Homily for the Feast of the Epiphany 2014
Church of the Resurrection
Cincinnati
(Based on Isaiah 60:1-6; Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6; Matthew 2:1-12)
“Arise! Shine forth! Lift up your eyes! Look around you!”
That’s the way the prophet Isaiah addresses an Israelite people who have just returned from fifty years of exile and captivity in Babylon. They are beginning to re-build their lives and their community. Although they have been liberated they don’t yet fully realize the miracle the Lord has worked for them, or the future in store for them.
Epiphany is all about unveiling and revealing. It’s about darkness being overcome by light, and ignorance dispelled by vision and insight.
Their liberation has already taken place but they don’t recognize its meaning. The God whose essence is to draw all things into unity reveals through the prophet that there is to be a new and radical ingathering. The new Israel is to stand like a beacon on the mountain, drawing all the nations to it. It’s about attracting all peoples to come together to praise the works of Yahweh.
And when we turn to Matthew’s Gospel we hear of the next stage in the fulfillment of that promise.
But in a striking transformation we discover that the nations represented by the Magi are being drawn now, not by a city on the mountain but by a child—a baby, in a backwater village. In Bethlehem, ‘the least of the cities of Juda.’
The light and the attraction are there but the revelation—the epiphany—consists in the vulnerability, the powerlessness of the child. His ‘way’ will not be overpowering. The ingathering will be through attraction, not force or coercion.
And everyone will be included; everyone will be, in the phrase of Paul to the Christians at Ephesus, “heirs and partners” in the Good News.
In the time of Isaiah there were those in the returning remnant who thought that its well-being would come through establishing sharp black-and-white boundaries; declaring who was in and who was out, who would be included and who did not belong.
And who were they going to exclude? The aliens. The strangers. People ‘not like us.’ And the eunuchs, those whom they considered less than human, who had served in the courts of the Babylonian kings.
And so Yahweh reveals through Isaiah that that is not the way: all are invited to share in the life and blessings of the new city.
This year our sleepy old church (and our world) had a small epiphany, didn’t it? We got a surprising wake-up call, in the form of a modest herald named Francis.
He challenged us to turn our attention—to wake up—to the deepest mystery: that God’s promise is offered to all. Without exception.
He sys to gays and lesbians, “Who am I to judge you?” He kisses the feet of convicted criminals in the prison at Rome. He calls us to care for the poor, not only through our charity and good will but as a matter of justice: we are to serve them by challenging the economic and political structures and policies that keep them in their poverty. This is not simply a Mr. Nice-Guy.
And then what will be the focus of his first formal act as teacher? Imagine that you were just elected pope at this time. Or I. What would we choose to focus on?
He calls his first encyclical GaudiiEvangelium The Gospel of Joy. The message of Jesus is first and foremost a message of joy, not of repression. It is one that attracts and speaks to our deepest longings. We Christians should not face the world in a posture of defensiveness or protective fear. The world outside the church is not something to be feared, it is the place where our God invites us to share the good news we have experienced in our lives.
In the middle of the encyclical he uses a phrase that has gone under the radar of the media—because it’s not sexy. It’s not a hot-button issue. He tells us that what we need is a revolution of tenderness. A revolution of tenderness! Tenderness implies vulnerability; it speaks of being open and welcoming and not defensiveness. Being present to the person or reality facing us. The openness of the child.
Just think of the rhetoric that surrounds us every day. There is the snarkiness of talk radio, the self-righteous and caustic sarcasm of the blogosphere. The black-and-white self-righteousness of our political world, our conversation about sports. We have forgotten how to have a civil discussion or disagreement. When was the last time you heard anyone say, “I may be wrong, but . . .” Or “that’s something I hadn’t thought of before; you’ve got a point”? We build walls to shut out anyone who disagrees with us.
The epiphany that is Jesus calls us to open ourselves to the possibility that God may be revealing divine life in people who are different from us.
I have a New Year’s gift for you: a true story. I’ve told it before, but good stories bear repeating. (And I haven’t told it since we became The Church of the Resurrection.)
Riverside Church, on the upper West side of New York, was built by the Rockefellers. It’s a non-denominational community, the place where the wealthy movers-and-shakers go. Every year they hold a Christmas pageant, acted out by the children on the community. They bring in a famous preacher to interpret the story.
One year there was a boy with Downs’ syndrome, 10 or 11 years old. They wanted to include him in the pageant but were afraid he couldn’t remember his lines. So they gave him a part with only one line, the innkeeper. You know his line: “There is no room in the inn!” He recited it over and over for weeks. On the night of the celebration Mary and Joseph came up the middle aisle to the boy, standing right where I am. They asked to stay at the place. And he nailed his line: “There is no room in the inn!”
Joseph and Mary turned and looked at each other with sad eyes and turned to go back down the aisle. They took a few steps and suddenly the boy cried out “No! Wait! You can stay at my house!”
You can stay at my house! He was totally present to their situation.
A revelation—a revolution—of tenderness, indeed. When the preacher got up to speak he said, “After what we have just experienced no words are necessary” and he sat down.
The Magi have returned to their country. The Christmas season is just about over. But our God will not stop revealing and gathering us. The Lord will come to us in this new year, and most probably in the form of persons and events we hadn’t anticipated; ways we might be inclined to shut out. Let’s pray that when it happens we will be present.
Amen?