Many, many folks – Christians and non-Christians alike – sing “The Twelve Days of Christmas” with gusto, but put away their trees, decorations, and Christmas music on December 26th.
The irony: by definition, Christmas IS a 12-day feast, an appropriately elongated birthday celebration of the Incarnate Word!
Advent – the season of preparation for Christmas – ends on December 24th. Christmas begins on the 25th. And Christmas continues for twelve full days – until today, January 6th, Epiphany.
Which brings us to another irony.
Many, many folks – Christians and non-Christians alike – know the word “epiphany” only in its secular context. An epiphany is a sudden insight, a light-bulb moment, a game-changing realization. “Aha!” equals epiphany.
But the origins of the word and the concept are deeply rooted in the Christmas story – specifically, in the endpoint of the Christmas story: the arrival of the Magi, come from the east to worship the infant Christ, bearing precious gifts – and then heading home with the most precious gift, salvation, as the prize of their journey.
Little is known about the Magi except that they were Gentiles, not Jews – and foreigners, not Holy Land locals.
These important particulars mean that their worship of baby Jesus ushered in a new era of accessibility to the One True God!
The Messiah, born into the Jewish nation as fulfillment of Jewish prophecy, was nonetheless on earth for everyone. The Magi demonstrated this fact, first.
That’s one ultra-significant and holy “aha!”
And there’s a second layer to the “aha!” of the Magi – the intimate connection of individuals to personal Savior.
It’s worth reviewing the story in the words of Matthew’s gospel:
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, magi from the east came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star in the east and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him, and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “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.’ ”
Then Herod secretly called for the magi and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child, and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out, and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen in the east, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
The portion of scripture I’ve highlighted here describes this personal aspect of “epiphany” in such poignant terms that it moves me no matter how many times I re-read it…
Road-weary travelers, in a strange land at the mysterious invitation of a strange (to them) God, recognize that they are at the end of their quest at long last.
Their euphoria – “overwhelmed with joy” – is surpassed only by their reverence – “they knelt and paid Him homage.”
I had an epiphany about Epiphany this year.
Perhaps because the last several months have felt so much like a long, weary journey to me, my new “aha!” about these dedicated travelers feels urgent, immediate.
My epiphany?
That the Magi were not compelled to be blessed.
That they could easily – and with much worldly wisdom in evidence – have demurred when the Spirit invited them to head out into the desert, following a strange star to a distant land.
They were included in God’s plan – but they were not essential to it. Jesus’s purposes could have been fulfilled, without them.
The Magi were invited to Christmas – but they were not drafted to Christmas. They could have said, “no.” And if they had, God’s story would have unfolded perfectly, regardless.
The miracle would have come – nothing can stop the miracle of God’s love! – but they would have missed it.
The Magi were privileged to have been invited. But ultimately, the Magi were radically blessed because they said “yes” – and ONLY because they said “yes.”
I don’t know about you, but sometimes God’s invitations can feel too hard, too heavy.
God’s plans are glorious and cosmic in scope – way bigger than me, way more lavish and extravagant than my resources, way beyond my capacity.
Saying “yes” to them can demand more gumption from me than I can muster up.
At my worst, lowest moments, my reflexive response to God’s call is a muttered, “no, thank you.”
I am invited – not drafted. Included – not compelled. And if I choose, I can miss it.
All of us – all the beloved creations of God walking around on the planet at any given moment – we are ALL invited.
NONE of us are drafted.
And God’s plans will unfold and His purposes be fulfilled, regardless of our response to His invitation.
We can say, “no.”
We often do say, “no.”
And if we do, then we will miss it.
We will miss the risk of leaving what’s familiar, the deprivation of surrendering earthly comforts for mystery-shrouded promises, the cost in time and treasure of pilgrimage.
But we will also miss the “overwhelmed with joy.”
We will miss the kneeling before the King.
We will, in fact, miss the whole point of this earthly journey!
I suppose my epiphany this Epiphany sound a bit self-interested… but I’ll offer it to you, nonetheless:
I don’t want to miss it!
My bet is that, if you think about it, you don’t want to miss it, either!
The Magi demonstrate an unchanging truth: whatever the cost of saying “yes” to God may be, the cost of saying “no” is exponentially higher.
As we exit the Christmas season by way of Epiphany, we head into what the church calendar calls “Ordinary Time”. (That’s a final irony for us to ponder, because the church should know that – with God – there’s no such thing!) My friends, may we resolve to take our cues from the Magi in 2023.
May we surrender whatever is required – comforts, time, alternate agendas – to say “yes” to God’s invitation.
Let’s not miss it! Let’s LIVE it!
