Epiphany is not a word that we hear every day. Most of us don’t have it in our active vocabulary. Nevertheless, it’s important for us to know. It literally means to “shine forth” or “appear.” That which has been hidden or concealed has come into the light, there for us to see, to discover, to behold.
The Epiphany of the Lord is a special time in the church calendar. The birth of Jesus Christ, which we celebrate on Christmas, is itself a great appearing, the turning point in human history. But just as important is that we human beings discover who this child is.
Through the season after Christmas, we have the privilege of deepening our knowledge of Christ through the various “epiphanies” given in the Scriptures and the liturgy.
Epiphany always begins on the “twelfth day of Christmas,” on January 6. But we have transferred it to the nearest Sunday, which is today.
The day features the wise men from the East, also known as the Magi. They are on a pilgrimage. It began when they saw a star. By whatever means, which remains forever shrouded in mystery, they correctly determined the star to be a portent, a sign in the heavens that something important on earth was taking place.
About the Magi we don’t know very much, at least at this stage, except that they look up and see the stars. They are searchers who are sensitive to signs. We can say that the Magi are wise because they look up. They don’t have their faces buried in their screens. They realize that there is more to life than what is immediately in front of them. They believe in a divine reality beyond them, a God who wants to communicate with them—and with us.
Can we say this about ourselves? Can we remember a time, when, moved by a stirring within us, we went off on a spiritual search? Can we remember a time when God summoned us to a place where he revealed himself to us?
Perhaps now God is summoning us. Perhaps now he’s inviting us to go beyond ourselves and what we know to a place where he will reveal more of himself to us. And God wants to do this for us. In this life we only make a beginning in our knowledge of him. But God does want us to know him. We know this, because God shows himself to those who search for him. “When you search for me, you will find me, if you seek me with all your heart,” as God told the exiles through the prophet Jeremiah (29:13)
This also is what we want to note about the Magi. Not only do they see the star, but they follow. The star rises, the light appears, the message comes, but something will happen for them only because they decided to follow.
Again, it is one thing to be moved by a stirring within us. It’s another thing to respond to it, to follow where it leads. But it is hard to follow the star. It is hard to step out of well-worn ruts, which we have been digging for years. We prefer to stay safe in our comfort zones, protected from the obstacles and threats, imagined and real.
But the Magi prepared for their journey, made plans, and gathered their resources. They ventured out in spite of the risks. And this makes them not only wise but courageous.
Where does the star lead them? Not directly to Bethlehem, but to Jerusalem, where they ask about the child who has been born king of the Jews.
Attentive readers note that “king of the Jews” is not a Jewish expression. In Jewish circles, one would refer to the “king of Israel.”
But why would Gentiles be interested in the king of Israel? To the servant about whom Isaiah spoke centuries before, God had said: “It is not enough for you to restore the tribes of Israel; I will also make you a light to the Gentiles, that my salvation may reach to the ends of the earth” (49:6).
And so from the ends of the earth the Magi have come. They have seen the light of his star and follow, the star that has come out of Jacob, the scepter that has risen out of Israel, which the Gentile prophet Balaam prophesied long ago (Numbers 24:17).
Nations shall come to his light, and kings to the brightness of his dawn, as the prophet Isaiah prophesied in our Old Testament lesson today (60:3).
The presence of the Magi speaks to us about the extension of the Gospel to the Gentiles. It foreshadows that the Messiah people will include also the Gentiles. The king of the Jews is the king of all the earth.
It is worth noting that the Gentile title “king of the Jews” does not occur again until Jesus’ crucifixion, when the Gentile Pilot affixes a placard to the cross that reads: “Jesus of Nazareth, the king of the Jews” (Matt. 27:37).
Perhaps Matthew means for us, already here, with the arrival of the first Gentiles, to hear echoes of the cross, a mystery that is intimately connected with Jesus’ kingship.
News that these strangers were looking for a king reaches King Herod, and understandably he is frightened by what he hears. For he is the king, and anyone else who lays claim to the title is a rival and therefore a threat to him.
When a human being comes to power, what is the first thing he asks? Well, the first thing he asks is how he can consolidate and extend his power. But the second is how he can preserve it, even at the expense of his own people.
This is certainly exemplified in King Herod. This king was notorious. He is one of the villains of history. Herod was an accomplice to the Romans in the subjugation of his own people. He consolidated his political power through military force and strategic fortresses throughout the land. He financed lavish building projects through taxes extorted from the poor. He imposed a curfew, abolished public gatherings, and created a secret service. He met all resistance with cruel public punishments and executions, including that of his own wife and two of her brothers.
That is how so many kings exercise power. They act as if the suffering of others is not their concern, that is, if they are not actively inflicting it. The point is to preserve power.
So we can understand Herod’s reaction to the news. But why is all Jerusalem also frightened?
The simple answer is that they know Herod. The birth of a supposed or actual Messiah king would bring trial and tribulation to Jerusalem. That in fact is what we see later in this chapter, where we read about the massacre of the innocents.
But perhaps Matthew also means for us, already here, to see how the news about Jesus in Jerusalem, points ahead to Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, on the eve of his crucifixion, where Matthew tells us that the whole city was “quaking” (Matt. 21:10).
