Penelope Bridges
Happy Epiphany! That greeting would probably sound nonsensical to anyone outside of the Christian tradition, and probably to many inside it too. So maybe a definition is in order. An epiphany is a revelation, literally the shining out of a light, a new thing revealed to an individual or to the world. THE Epiphany is the church’s time to celebrate the revealing of Jesus to the world beyond his immediate environment, and especially the world that was not part of Scripture’s chosen people of God.
The church lifts up three stories that represent the Epiphany of Jesus: John’s Gospel tells of his first miracle, turning water into wine at a wedding in Cana of Galilee; all four Gospels describe the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist in the river Jordan; and only Matthew has this beloved story of the wise ones visiting Jesus and offering him the symbolic gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
Like so many of our celebrations around Christmastide, the Epiphany story has acquired all kinds of extra details over the centuries. So, here’s a pop quiz: which of the following statements are Scriptural? Just shout out your answer, True or False.
They were called Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar. False.
They were kings. False. The idea that they were kings comes from a mashing up of lines from Isaiah (60:1-6) about kings coming to the brightness of God’s dawning victory, with camels, gold, and frankincense.
There were three of them. False – no number is mentioned, just the number of gifts.
They were all men. Ambiguous – the original language uses a masculine form of the word magi, but that could include women.
They found Jesus by asking directions from the King of Judea. Yes! Herod was King of Judea, ruling as a corrupt client of the Roman overlords.
They came 12 days after Jesus was born. Nope – could have been any time in the first two years, because Herod goes on to kill all the children aged two or under in Bethlehem – after Joseph has sought asylum for himself and his family in Egypt.
Each of the three gifts has its own symbolism, as we know from the carol We Three Kings.
Gold is the material for royal crowns, and Jesus is the eternal and universal King over all earthly sovereigns.
Frankincense is hardened tree resin and has a distinctive scent. Since the time when the psalms were composed, it has been burned in worship, the smoke carrying the prayers of the faithful to heaven. As the carol says, “incense owns a Deity nigh”. Jesus is Emanuel, God with us.
Myrrh is derived from another kind of tree resin and is incorporated into oils and ointments. It has medicinal qualities and was also used for embalming bodies. So it is a reminder that Jesus is fully human and that he will experience death.
There’s a terrible irony in the way our Gospel story brings together, on the one hand these outsiders, wise ones, who have studied the stars and come to know that someone very special has been born; and on the other hand Herod’s scholars and advisors, the leaders of Jesus’s own people, who have studied Scripture and know enough to send the travelers to Bethlehem, but cannot read the signs to tell them that the Messiah has indeed been born, let alone recognize him as God’s anointed one. As one scholar puts it, they have the truth in their hands – the scrolls of Scripture – but miss the presence of God in their midst. We might ask: when do we make the same mistake?
The wise ones thought, reasonably, that they would find the king of the Jews in the royal palace; but with their misguided inquiry they unwittingly unleashed terror on the people of Judea. Their question frightened (“troubled” is too mild a translation) a powerful and unscrupulous man, with predictably catastrophic consequences. As we look today at the awful death toll in Gaza, particularly of children, we might glimpse a contemporary parallel in the extreme reaction of the Israeli leadership to October’s appalling attack from Hamas. Many innocents have died in every age because powerful people were frightened.
The wise ones came and saw the child; they paid him homage and offered their mysterious gifts. And then they went home by another road, so as not to run into Herod again. But it wasn’t just the itinerary that had changed: the wise ones were changed by their encounter with the holy one of God. They had risked a long journey to find him; they had found a king unlike any other king; they had been overwhelmed with joy; they had offered what they could; and the world was different. And perhaps they had learned something about the corruption of power and the danger of asking questions in the wrong places. TS Eliot expresses the ambivalence of the story at the end of his poem the Journey of the Magi: “We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, with an alien people clutching their gods.”
The wise ones were changed by Jesus, and so are we. Once we have met Jesus, once we have worshiped at his altar, shared his body and blood, offered ourselves and our gifts, we cannot go back to the old dispensation. The world as it stands is no longer enough. We know there is work to be done. The epiphany that we have received motivates us to offer that same epiphany to others. Jesus was revealed to the world through the visit of the wise ones. As the body of Christ, the church gets to reveal Jesus to the world, through the work we do as his followers.
Unfortunately, what the world often sees of the church reveals something quite different from the unconditional love of God that Jesus embodies; with the result that Christianity has a negative reputation in much of our culture. We can carry on being good people and attending church as if that isn’t the case; but unless we are willing to work to change that reputation, this parish will follow the fate of hundreds of other churches, dwindling and dying over the next couple of decades. We cannot just be consumer Christians any more.
“What can I give him, poor as I am?” asks Christina Rossetti in her beautiful hymn, In the Bleak Midwinter. What can I, what can each of us offer to the Christ who loves us and gave himself for us? Surely the least we can offer is to make every effort to rehabilitate the reputation of those who follow Jesus. Here at St. Paul’s we offer a safe space, a center for healing and inspiring worship, a community of supportive friends, a place where each one of us is valued and respected regardless of whom we love, where we live, or what we can afford. We must not keep it to ourselves. The world needs an Epiphany: the community around us needs to know who Jesus actually is and that we take seriously his call to love one another as he has loved us.
This is what the church has traditionally called evangelism: spreading the word of God’s love made known through Jesus. This is the job of every follower of Jesus, and we are intentional about it at St. Paul’s and in this diocese. Our Bishop has created a training program for those who want to learn the skills of Episcopal evangelism, and we already have three parishioners who have been licensed as lay evangelists. They in turn are willing to share what they have learned, and you’ll be hearing about a class during Lent.
Notice that I said Episcopal evangelism. This is not the Jehovah’s Witness practice of knocking on doors and wanting to know if you are saved. This is about inviting our neighbors to something special. This is about sharing our experience of God’s love and grace, in a way that makes others want to experience it too. We aren’t telling people they must be Episcopalian, or even Christian. We are simply sharing our joy, helping to spread the light of God’s love in the world, opening our hearts to the pain of the world and to the love that God has so generously shared with us. “What can I give him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb. If I were a wise man, I would do my part. Yet what I can I give him, give my heart.” Amen.
