Manifestations – an Epiphany Homily
Holy Spirit, Southsea
6th January, 2004
Readings:
Isaiah 60:1-6
Ephesians 3:1-12
Matthew 2:1-12
The twelfth day of Christmas is the day when things move on, and they move on fast. While the rest of the world has removed the decorations, and the main concerns are getting rid of the extra calories, feeling guilty about the speed with which New Year resolutions have been broken, and struggling back to work, huddles of Christians form all over the place to take another look at the Christmas crib as we do now. This time, however, more figures have arrived, and it will soon be time to say goodbye even to them, so that we can watch Jesus grow rapidly into adulthood: a kind of forced pace which the Church Year requires, if, that is, we’re not going to miss the bus that will take us from the Christmas Cycle (Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Candlemas) towards the Easter Cycle (Lent, Holy Week, Easter, Ascension , Pentecost).
Epiphany alerts us to more than a new-born baby. Epiphany means ‘manifestation’, ‘showing forth’ – which means placing the emphasis not on what we do, but on what God does. God shows forth his human face in Jesus. This particular human being (and it had to be someone, which means other options, including who was to be the mother, had to be foreclosed) is set to show, and to be, and to do God’s ways in a manner not seen before. But the trouble is that it can be rather hard to take in: isn’t it all a bit overwhelming, and it comes round every year, and what difference does it really make to me? Part of our difficulty is that the gloss gets in the way of just how ordinary it is intended to be. Foreign visitors, who arrived from Southern Arabia, if not from further afield, probably on the well-trodden incense trade-route, bring their goodies – nothing special for them, a bit like a traveling salesman digging into a bag for his wares. A young couple, who look just like any other, are probably a bit indifferent to the scene; gold is wealth, incense is a perfume to make musty, dirty places smell pleasant, and myrrh is for healing hurts – all useful gifts to put away for use in later years.
Nothing very spectacular. And that’s the point: Epiphany is about bringing home to us that the miracle of the incarnation, God becoming flesh with us, starts life by being ordinary – and only later on does it dawn on us that God’s way of being ordinary has lasting, eternal effects. It is so easy to get the wrong end of the stick with the Kingdom of God. Yes, God is infinite, but he is just as infinite in the great and impressive things as he is in the small and unimpressive things. His infinite greatness is also infinitely small – in the baby, yes, but, because that baby ‘shows forth’ God’s joyful humility, it is an infinite smallness, because it takes seriously our lives. Do not fool yourselves into thinking that Epiphany is about anything more or less than you and me, here and now, this evening, on a cold winter’s night, surrounded by indifference, and a world that has lost its way.
‘Great is the Lord and greatly to be praised. Little is the Lord and greatly to be loved.’ So preached St Bernard of Clairvaux, centuries ago. That leaves us with the simple truth that we are able to go – yet again – to Bethlehem, and not only adore with the magi, but receive as well, receive the infinitely small gifts of the bread and wine of the eucharist, unimpressive and apparently lifeless, but full of the wonder of the joyfully humble God.
+ Kenneth Portsmouth
