Epiphanies

Gentile da Fabriano, Adoration of the Magi, 1423

           On January 11, 1985, I had an epiphany.  My Uncle Jerry had died unexpectedly that morning, and I was feeling sad, angry and confused.  Sitting alone in my room, I had a sudden and profound realization that I had to choose:  I could believe, as I had been taught, that Jesus Christ suffered and died for us so that we could have eternal life with God; or I could live in disbelief.  I knew that there was no middle ground; it was either or.  If I chose to believe, then Uncle Jerry now lived in the peace of Christ, and I would see him again.  If I chose not to believe, he was gone forever.  I chose to believe.  On January 11, 1985, I had an epiphany, just like the magi did in today’s Gospel.  

      

          Today we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord.  The word epiphany comes from the Greek word epiphaneia (ἐπιφάνεια), which means appearing, manifestation or glorious display.  So on the Feast of the Epiphany we celebrate “the manifestation of Jesus as Messiah of Israel, Son of God and Savior of the world.”[1]  On this Feast, the Eastern and Western Churches acknowledge three particular events as epiphanies of Jesus:  His physical manifestation to the gentiles when the magi visit from the East – today’s Gospel; his manifestation as the second person of the Divine Trinity at his Baptism by John in the Jordan; and his self-manifestation at the Wedding of Cana.  Of course, every moment of Jesus’ life on earth was a manifestation of his messianic purpose, and he continues to appear to us as Son of God and Savior of the world every day, inviting us to follow him.  The question, then, is:  How do we respond to these epiphanies?

             The Scottish theologian William Barclay proposes three possible responses to an epiphany of Jesus as the Christ.[2]  With your indulgence, I will add a fourth (not that you have a choice).  We’ll start with mine.  One response to an epiphany of Christ is curiosity.  We see this response in the magi who come searching for Jesus asking, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews?”  We also see it in Herod, who assembles the chief priests and scribes to find out where the Christ was to be born and asks the magi to “bring me word” when they find him.  Curiosity is an essential initial response to any epiphany if that epiphany is to have its intended impact.  Without curiosity on our part, the epiphany goes nowhere.  It’s up to us.  So we have to ask ourselves:  Do we question, consider and contemplate the epiphanies in our lives, or do we ignore them or regard them with utter indifference?  Indifference is the response that Professor Barclay identifies in the chief priests and scribes.

           After ascertaining the location of the Messiah’s birth, the chief priests and scribes did nothing.  “It did not make the slightest difference to them.  They were so engrossed in their Temple ritual and legal discussions that they completely disregarded Jesus.  He meant nothing to them.”[3]  They had been told that the Christ had been born.  That’s a pretty big deal.  They determined the place of his birth.  That’s a pretty big accomplishment.  Then, they did nothing.  Pope Benedict comments that “it is remarkable that [Herod’s] Scripture experts do not feel prompted to take any practical steps as a result.”[4]  The response of the chief priests and scribes compels us to ask ourselves:  How often are we indifferent to the manifestations of Christ in our lives?  Are we so caught up in our own affairs that Jesus means nothing to us?

          Professor Barclay next identifies hatred and hostility as possible responses to an epiphany of Christ.[5]  We find this response in the words of Scripture that tell us that “[w]hen King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled and all of Jerusalem with him.”  Herod saw the newborn king of the Jews as a threat to his own sovereignty, so he responded with hatred and hostility, seeking to have Jesus killed.  The people of Jerusalem saw the news of the birth of the messiah as a disturbance in their daily lives that they met with hatred, hostility and even fear, rejecting Jesus from the outset.  The responses of hatred and hostility are particularly evident today as Christians are martyred for the faith or dismissed out-of-hand for asserting beliefs that are founded in Christ’s teachings.  The fact is that “God disturbs our comfortable day-to-day experience.”[6]  Epiphanies do just that.  So we have to ask ourselves:  Will we respond to God’s disturbing epiphanies with hatred and hostility, or will we respond as the magi did?

           The most fitting response to an epiphany of Christ in our lives is adoration.  “[W]hen we become aware of the love of God in Jesus Christ, we, too, should be lost in wonder, love and praise,”[7] just as the magi were.  In the original Greek, “[t]he wise men do a proskynesis before the royal child, that is to say, they throw themselves onto the ground before him.”[8]  You didn’t know you’d be fluent in Biblical Greek after this homily, did you?  Proskynesis (προσκύνησις) is the only homage worthy of a divine king.  So again we have to ask ourselves: When we experience epiphanies of Christ in our lives, do our hearts throb and overflow as Isaiah tells us they will in our first reading?  When we acknowledge the gift of eternal life in Christ, do we accept the stewardship of God’s grace and use our gifts in the service of the Gospel, as Saint Paul did in our second reading?  When we find the Son of God lying in the manger or reposing in the Tabernacle, do we come and adore him?  Do we respond to the epiphanies in our lives like the chief priests and scribes, like Herod or like the magi? 

          I’ve been blessed with many epiphanies of Christ in my life, but I can’t say that I responded like the magi did every time.  Certain epiphanies stand out as particularly profound and transformative, though.  I’ve found Christ manifest in the order and beauty of the cosmos on a crisp, star-studded night in the Catskills.  I’ve felt Christ truly present in the Eucharist as I’ve elevated the chalice at Mass.  I’ve seen the passion of Christ played out in the sunken eyes of a beggar woman in Bangalore India.  I suspect that I might have disregarded all of these epiphanies, or maybe even greeted them with hostility, if it hadn’t been for the epiphany I experienced some thirty years ago.  On January 11, 1985, I chose to believe that Jesus is the Messiah of Israel, the Son of God and the Savior of the world, and my life has been all the happier for it.

Readings:  Isaiah 60: 1-6; Psalm 72; Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6; Matthew 2: 1-12

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[1] Catechism of the Catholic Church 528.

[2] William Barclay, The Gospel of Matthew, vol. 1 (Louisville, Westminster John Knox Press, 2001) at 34-35.

[3] Id. at 35.

[4] Pope Benedict XVI, Jesus of Nazareth:  The Infancy Narratives (New York, Random House, 2012) at 105.

[5] Barclay at 35.

[6] Pope Benedict XVI at 103.

[7] Barclay at 35.

[8] Pope Benedict XVI at 106.