Homily - Epiphany, 2004

—Fr. Timothy W. Castor

Today we celebrate the Epiphany of the Lord. The word "Epiphany" means manifestation or revealing; and so this is the occasion when we remember the Revelation of Jesus as the Son of God. To whom was he revealed? To the Gentiles—those who do not belong to the chosen people of Israel. Most of us would fit into this category, but the specific Gentiles in question are the Magi—the wise men, traditionally three in number, who came from the East in response to an omen they had seen in the sky: a strange star which somehow they knew heralded the birth of a great King.

Because the Magi are seeking a King, they naturally present themselves to King Herod, the currently reigning monarch of the land over which the star appeared. And here St. Matthew the evangelist presents us with a very interesting contrast—it is a contrast between faith and unbelief, between humility and pride, between truth and falsehood. It is the contrast between the Gentile Magi and the Jewish King Herod.

Israel is God’s chosen people, holy and beloved. To them he gave his Law, the Covenants, the Prophets. To then he sent his only Son, to be their Messiah. But, as St. John reminds us in his Gospel, "he came to his own people, and his own people did not receive him."

King Herod was a member of this chosen people, yet he lived like a pagan Gentile. He seized the throne of Judea through friendship with imperial Rome and with brute force in 37 BC. He ruled the Jewish people until his death in 4 BC, but it appears that his only interest was the consolidation of his own power—a goal which he pursued with insane jealousy. He treated both his people and his own family with incredible cruelty, savagely murdering anyone, even his wife and children, if he thought they might stand in his way. Caesar Augustus once remarked, "I would rather be Herod’s hog than his son."

All over Palestine and the Middle East Herod built palaces, fortresses, towers, theaters, even whole cities—mostly in service to Rome or to his own lust for power. On one occasion, however, he attempted to win the favor of his people by rebuilding the Temple in Jerusalem, which he did on a scale that was said to be even more glorious than Solomon’s Temple. Yet, for the most part, the Jewish people despised King Herod and, on a number of occasions, sought to overthrow him. But every time they failed. Finally, at the age of 69, he died of a terrible disease, in great agony of mind and body.

It’s easy to understand how a man like this would be filled with fear upon hearing the news of a new King in his territory—and a King with supernatural credentials. Nevertheless, had he truly understood the meaning of Christ’s coming, Herod would have realized that the infant of Bethlehem was no threat to his earthly power. Jesus came, not to build a kingdom of this world, but to establish the reign of God in people’s hearts. This kind of Dominion, had Herod accepted it, would have made him a better King—a more just and righteous monarch—able to lead his people with the power and authority of God, rather than oppression and military force.

But this was not to be. With duplicity and deceit, Herod persuaded the Magi to find the Christ child and to bring the news back to him—not in order for him to worship, but to make it possible for him to destroy this new competitor. The Magi did find the child, but they didn’t go back to Herod. Instead they offered him costly gifts—a sign of their worship and devotion—and returned to their own country by different route. The irony here is rich, and the message is clear: Jesus, the King of the Jews, is rejected by the Jewish King, but he is accepted by representatives of the Gentile nations. This is not to say that Gentiles are inherently better than Jews. After all, St. Matthew himself was a Jew, and he wrote his Gospel for a Jewish audience. His message is simply this: that being a member of a privileged race or a chosen people does not automatically guarantee one’s salvation. It is each individual’s response to God’s call which determines his relationship with the Lord.

The same could be said for us today. Just because you are baptized, just because you call yourself a Catholic and a Christian, does not mean that you are a shoe-in for eternal life. Baptism is important; union with Christ’s Church is important. But by themselves they are not enough. Each day, every day of your life you must seek Jesus, following the signs he has given, offering to him the precious gifts of your own life and your own will. Then he will truly be your king and reign in your heart.

In fear, pride, and jealousy, Herod refused to accept the sweet sovereignty of Jesus Christ. But with love, humility, and generosity, the Magi prostrated themselves in worship before him who is King of heaven and earth. That day, he became their King as well and extended his rule over all the nations. But he forces himself on no one. Today, he invites you to seek him and to find him—the same invitation he has given to thousands throughout the centuries.

Once upon a time, in the woods near a small village in Europe, there lived a lonely old woman. Some said she was a witch. One day, three strange men rode up to her hut wile she was sweeping the doorway. She had never seen such outlandish costumes—colorful robes with gold thread, turbans on their heads. Their features were strangely foreign, but she couldn’t identify the country they hailed from. And the beasts they were riding? Camels! Camels draped in the same exotic cloths, bells jingling on their halters, their backs laden down with gear for a long journey. The old woman watched dumbfounded as the camels knelt down in front of her house and their strange riders alighted. "We have come from a far country," one of the men told her, "can you give us some water?" The woman was lost for words, so she quickly fetched water for the men and their camels. After they were refreshed, they continued their story: "Do you see that star in the East?" Dusk was falling, and, in the darkening eastern sky, the old woman saw a star she had never seen before, shining with extraordinary brightness. "That star," the men continued, "is the omen of a new king. We believe he is just a baby now, but he is destined to rule his people—indeed, the whole world—with truth, justice, and peace. We do not know where the star will lead us, but we will follow the sign until we find the child king, and then present to him our gifts. … You have been kind to us, old woman, we would like you to come with us on our journey." The woman was flattered, but, looking around, she realized she had not finished her housework. "I would love to come," she said, "but look at my house... it’s a mess! I must clean the house and then I must pack my things for such a long journey and prepare food for the way." The men shook their heads and replied, "we have all that you’ll need for the journey and the housework can wait. We are leaving at first light in the morning; be ready to leave with us." The woman ignored their advice, and stayed up to clean her house, pack her clothes, and prepare provisions. Finally she collapsed from exhaustion. When she woke up late the next morning, the men had gone! She searched frantically for them, running down the road to the East. But they were nowhere to be found. When night fell, she could no longer see the bright star. The woman was distraught. She had lost her opportunity. And so she determined in her heart that she would spend the rest of her life searching for the child king. In Russia, her name is Baboushka; in Italy she is called La Befana. And it is said that, to this day, on the eve of January 6, she goes from house to house leaving candy and gifts for the children, hoping that one day she will find among them the king whom the camel-riders had announced to her.

This is only a legend, of course, a children’s fable. But, what an important lesson it contains for all of us. Follow Christ now while you have the opportunity. Seek the Lord while he may be found. Our advantages far outweigh those of the Magi—they had only a star to follow, we have the bright Sun of righteousness to guide us. Don’t squander this opportunity to offer the gift of your life to Christ—let him become the king and center of your heart.

© 2004, The Rev. Timothy W. Castor