MPS, Director Office of Human Life, Dignity, and Justice Ministries Holy Name of Jesus Cathedral, Raleigh, NC

Where is the newborn king of the Jews? -Matthew 2:2

Have you ever had an epiphany? A sudden realization? A flash of recognition in which someone or something is seen in a new light? I just realized that epiphanies often begin with a question. On this day when we commemorate the manifestation of Christ to the gentiles in the persons of the three magi, we see that it all began with a question. Look at these other epiphanies. The first is from Cardinal Joseph Bernardin in his book, The Gift of Peace . He found himself wondering how Jesus kept his ministry on track with “all the ‘mess’ of the world that intruded into his life and ministry.” He writes, “Then one day it struck me that when Jesus opened his arms to embrace a little child and when he opened his arms wide on the cross to embrace the whole world, it was one and the same. He came to bring the Father’s healing, saving love to the human family—one person at a time. . . So, the people he encountered were never interruptions. . . they were opportunities to carry out his mission. . . Serving others was at the very core of the meaning of his life and ministry.” Epiphany. St. Catherine of Siena posed a question to her ponderings on the dignity of the human person. She asks, “Why did you so dignify us?” And, in the next sentence, she writes, “With unimaginable love you looked upon your creatures within your very self, and you fell in love with us. . . and give us being just so that we might taste your supreme eternal good.” Epiphany. St. John Paul II repeated his epiphany three times as he pondered Jesus identifying himself with the poor in Mt 25: 31-46. He spoke these words in Mexico (1979), in New York (1979) and in the Philippines (1981), “In the faces of the poor I see the face of Christ. In the life of the poor I see reflected the life of Christ. . . Jesus said that in the final analysis he will identify himself with the disinherited—the sick, the imprisoned, the hungry, the lonely. . . Keep Jesus Christ in your hearts and you will recognize his face in every human being. You will want to help him out in all his needs: the needs of your brothers and sisters.” Epiphany. If you have never had an epiphany in your faith journey, maybe you haven’t asked a question. Ask, see, and act.

Faith Book
Mini-reflections on the Sunday scripture readings designed for persons on the run. “Faith Book” is also brief enough to be posted in the Sunday parish bulletins people take home.

From today’s Gospel reading: “Behold, the star that they had seen a its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was.”

Reflection: Pope Francis challenged 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.

So, we ask ourselves: We have experienced the good news of Christ firsthand at our Epiphany celebration today. So, how will we reflect in our daily lives the light that has shone upon us? Do we see the poor and outcast by the light of Christ?

Commentary on Matthew - Year A by Jude Siciliano, OP, Promoter of Preaching, Southern Dominican Province, USA

We have begun a new liturgical year and that means the sequence of Sunday gospels shifts from Luke and focuses primarily on Matthew. Perhaps an overview of Matthew’s gospel will help the listener interpret the individual texts as we encounter them these upcoming Sundays. There is a stress in Matthew on Jesus’s teaching. Even its structure reveals the centrality of Jesus’ words. The gospel is divided into five sections, each featuring a major discourse by Jesus. (This division into five is reminiscent of the Pentateuch’s five books.) The Sermon on the Mount, chapters 5-7; the missionary instructions, chapter 10; the parables, chapter 13; discipline among the members of the community, chapter 18; the coming of the kingdom, chapters 24-25. Each section is distinctly marked off with the same type of ending, “When Jesus finished this discourse...” (7:28; 11:1; 13;33: 19:1; 26:1). These discourses express the central message of the gospel: Jesus preached the coming of the reign of God to the Jewish people. He was rejected by many, but accepted by others. Those who heard and followed him formed a new Israel, which included the Gentiles, to whom the gospel was subsequently preached. Those who accepted Jesus’ teachings were to act on them–bear “good fruit” (21:43) and if they did, they would enter the kingdom in its fullness when the present age ends and Christ returns. The gospel was written first of all for the Jewish Christian community. Thus, there is a strong fulfillment theme throughout: Jesus fulfilled the promises of the Hebrew scriptures, the Old Testament, through his teachings and life. Thus, one can see why Matthew has his five-fold division, it is a way to stress Jesus’ teachings. While Matthew’s Jesus was not merely a replacement for Moses (5:17), nevertheless, the disciples are called upon to surpass the behavior of those who merely keep the letter of the Law, but not its spirit (5:20). There is a strong anti-Pharisaical polemic in Matthew and we must be careful not to interpret an anti-Jewish message when reading from this gospel. Jesus strongly criticizes the hypocrisy of the religious leadership, but Matthew is writing for the early church and his main concern is that such hypocrisy not be found among its leaders. Because Jewish Christians were expelled from their synagogues, Matthew is also distancing the early church from its roots in Judaism. One perspective on this gospel is to see it as a book of teachings for church leaders to aid them in their instructions in the community. Thus, the emphasis Matthew places on what Jesus taught and the importance of obedience to his teachings. He stresses good deeds as the sign that we have accepted Jesus; our actions will reveal the depth of our faith commitment. This emphasis on doing what Jesus taught suggests that Matthew wrote for a church that had grown weary or complacent in its waiting for the Lord’s return. When Christ does come, this gospel teaches, we will be judged by our deeds. The community must “do” God’s will (7:21) and follow Jesus’ commands (7: 24,26). Just claiming to be a member will not be enough, we must perform the works that show our lives have born good fruit (7:15-23). And there’s the trap for us! With so much emphasis in this gospel on deeds, the we are tempted to moralize, using the Matthew texts as merely presenting an ethical code of behavior. As we follow the lead of the gospel and stress deeds, we may get the impression that all one has to do is accumulate good works and thus earn our reward. We have to balance the strong works-orientation of this gospel with its underlying message of grace. Remember this is a “gospel” and so we are invited first to receive the gift of being God’s children. This new relationship is the source and power for a whole new way of life, exemplified by our actions, which are “light” and “salt” for the world. We can’t be a fruitful disciples on our own, for the call to righteousness that pervades this gospel is beyond mere human effort. Grace is the subtext for all that Matthew’s gospel asks us to do. How else would it be possible to love enemies and forgive “seventy times seven times” (18:22)? What will help in the interpretation of Matthew’s gospel is to use Mark as a reference. Matthew relied heavily on Mark’s gospel, but reshaped the material to suit his purposes. Though he may use a story from Mark, he often adds to it, in order to make sure to communicate Jesus’ teaching for us to know and then act on them. So, we preachers should compare material common to both writers and note how Matthew alters and expands on the details. In making this comparison we would learn what perspective Matthew has on Jesus’ words and actions and the difference his insights should make in our lives.

