Epiphany
By: Gigi Miller, Deacon-in-training
I often use the words revelation and epiphany interchangeably, as in “after searching through the whole house, I had a revelation (or epiphany) that my glasses were on top of my head.” But as we’ll see, the two words contain subtle differences. Many of you know that I spent the last 10 months in a field placement at St. Peter’s as part of my diaconal formation process. A dear friend, on learning that I’d be returning to St. Andrew’s, said “you’ll be coming back to your spiritual home.” And it’s true. My time at St. Peter’s was full of epiphanies and revelations. I was challenged, nurtured, and discovered wonderful examples of God’s beloved community at work there, but St. Andrew’s and all of you were my guiding light, the North Star leading me home.
Today we celebrate a journey of another kind with folks following a different kind of star. In Matthew’s Gospel, this trip was more mysterious than our cozy hymns and joyful pageant might suggest. Jesus was already born and at home in Bethlehem – no perilous trek from Nazareth here - when some wise people in the East noticed something strange happening in the skies. They weren’t royalty, as Matthew mentions only two kings – King Herod and the king of the Jews, and the Gospel doesn’t tell us how many folks made the trip. It’s safe to say that there were more than three wise ones, as caravans traveled in larger groups for protection, and that women numbered among the assembly.
Scholars believe these travelers may have practiced Zoroastrianism, a precursor of Islam, so they probably lived in what is present-day Iran. They were the Magi – philosophers well read in ancient texts who studied the stars. When they found one that didn’t match any on their astrological charts, these curious folks took a risk and followed it, believing as most ancient people did, that astronomical events were revelations of royal births.
As the star led them westward, the travelers’ decision to meet with Herod, a proxy ruler of the Roman empire, was politically and logistically savvy; they made themselves known to the imperial authorities and asked for directions to the birthplace of this new royal baby. Since Herod was the current king of Judea, the Magi probably thought he already knew about the birth. What these wise ones didn’t realize was that the star they were following was hidden from the elite insiders at Herod’s court. If that little star of Bethlehem shed its light straight down into the holy dwelling as it does on Christmas cards, everyone in Judea would have known that something was going on, including Herod’s henchmen. But, in Matthew’s Gospel, these foreign travelers were the only who could understand the importance of one star among all the others dotting the night sky.
Herod was threatened by this astronomical news, especially after the chief priests and scribes reminded him of the prophecy of a new ruler of Israel born in Bethlehem. Herod had no royal Davidic pedigree like the one with which Matthew opens his Gospel; he was just a low-level Judean administrator installed to do Rome’s authoritarian bidding. And when autocrats are threatened, they tend to make life miserable for the people under their control, which explains why all in Jerusalem were just as frightened as their ruler. This was a revelation of a decidedly dangerous kind.
Herod sent the wise ones to Bethlehem as his quasi-emissaries to find the baby and, in the meantime, he planned his retribution, which thankfully is not included in today’s reading. By this time, the Magi were a little suspicious but continued on their way. The star revealed itself in the backwater town of Bethlehem over Mary and Joseph’s home, and their perseverance was rewarded with a joyful revelation. Even if they couldn’t quite understand it, these strangers knew they were part of something wondrous.
Over the years, the gifts the visitors presented to the newborn have been described as either impractical or foreshadowing Jesus’ ministry. Sure, they didn’t bring extra swaddling clothes or a first-century pacifier. But all new parents need financial support, so Mary and Joseph no doubt welcomed the gold. And frankincense and myrrh are healing herbs. Since maternal health was even more precarious at that time than it is now, these were gifts of survival, a tender revelation of healing for the new family.
After having their suspicions of Herod’s motives confirmed in a dream, the travelers returned home “by another way”, the terrain of their lives changed forever. Their defiance shielded the new baby from Herod’s gruesome retaliation and allowed the little family time to seek asylum in a foreign country to escape imperial violence and oppression. This act of allyship was a revelation of sanctuary.
Revelations are unfolding events that can lead to deep realizations, but epiphanies are profound “Aha!” moments of discovery. And this first Epiphany was extraordinary, when a group of seekers took a chance and followed a light only they could see toward a Divine encounter. But, as Paul reminds us in today’s Epistle, this expansive Epiphany, God’s eternal plan of love, is for all of us, the mystery of Christ living within us and all creation throughout all time.
Our world today seems as dark and perilous as the one through which the Magi traveled. But we can arise, shine, and find God in hidden places – perhaps in the space between breaths, or through the whispers of the waves on the shore. We too can choose the compassionate road and offer refuge to those who, like the holy family, are excluded and afraid – those searching for shelter, healing, identity, connection. Along the way, there will be revelations that provoke and delight us, but this new year promises shared epiphanies of God’s grace. When we follow the Spirit light together, the illuminated path will lead us all back to our spiritual home where, as the psalmist says, “Violence will no more be heard in your land, ruin or destruction within your borders. You will call your walls, Salvation, and all your portals, Praise.”
