by Ross Bentley
Today the Church celebrates the Epiphany (‘to be made manifest’) - the revealing, the unveiling. It is a day to see, to witness, to behold Him whom God had revealed - the Child born King of the Jews. The Christ, the Bright Morning Star, Messiah, Savior, God with us.
Matt 2:1-12
The Magi didn’t immediately see the glory of the Lord. They noticed the Star - the astronomical phenomenon. They considered its impact, they researched it, they consulted among themselves, their peers. They made a decision to pursue it and its true meaning.
So they packed, said their goodbyes, and mounted their camels. And they traveled for days (weeks, months?) arduously, enduring cold nights, hard ground, riding soreness, thirst. They likely traveled at night so they could track the star and adjust their path. Finally they arrived in Jerusalem and asked around, leading to a meeting with Herod. Based on the input of his counselors (teachers of the Law and the high priests of all the people!), they were directed toward Bethlehem, and the guidance of the Star led them to a specific house on a specific street, where Messiah was with His mother.
The Magi, upon finally encountering Messiah, finally saw, finally witnessed, finally beheld Him for whom they’d journeyed so far. And this seeing, this revelation, this Epiphany, brought them to their knees to bow down and worship Him - the One born King of the Jews! And thankfully for our sake He was born King of us All! And they poured forth their gifts, holding nothing back, but extravagantly gave what they had amassed to the new King!
So many things could’ve interfered with their Epiphany, the final revelation, the fulfillment. They could’ve gotten distracted, lost interest, inserted their own agendas, or just plain refused. And what about everyone else? Were the Magi the only ones to see the Star? Was it not revealed to others? What about the local wise elders? Did they miss the whole thing? And did the neighbors not see the glorious light in the sky that led these Magi to their neighbor’s house?
Epiphany is for all, though not all will see. Few will actually stop and behold. Few truly see what Father has in store for us. Few will behold His Glory, ‘the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.’ (John 1:14b NIV)
May we take time to notice, to pause, to ponder, to pursue and to behold. And may it shake our lives into a right response, lavishly giving ourselves completely to Him.
For Additional Reflection:
From Common Prayer (Claiborne)
Fifth-century monk and bishop Paulinus of Nola wrote, “We have no right to our possessions; they have been entrusted to us for the good of all. Let us then invest with the Lord what he has given us, for we have nothing that does not come from him: we are dependent upon him for our very existence. And we ourselves particularly, who have a special and a greater debt, since God not only created us but purchased us as well; what can we regard as our own when we do not possess even ourselves?”
The Journey of the Magi - TS Eliot
“A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.”
And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory,
Lying down in the melting snow.
There were times we regretted
The summer palaces on slopes, the terraces,
And the silken girls bringing sherbet.
Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches,
With the voices singing in our ears, saying
That this was all folly.
Then at dawn we came down to a temperate valley,
Wet, below the snow line, smelling of vegetation;
With a running stream and a water-mill beating the darkness,
And three trees on the low sky,
And an old white horse galloped away in the meadow.
Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel,
Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver,
And feet kicking the empty wine-skins.
But there was no information, and so we continued
And arrived at evening, not a moment too soon
Finding the place; it was (you may say) satisfactory.
All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.