What, from the perspective of faith, is the star of hope, from the perspective of daily life is a source of disturbance and fear. It is true: when God breaks into the mundane, he disturbs and upsets it. How can it be otherwise?
In his anxiety, King Herod calls together all the chief priests and scribes of the people to determine where the Messiah was to be born.
“In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: ‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.'” (Matt. 2:5-6).
The Magi are searchers, as we have already noted. But their wisdom brings them only as far as the royal palace in Jerusalem. They cannot reach their destination until they hear the words of the prophet.
So also in our searching. We have our insights, our intuitions. But they bring us only so far. They must be clarified and corrected by the Scriptures. By means of the Scriptures, God has chosen to reveal himself, his will and his ways to us. In all our searching, the Scriptures guide us also to Christ, just as they did the Magi before us. “In Christ are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Col. 2:3).
The Magi are to find the baby in Bethlehem. Bethlehem is the birthplace of King David, to whom God promised a descendant to sit on his throne forever and ever. Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promise to David. Jesus is the Messiah, descended from his line, as Matthew shows in the preceding chapter. Jesus is the Christ.
To confirm this, Matthew adds the phrase “of Judea,” to establish the connection between Bethlehem and the land of Judah. The mention of Judah recalls the blessings of Jacob on his sons, the eponymous heads of the tribes of Israel. In Genesis 49:10, the patriarch prophesies concerning his son Judah:
“The scepter shall not depart from Judah nor the ruler’s staff from between his feet, until he comes to whom it belongs, and to him shall be the obedience of the peoples” (Gen. 49:10).
Bethlehem, an insignificant city in itself, is reminded by the prophet that she is not least in Judah.
Did not David himself have to come to this realization? The youngest of Jesse’s sons, busy looking after the sheep, overlooked by his father, is anointed as king by the prophet Samuel. It is not the outward appearance or height of stature that counts but the heart (1 Sam. 16:7).
This is paradigmatic of God’s way of acting, seen throughout the Old Testament. Greatness comes from what in the world’s eyes is small and insignificant, while greatness in the world’s eyes collapses and falls.
One of the verses from the Magnificat of Mary sums this up: “He has put down the mighty from their thrones, and has exalted the lowly” (Luke 1:52). The manger manifests the way God works in our world.
To Jesus belongs the throne of his father David. But Jesus is a king who is radically different. He will use power, not to preserve himself, but to serve the good of others, even at the expense of himself. He is the good shepherd, who lays down his life for his sheep (John 10:11).
It’s the Magi who seek out this different kind of king. After they heard Herod’s request to let him know when they have found the child, they resume their journey, following the star, until it stopped over the place where the child was.
And when they found the place over which the star came to rest, they found that the stirrings within them prompted them to look up and go off on their search also came to rest.
The overwhelming joy of the Magi stands in contrast to the anxious distress of King Herod and the people of Jerusalem.
Their joy overflows in adoration and worship and the giving of gifts—gold, frankincense and myrrh.
Gold and incense are also mentioned in Is 60:6 as gifts of homage that the Gentiles will place before the God of Israel.
When we come to an appreciation of the genuine worth, of the precious value, of the beauty and majesty of the king of the Jews, as did the Magi, then our hearts grow and expand in joy. It grows into a joy to which we too want to give expression. It is a joy that overflows in adoration and worship and the giving of gifts.
Bible students for centuries have pondered the meaning, the symbolic significance, of the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.
Gold is a symbol of royalty. When the Queen of Sheba came to visit King Solomon, she brought him a gift of 120 talents of gold. A talent was equivalent to 75 pounds, so the queen brought to Solomon 9000 pounds of gold (1 Kings 10).
Frankincense is the priestly gift. It was placed before the ark of the covenant (Exodus 30). It was mixed with the grain offerings of the people and offered by the priests on the altar (Leviticus 2). It symbolizes prayer, worship, and devotion.
During this time of year, we hear of New Year’s resolutions. We need to be resolute in who receives our devotion and reverence. Some people are more interested in burning incense before their stock portfolios than before the babe in the manger (Mark A. Villano). Let us remember that what we reverence claims our allegiance. What we contemplate determines our life goals.
And finally, there is the precious ointment myrrh. One of the uses of myrrh in those times was the anointing of a body for burial. In John’s gospel, we read that Nicodemus brought a mixture of aloes and myrrh, about a hundred pounds weight, for the preparation of Jesus’ body for burial (John 19:38-42).
Perhaps Matthew means for us to see here too that Jesus’ birth is tied to his death. The gift of myrrh is the prophetic recognition of a king who lays down his life in self-sacrificial service to love of God and neighbor.
Having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, who only wanted to know where the child was to harm him, the Magi went back to their own country by another way.
Let us too, when we leave this celebration, continue on our way, never losing sight of the star that guided them to Christ. For we do well to pay attention to him, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in our hearts.
And let us always avail ourselves of the spiritual sustenance for this journey in the precious gifts of Christ’s body and blood, which we will be sharing in a few moments.
It is still night, and dawn may still be far away, but as long as we continue on the way, we will be able to see the light in the distance, a glimmer of hope. Amen.