Epiphany

 

January 4, 2026

 Matthew 2.1-12

+ Every time I hear the story we heard in our Gospel reading for today, this story of these wise astrologers who traveled a great distance to Bethlehem, I have to say.

 It seems so fantastical, doesn’t it?

 It seems so other-worldly.

 Astrologers.

 Following a star.

 Who would do such a thing?

 It just seems so other-worldly.

 But then, so much of what we experience in scripture often seems other-worldly.

 So, here we are.

 Now, I know it might seem strange that I am talking about all of this today.  

 The Christ child and the Magi?

 It’s the beginning of January, after all.

 Christmas already feels long over.

 Most of us have put away our Christmas decorations.

 Trees came down quickly in the first few days after Christmas, the rest in the days immediately after New Years.

 (New Years seems like a long time ago too)

 Since we’ve been hearing about Christmas for months, we are maybe a little happy to see the Christmas season go away for another year by this time. 

 We’re ready to put those trappings aside and move on.

 The fact is: the Christmas season, for the Church, began on Christmas Eve and ended yesterday, on January 6.

 Tuesday will be the feast of the Epiphany, which we are commemorating today.

 Until Tuesday, it’s still Christmas officially.

 The greens are still up (at least until after the Eucharist today)

 But, I think Epiphany is important for us, and so we’re gonna talk about it today.

 And we’re still gonna Proclaim the Date of Easter, Bless the Chalk, mark the lintel and have 3 Kings Cake.

 So, what is the Epiphany really? 

 Well, the word itself—Epiphany—means “manifestation” or “appearing.”

 In this context, it means the manifestation of God’s Messiah among us. 

 God’s own anointed One, the Christ, God’s very Son, has appeared to us.

 And in the story that we hear this morning, it is the appearing of God not only to the Jews, but to the non-Jews, as well, to the Gentiles, which we find represented in the Magi—those mysterious astrologers from the East. 

 Epiphany is all about the manifestation of God in our midst. 

 All of us.

 Epiphany is a moment of realization. 

 In this feast we realize that God is truly among us—all of us, no matter our race or religion or our understanding of this event.

 Over the last month or so, we, as the Church, have gone through a variety of emotions. 

 Advent was a time of expectation. 

 We were waiting expectantly for God’s Messiah to come to us.

 Christmas was the time of awe. 

 God’s Messiah was among us and there was something good and wonderful about this fact.

 Epiphany, however, gets the rap for being sort of anti-climactic. 

 It is the time in which we settle down into the reality of what has come upon us. 

 We realize what has happened and we accept it and we live into it.

 A bit of the awe is still there. 

 A bit of wonder still lingers.

 In this morning’s Gospel, the Magi  are overcome with joy when they see the star stop over Bethlehem. 

 But, for the most part, despite the joy they felt, we are now moving ahead. 

 There are no more angels singing on high for us. 

 The miraculous star has begun to fade by this point. 

 The Magi  have presented their gifts and are now returning to home to Persia. 

 It is a time in which we feel contentment. 

 We feel comfortable in what has happened. 

 But, in a few weeks, this is all going to change again. 

 We will soon face the harsh reality of Ash Wednesday and Lent. 

 Now, I know it’s hard even to think about such things as we labor through the cold of January.

 As many of you who know; I really despise the month of January. It’s my least favorite month.

 But there is Ash Wednesday—just around the corner. In the middle of next month.

 The joys and beauty of the Christmas season will be replaced by ashes and sackcloth and, ultimately, by the Cross.

 But that’s all in the future. 

 Christmas is still kind of lingering in our thoughts today and, in this moment, we have this warm reality. 

 God’s love has appeared to us.

 God has sent us God’s love in the form of this divine child.  

 And for this moment—before the denial of our bodies in Lent, before the betrayal and torture of Holy Week, before the bloody and violent murder of Good Friday, we have in our midst, this Child.

 We have God’s love appearing to us, dwelling within the most innocent and most beautiful form of humanity possible. 

 It is the Child Jesus we delight in now.

 For now, we are able to look at this Child and see God’s amazing love in our midst.

 For now, in this moment, we are the Magi.

 We are the ones who, seeking God’s promise, have found it.

 We are the ones who, despite everything our rational minds have told us, have decided to follow that star of faith.

 We, like them, have stepped out into the unknown and have searched for what we have longed for.

 We are the ones who have traveled the long journeys of all our lives to come to this moment—to this time and place—and, here, we find Christ—God’s love made human—in our midst.

 We have followed stars and other strange signs, hoping to find some deeper meaning to our lives.

 We have trekked through the wastelands of our life, searching for God.

 But our Epiphany is the realization that God has appeared to us where we are—right here in our own midst.

 And this is what we can take away with us this morning—on this feast of the Epiphany.

 This is the consolation we can take with us as we head through these short, cold, snow-filled days toward Lent.

 No matter where we are—no matter who we are—God is here with us.

 God is with us in all that we do and every place we look.

 So, let us look for God.

 Let us embody God’s love.

 Let us be God’s Presence in this world.

 Let us see and recognize God in one another.

 And whenever we recognize God—that is our unending feast day of Epiphany.