Important Themes in Matthew

1. The gospel opens with a “genealogy,” thus placing emphasis on where Jesus came from and who he is. We soon learn that Jesus is “God with us” (1:23). This Emmanuel theme characterizes the gospel and the book ends with Jesus’ promise to stay with his church forever (28:20). This infancy gospel narrative talks of the revelation to Joseph (not to Mary), the cosmic revelation of a messiah to the three wise me from afar, the Jewish king Herod’s fear of a messiah, the flight into Egypt.

2. Jesus teaches his summary of the Law—love of God and love of neighbor. In Matthew Jesus stresses that we must be obedient to the Law, as he interprets it, in an intense and totally committed way.

3. In this gospel there is special concern for the community of believers—the church. (E.g. Chapter 18 addresses church life and order.) God has, through Jesus, created a new Israel, but it is open to all. Members must be concerned for “straying sheep” and for the “little ones.” We must protect and welcome these “little ones,” who are without status and power in the community. At the same time, all members are to be like the “little ones,” in renouncing rank and privilege for themselves.

4. Forgiveness must be a hallmark of this church and therefore a sign of God’s mercy to all. Matthew’s community was mixed, consisting first of Jewish and then Gentile Christians. There seems to have been conflict and lapses among the members (Cf. Parable of the weeds and wheat 13: 24-30). So, in this gospel, Jesus calls for fidelity and perseverance as they await his return. The preacher will find this gospel helpful for addressing local and universal issues that continue to split the church.

5. Central to the gospel is the theme of the “kingdom of heaven.” The proclamation of the kingdom unifies the whole gospel. Jesus preaches “the gospel of the kingdom” and we are called to take up the message and preach it to the world. The miracles, performed after the Sermon on the Mount, are his words enfleshed. So, if we believe what Jesus preached, then we too must put his words into act. Early in the gospel we already know Jesus’ identity (2:1-12), the question Matthew puts to us isn’t, “Who is Jesus?” but, “Will you follow him.”

6. The cross and the resurrection. Jesus’ life and mission ended in collapse at the cross. But Matthew shows that Jesus knew what awaited him in Jerusalem. Jesus begins teaching about the cross right after Peter’s confession (16: 21ff). Matthew shows us that the cross must be seen through the lens of the resurrection. Because of their faith in the resurrection, the disciples came together and, empowered by the presence of the risen Lord in their midst (“God with us”), went forth to preach and teach the message of the kingdom they had received from Christ.

PREPARATION FOR THE SESSION

Adapted from Sacred Space: The Prayer Book 2025

Presence of God: Jesus, As I come to you today, fill my heart, my whole being, with the wonder of your sacred presence. Help me to become more aware of your presence in my life, and more receptive to that presence. I desire to love you as you love me. May nothing ever separate me from you. ( 1-2 minutes of silence)

Freedom: Jesus, Grant me the grace to have freedom of spirit. Keep me from being bound by desires and actions that are not good for me or others. Cleanse my heart and soul that I may live joyously in your love. ( 1-2 minutes of silence)

Consciousness: Where am I with God? With others in my life? What am I grateful for? Is there something I am sorry for, words or actions that have hurt others, and which I now regret? I take a moment to ask forgiveness of God and of those whom I have hurt. God, I give you thanks for your constant love and care for me. Keep me always aware of your presence in my life. (2-3 minutes of silence)

OPENING PRAYER

Lord, help us to keep journeying toward your love and forgiveness. Help us to notice and understand the epiphanies we experience along the way, and help us to see that this journey must lead outward as well as inward.

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. 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 coheirs, members of the same body, and copartners 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.

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 which follow:

Reflection 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?

