Epiphany, 2012
This is a wonderful story which we never tire of hearing:
Following the magnificent star, astrologers (magi, kings) from a faraway land
travel many miles in search of the new-born King of the Jews. They humbly present the child with gifts
worthy of a king—gold frankincense and myrrh.
But there is a dark side to the story. Herod, the insecure and jealous tyrant, hears
the news of the wise men and sees this child as a threat to his power and
rule. He tries to dupe the strangers in
order to find the child and then kill him.
When the astrologers deceive Herod
and depart by another route, Herod flies into a rage. As the evangelist Matthew tells it, Herod
orders the massacre of every boy under the age of two in the region of
What kind of a demented tyrant could be so threatened by a
child? But Herod has much to fear from
Jesus…. And so do we…
Perhaps “fear” is not the
right word… apprehension?
This child born of poverty in a backwater village comes to
tear down the paper mansions of the rich and powerful and, in their place, he
will exalt the lasting things of God.
The newborn Messiah, recognized by illiterate shepherds and
mystical strangers, but rejected by his own people, comes to destroy forever
the walls we have erected to divide classes and tribes, Jews and Gentiles, men
and women, young and old, believers and nonbelievers.
The future rabbi, a carpenter’s son, comes to establish a
church, not made of brick and mortar, but founded on the Spirit of God and
built of human hearts. Herod could not
have dreamed what this child he so feared would accomplish—even two millennia
later.
Have you ever heard someone say of little children: “Aw,
they’re so cute. Why do they have to
grow up?” Some might say that of Jesus
too. The cuddly infant did not lie the
manger for long. He went forth to do his
Father’s work. And that threatens the
Herod in all of us, the part of us that doesn’t want the boat to be rocked.
When the magi returned to their homeland and the star set
in the heavens, the real gospel story was just beginning. The child Jesus became the adult Messiah, the
beautiful story of his birth became the unsettling story of humble servanthood,
unconditional love and forgiveness, turning the other cheek, unlimited
compassion.
The Epiphany of Christ invites us to travel with him in the
liturgical year ahead to witness his healings and wonders, to listen with open
hearts to the words of compassion and forgiveness he preaches, and to enter
into the mystery of his passion, death and resurrection until our own rebirth in the dwelling place of
God.
I have often wondered: What do you suppose happened to
those wise men after they left
We too have come here in search of a king, and we have
found him. We too have brought a gift,
the gift of our lives. We too must leave
here changed. As the new wording of the
dismissal at the end of Mass commands us: we must go in peace, glorifying the
Lord by our lives.
Paul, in today’s letter to the Ephesians, says that he is a
steward of God’s grace, that the mystery was revealed to him. By our baptism we are also stewards of that
grace; the mystery has been revealed to
us as well. May the Body and Blood we
share today make us worthy stewards
of that grace which Paul felt so keenly, and may the way we live our lives
point as brightly to the King of Kings as did that star 2000 years ago.