January 2, 2022: Feast of the Epiphany Isaiah 60:1-6 Psalm 72:1-2, 7-8, 10-11, 12-13 Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6 Matthew 2:1-12 Am I Avoiding Epiphany? A reflection by Jeff Vomund In the summer of 2005, I recall standing in a crush of humanity trying to make sure I didn’t lose any of the high school students in my charge at World Youth Day in Cologne, Germany. We were walking through that city’s grand, double-spired Cathedral, when to my astonishment, I saw a gold sarcophagus that claimed to hold the remains of Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar, the three wise men purported to visit the infant Jesus in today’s gospel. Matthew’s account of the visit, however, neither names these magi nor tells of their number. That specificity did not arise until almost 200 years later when the Gospel of Thomas reports that these men met with Thomas the Apostle after Pentecost. According to this gnostic gospel, Thomas baptized them in ancient Persia (near the current border between Syria and Turkey), after which they preached the gospel and were martyred within 24 hours.
From this report of their baptism and death, we lose track of our magi again for another 150 plus years when, in 326 CE, Helena, the Emperor Constantine’s mother, (and fervent Christian) allegedly found their burial site and brought their remains, as well as scores of other relics from their ancestral home to Constantinople; however, the remains remained there only a short time until they were moved to Milan around 344. They rested in that city until the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick I moved them to Cologne in 1164. In 1225, the relics were place in the gold sarcophagus which I saw 780 years later among the roughly 1,000,000 people (all of whom seemed to be in the cathedral at that exact moment) who visited Cologne for World Youth Day.
It is ironic how much energy Christians have spent on the “historical” details of one of the least historical narratives in the gospels. Most scholars agree that the visit of the Magi is a theological (as opposed to historical) narrative and as such meant to convey a theological (as opposed to historical) truth. Put simply, the truth which Matthew is attempting to convey is that Jesus is the savior of all the world, not just of one small, Middle Eastern tribe. This truth is made manifest, or better, this epiphany occurs through the recognition of the foreign magi who recognize Jesus as a universal savior. In Matthew’s narrative, God manifests the Messiah to all the world through these Gentile travelers. In the meticulously constructed scene, the infant Jesus is recognized as king and Messiah in the gold and frankincense, with the myrrh acknowledging the death that would accomplish these feats. It is difficult to overstate the significance of this scene in the gospel, as Matthew depicts Jesus not as a political Messiah meant to save the Jewish people from a Roman occupation, but rather as a universal Savior meant to bring all people into the Divine family.
Given the care the author of Matthew took to craft it, this scene begs a close reading. God’s Love is manifest through a homeless family, too poor for more respectable lodgings, and recognized by immigrants looking for wisdom and an opportunity to improve their lives. This epiphany occurs in the midst of confusion, poverty, and strangers. The Messiah is revealed not as a political figure who promises military victory, but rather a healer and a unifier whose self-giving will transcend social boundaries. I do not typically think of my experiences of confusion or my poverty as setting the stage for epiphany. Instead, I often treat those conditions as evidence of God’s absence, asking God to take them away and alleviate the unsettledness of my life. But Matthew’s narrative seems to suggest that the wandering magi would not have recognized the Christ-child had they remained comfortable and secure in their homes. Similarly, the narrative implies that Joseph and Mary may not have been so welcoming of these foreigners had they not been immigrants themselves.
As I reflect, nor do I recall my own moments of self-assurance and confidence as the times when Love truly changed my heart and awakened my conscience. It is easy to attribute my victorious moments to God and to be grateful – although this gratitude presumes that God wanted the same outcome that I did. My gratitude for getting my way is inherently self-congratulatory: “How awesome that my will and God’s are so closely aligned!” To be clear, I am not suggesting that Love is uninvolved in the joys of our lives, but these readings do remind me that Love has grown more noticeably in me when my worldview had been disturbed by disappointment or loss. Love is certainly made manifest in the joy of a wedding banquet, but my love has grown more when my partner and I have had difficult conversations, trying to understand how to love each other better. I would not give up the joy and blessings of my ordination day for anything, and yet, Love broke more powerfully into my heart when I attended a support group for men and women struggling with our vows. It’s not that Love has been absent during the beautiful and joyful moments, just that Love’s presence has been so much more unexpected and so much more powerful when the distance between my hopes and my reality has been greatest. I wonder if that same pattern might be true for you? If, like me, you might spend considerable energy asking that Love get rid of the very situation in which Love can help us grow? The epiphany in which the universality of God’s love is proclaimed and recognized occurs amid harried travel, poverty, marginalization, and danger. If I dismiss those parts of my life or seek to hurry through them, I might miss the gifts that Love makes manifest in their midst. Like our Christian tradition, we risk getting so caught up with the details of what’s happening that we miss the epiphany, patiently waiting, crouching in their midst.
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