A homily for The Epiphany of the Lord, January 7, 2024
Is 60:1-6, Eph 3:2-3a, 5-6, Mt 2:1-12
In laypeople’s terms, an epiphany is a revelation or a realization, one that sometimes confounds or dumbfounds someone.
At other times, the epiphany provides reassurance or utter joy.
An epiphany is the light bulb going off over somebody’s head, or the forehead smack — duh! — of somebody who’s caught unawares, or the out-of-nowhere guffaws when that one particular friend finally “gets” the ice cream joke.
An epiphany is a confirmation through observation that something we suspected to be true really and truly is.
In our everyday lives, epiphanies and today’s feast of the Epiphany of the Lord have deep meanings and evoke vivid memories.
For devout believers in some cultures, especially people in Latino/Hispanic cultures, Día de Los Reyes or Los Reyes Magos — Three Kings Day or the Day of the Magi — is the grand celebration of the Nativity. The Epiphany on today’s calendar and in our churches and on our streets celebrates the acknowledgment by outsiders that the baby born in a stable would save the world’s people from their sins and defeat death on their behalf.
That the star in the East was no fluke.
That the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh were appropriate even if they seemed odd at the time.
That Herod had no place sitting on a throne.
That this feast of Epiphany should be celebrated annually, perpetually, and that just as the wise men brought gifts to Jesus, they — and Jesus — continue to bring gifts to all people of goodwill. People who love and believe and share with the innocence of children.
Epiphany creates traditions and memories for individuals, for families, for all of humankind.
This grandest of all epiphanies challenges us to be gift-givers, especially the gifts of time and presence.
It also challenges us to be open to epiphanies of all sizes in our lives.
The Feast of Epiphany puts a bow on the Church’s Christmas season, which ends officially with Monday’s celebration of the Baptism of the Lord. Down come the trees. Away goes the crèche.
In most neighborhoods, Epiphany also ties off the secular Christmas season. Lights and lawn inflatables are unplugged and boxed up for another 10 (or is it eight?) months. Genius computer programmers start working on next year’s LED displays. JCP&L stock prices dip a point or two as electricity bills go back to normal.
And families reflect on any given year’s season in relation with all other years’. What was revealed? What did Santa and the Wise Men (who may or may not have been three in number; all we know for sure is they brought three gifts) give us this year?
What, and whom, have we lost during this wintry season?
Epiphanies, with and without the capital E.
Such as the huge one in my life.
You see — and please forgive the downer ending to this — Epiphany 2015 marked the beginning of the end of my father’s life.
As a dedicated volunteer crew and I were de-decorating the church that Sunday, Dad hurt himself by falling out of bed. After extensive tests at the hospital, it became clear he was riddled with cancer. He went to his heavenly reward about a month later.
My family’s memories — and epiphanies — from that experience are a jumbled mess of not knowing then how sick he was (as a doctor, he was a bad patient but a superb keeper of medical secrets), of wondering if we had spent enough time with him, if we had loved him enough, and if we had learned all we could have from him.
Sometimes, the realizations we call epiphanies are that we don’t, can’t and never will know the answers. All we can do is hope and pray that the answer to at least some of those questions is yes.
But the one revelation we can be sure of, the epiphany of the Feast of the Epiphany, is that all humankind, every sister and brother, Dad among them, who ever was or ever will be, anywhere on Earth, is saved because Jesus Emmanuel took on flesh and dwelt among us. That the baby in the manger grew into the man who died for our sins and rose again after conquering death. That the Christ prepared a place for us in his Father’s house.
Thank God the Nativity happened. Thank God those viziers were wise enough and brave enough to follow the star and recognize God-With-Us.
May the God who gave them wisdom and courage give us wisdom and courage to follow the Star of Bethlehem, Jesus.
