If I could ask the U.S. bishops to do anything at all, my requests would have nothing to do with political matters. I would humbly petition them to put Epiphany back on the fixed date of 6 January, when nearly all other Roman Catholics throughout the world observe it, thus giving us back the 12 Days of Christmas. I would ask them- though this is done regionally (largely in the Western states, I think), not nationally, to restore Ascension Thursday instead of putting it on the Fourth Sunday of Easter.
This year, I guess the magi took the freeway instead of the scenic route to the dwelling in Bethlehem! This reminds me of the words to the song "Run Rudolf Run," written by Johnny Marks and originally made popular by Chuck Berry, but for those of my generation, Bryan Adams' version, which appeared on the very first A Very Special Christmas album, is perhaps best known: "Run, run Rudolph, Santa's got to make it to town/Santa make him hurry, tell him he can take the freeway down/Run, run Rudolph 'cause I'm reelin' like a merry-go-round." Substitute some really quick camels and/or dromedaires for Rudolf and magi for Santa and you can see what I mean.
What struck me this year about Epiphany arises from the Prayer after Communion for Mass during the Day, found in the Roman Missal:
Go before us with heavenly light, O Lord,
always and everywhere,
that we may perceive with clear sight
and revere with true affection
the mystery in which you have willed us to participate.
Through Christ our Lord
In Saint Matthew's account of the Visitation of the Magi, apart from being led to their destination by the star, their encounter seemed quite ordinary: "they saw the child with Mary his mother" (Matthew 2:11). Despite the ordinariness of the inspired author's description of this encounter, he points out that the Magi, nonetheless, "prostrated themselves and did him homage" and then offered their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh (Matthew 2:11).
This pericope (i.e., episode, as it were), is chock full of symbolism and rife for allegory. For example, the gifts are said to be indicative of Jesus' divinity (frankincense), his royal kingship (gold), and, because it was often used on the bodies of the dead, myrrh for his humanity. But the prostration and the gifts, in a word, their homage arose in what might've appeared to many in an ordinary dwelling and directed toward the ordinary child of an ordinary mother.
It seems to me that a message of Epiphany is the importance, perhaps even the necessity, of seeing reality through ordinary appearances. This means engaging reality according to all the factors that constitute it. Therefore, we must learn to see Christ in his many appearances. As Saint Teresa of Calcutta noted, Christ often appears to us in the distressing disguise of the beggar, the dying, the poor down-and-out person, etc. It is only when learn to truly see these events become an encounter, an Epiphany.
Like the magi, we must learn to discern, to follow the star, to heed the dream, to see God in the ordinary circumstances in which we daily live, move, and have our being. Too often we walk around wondering, "Where is God?" Both the simple and the complicated answer to this question is "More often than you think, God is right in front of you." But you must have eyes to truly see.
It is by gaining spiritual sight that you "revere with true affection the mystery in which [God has] willed us to participate." This gets back to the practice of the basic spiritual disciplines: prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. I will point out, as I did yesterday, it is no accident that prayer comes first.
It is genuine prayer that prevents our practice of the discipline from becoming yet another instance of mistaking means for ends. It also bears noting that genuine prayer consists of a lot of silence, a lot of listening. Having ears to hear often results in the development of eyes to see.
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