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? What do I do to welcome and include “outsiders”?

Journey: Some similarities between that 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?

Have I ever viewed anyone else as a religious outsider?
Have I ever viewed anyone else as an outsider in my friends, my family, my ethnic group, my country?
What does this tell me about staying in my comfort zone?

What do you think helped the Magi to persevere on this arduous journey?
Do I respect the spiritual journeys of others, even if I do not understand where they are going or why?

From --- Fr. J. Ronald Knott, pgs. 42-43: [In the church], instead of talking people into going on spiritual adventure, we often just led religious tours. We give up the goal of transforming people and settle for conformity. If you think taking a tour of shrines of the Holy Land is the same as walking in the footsteps of Jesus, you’re not on a spiritual adventure, you’re on a package tour. These Magi people were not on a tour. They were on a scary, spiritual adventure–one that took massive amounts of personal courage. ... Too many of us just don’t believe in going places. There is so much about our church that values keeping people in bounds, constraining the adventurous. We often punish the adventurous and reward, protect and coddle the mediocre. Just like the Magi, Jesus left his carpenter shop and went on a spiritual adventure. He went about inviting others to drop what they were doing and follow him without looking back.

What form does my membership in the Catholic Church take?
In what specific ways can I make Jesus manifest in my world?

CLOSING PRAYER

Don’t forget to provide some prayer time at the beginning and at the end of the session (or both), allowing time to offer prayers for anyone you wish to pray for.

Lord help us to trust that at
“..the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time,
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well,
When the tongues of flame are enfolded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one,”
—T.S.Eliot “Little Gidding”, from Four Quartets

FOR THE WEEK AHEAD

Weekly Memorization: Taken from the gospel for today’s session… Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.

Meditations:

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking questions: The visit of the Magi does not show up anywhere in recorded history as a factual report; it is a biblical story full of meaning for us. We should not be asking: “Did it really happen like that?”, but rather: “What does it mean?” What did the story mean to you as a child? What does this story mean to you now? Magi were outsiders, who did not consider themselves special in God’s eyes. Yet it was to them that the reality of Jesus was revealed. Do you know of any outsiders that have had insights or experience about God, or the church? What does that tell us about who God welcomes into the mystery of God’s life and presence?

A Meditation in the Ignatian Style/Imagination: 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. 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. Has there been a time in your life when you wondered where you were headed and why? It is comforting to know that others who have come before us have often felt the same way. Pray the following prayer of Thomas Merton. “My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. Adapted from ”An Epiphany” by Rev. Bob Wicker.

A Meditation in the Dominican Style/Asking Questions: I read Psalm 72, then I reflect on the way power is revered in our society, and, in the main, how that power is used. What are the dangers of power? This psalm is frequently used as a description of the way an ideal ruler must use power. I think of our history and all of the ways in which power has been abused. Has this ever been the story in our own church? In what way am I myself tempted by my desire for power and control? What steps can I take to combat this natural tendency? I pray to Christ for the courage to let him be in control. (from Songs of Life: Psalm Meditations from the Catholic Commmunity at Stanford, by Anne Greenfield)

A Meditation in the Franciscan Style/Action: 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? From “First Impressions” a service of the Southern Dominican Province.

POETIC REFLECTION

Two wonderful poems for this feast day.

The Journey of the Magi by T.S. Eliot

“A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of 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, sore-footed, 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 wineskins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (as you may 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.

The Three Holly Kings Legend by Ranier Maria Rilke
Once long ago when at the desert’s edge
a Lord’s hand spread open –
as if a fruit should deep in summer
proclaim its seed –
there was a miracle: across
vast distances a constellation formed
out of three kings and a star.
Three kings from On-the-Way
and the star Everywhere,
who all pushed on (just think !)
to the right a Rex and the left a Rex
toward a silent stall.
What was there that they didn’t bring
to the stall of Bethlehem!
Each step clanked out ahead of them,
as the one who rode the sable horse
sat plush and velvet-snug.
And the one who walked upon his right
was like some man of gold,
and the one who sauntered on his left
with sling and swing
and jang and jing
from a round silver thing
that hung swaying inside rings,
began to smoke deep blue.
Then the star Everywhere laughed so strangely over them,
and ran ahead and found the stall and said to Mary:
I am bringing here an errantry
made up of many strangers.
Three kings with ancient might
heavy with gold and topaz
and dark, dim, and heathenish, -
but don’t you be afraid.
They have all three at home
twelve daughters, not one son,
so they’ll ask for the use of yours
as sunshine for their heaven’s blue
and comfort for their throne.
Yet don’t straightaway believe: merely
some sparkle-prince and heathen-sheik
is to be your young son’s lot.
Consider: the road is long.
They’ve wandered far, like herdsmen,
and meanwhile their ripe empire falls
into the lap of Lord knows whom.
and while here, warmly like westwind,
the ox snorts into their ear,
they are perhaps already destitute
and headless, for all they know.
So with your smile cast light
on that confusion which they are,
and turn your countenance
toward dawning with your child:
there in blue lines lies
what each one left for you:
Emeralda and Rubinien
and the Valley of Turquoise.