Epiphany

Magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, asking: “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” Matthew 2, 1-12

The word “epiphany” comes from the Greek epiphainein and found its way into English from the French word epiphanie. It generally means a revelation or manifestation of something that has been hidden. In the Christian calendar Epiphany marks the celebration of the revelation of Christ to the Gentile (non-Jewish) world. Tradition has it that a band of magi or wise travellers from the east undertook an arduous journey, with the aid of their astrological knowledge and expertise, to find and pay homage to “the new-born king of the Jews”. What they discovered was a revelation to them.

Matthew is the only evangelist to have recorded this story. However, its details have so captured the imagination of poets, story-tellers, graphic artists and ordinary Christians through the ages that many of them have modified and embellished Matthew’s story. Because Matthew specified three gifts, many concluded that the Magi were only three in number. In time, names were invented for them - Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar - and they were listed as kings from India, Persia and Arabia respectively. As late as 1895, Henry van Dyke wrote The Story of the Fourth Wise Man and named him Artaban. In the early part of the last century, W.B. Yeats wrote a poem entitled The Magi (1916) and T.S. Eliot The Journey of the Magi (1927). Upwards of 20 famous artists, including Botticelli, Giotto, Rubens and Velasquez have painted versions of The Adoration of the Magi.

All these artists and writers have experienced their own revelations, epiphanies and moments of insight into the significance of the birth of Jesus as one of us and the impact his birth has had on humankind. Some of these artists have depicted endless streams of people from all nations flocking behind the Magi, drawn by the Light of the world, whose magnetism over centuries has drawn countless people to search for him.

Gold, frankincense and myrrh were not just three costly gifts. The medieval mind knew the meanings of these gifts, but Matthew understood long before they did, for he, too, had read Isaiah (today’s first reading). Gold, of course, is a gift worthy of a king; frankincense is for the worship of a god; and myrrh is an embalming oil. Here was a king, a god and a human being who was to die. In those three images of the wise men and their gifts, we see that the child they came to worship would die for not one tribe, people or nation but for humankind. Jesus said he would draw all people unto himself, and this is the very first scene in Scripture in which we see that happening.

The Magi represent for all of us the wisdom that recognises human life to be a journey taken in search of the One who calls us beyond ourselves into faithful service; the One before whom we are prepared to kneel, and to whom we offer the best of our gifts, flawed and unworthy though they be. What is truly extraordinary about the Magi is that despite their status and wealth, they could kneel with grace and dignity before what to them must have been utter simplicity, vulnerability and poverty. Somehow, they sensed they were in the presence of a child who would become far greater than they could ever imagine.

But the journey of the Magi is essentially about us. Their search mirrors our search for the only one who will satisfy us. We, too, choose paths that take us through stress and discomfort, not across deserts on camels, not knocking on palace doors to get final directions to out of the way places like Bethlehem. But we ask questions, look for guidance and sometimes end up in blind alleys. But we also have moments of epiphany, insight and revelation along the way, and in the most unexpected places and circumstances.

Naomi Levy is a forward-thinking rabbi who established a movement known as Nashuva. - a spiritual outreach service to Jews turned off by traditional Jewish service. There is a statement on her website that reads: “At Nashuva, we believe that prayer leads us to action. It reminds us that we are here to heal a broken world.” Inspired by some of Albert Einstein’s insights into humanity (see below), Levy wrote a delightful book called Einstein and the Rabbi: Searching for the Soul (2017, Flatiron Books). In it she describes an encounter she had with a member of her congregation: “’Pray for me, Rabbi’ is probably the most common request people have made of me over my years in the rabbinate. I am always honoured to pray for people. But, of course, I worry when people ask me to pray for them. Are they asking because they don’t think God will listen to them? Do they think prayer requires a correct formula, and if they don’t know the magical incantation that their cries won’t be heard?

Once, about twenty years ago, I went to visit a man in the hospital. He said: ‘Pray for me, Rabbi. I don’t know how to pray.’ I said: ‘Of course I’ll pray for you. But first, tell me, what is it you want me to say to God?’ He thought for a moment and then began trembling as he spoke: ‘God, I’m yours, I know that. But I belong here with my family. My heart is aching. I’ve never let myself love like this before. Give me time. I pray to you, God, give me time.’

These words flowed from the heart of a man who felt he didn’t know how to pray. When he was done, he sighed deeply, and I could see the worry and tension depart from his face. A calm overtook him, a light, a grace. I witnessed with my own eyes how prayer heals. From that moment on, any time someone asks me to pray for them, I always ask the same question: What do you want me to say to God? And it never fails. People astound themselves with words they didn’t know existed inside them. The soul speaks of its own accord.”

The responses that Rabbi Levy’s question evokes are examples of true epiphanies, revelations of God present in people’s lives. If we care to look into the experiences of our own lives, we will surely be able to identify moments of insight, revelation grace when God’s love touched us in the kindness, sensitivity or compassion of people who have cared about us. The story of the stargazing Magi in today’s gospel-reading prompts us to set our hearts on searching for the ”star” of God’s justice, compassion, sensitivity and kindness, whose light we can share with those around us.

“A human being is a part of the whole, called by us ‘Universe,’ a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest―a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. The striving to free oneself from this delusion is the one issue of true religion. Not to nourish it, but to try to overcome it is the way to reach the attainable measure of peace of mind."―Albert Einstein