Homily for Solemnity of Epiphany

Homily for the
Solemnity of the Epiphany

Jan. 4, 2004

Is 60: 1-6
Epiphany, Tampa
Nativity, Brandon, Fla.

“Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem!  Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you” (Is 60: 1).

The New Jerusalem, after Dore'

by Laura Sotka

Several generations of historians, up to and including when most of us were in school, were accustomed to speak of the early Middle Ages as “the Dark Ages.”  The splendor of Greco-Roman civilization—its learning, its law, its commerce, the Pax Romana—were swamped in a wild tide of invasions from the east and north; barbarian darkness settled over most of Europe, from the 5th to the 12th centuries.  Extensive parts of the old Roman Empire were repaganized.  Schools, libraries, and monasteries were destroyed.  Travel and trade virtually ceased.  Lawlessness was everywhere.  Warfare was constant.

Even before Thomas Cahill in 1995 published How the Irish Saved Civilization, we realized that a picture of universal darkness for 8 centuries was an oversimplification.  It’s no simplification, however, to say that humanity dwelt in spiritual darkness until our Savior was made known to us.

In the gospel for the solemnity of the Epiphany, the Magi sought out Christ, “the newborn king of the Jews,” to pay homage to him (Matt 2:2) and offer him precious gifts.  We note in passing that the Magi were learned men (wise men) of the pagan world, perhaps astrologers, as one translation puts it, perhaps wizards like King Arthur’s Merlin or Tolkien’s Gandalf, perhaps priests of some pagan deity.  They definitely weren’t kings, and St. Matthew gives no indication at all as to their number.

The Magi bring gifts for the God-man, signaling that all the world—not just the Jews—is to find in this child its Savior.  Yet the child is the real gift-giver to the world, to Jew and Gentile alike.

This child, Jesus, born in Bethlehem of Judah, brings us the gift of light.  The whole world lay shrouded in darkness; thick clouds covered the peoples (cf. Is 60:2).  Sin, despair, violence, and death were our masters.  But Jesus has brought us forgiveness, hope, peace, and life.  He is the light of the world, leading us on the path to everlasting light.  All nations shall walk in the light of Israel’s shepherd (cf. Is 60:3, Matt 2:6).

The Magi saw a star rise and followed it.  That star, that remarkable light, was the heavenly portent announcing that the real Dark Ages were over.  At the beginning of his gospel, St. John declares, “The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world,” and in Jesus Christ we saw God’s own glory, the light shining in our darkness (John 1:9,14,5), the light driving out the darkness of evil.

As regards the so-called Dark Ages of medieval Europe, Thomas Cahill’s premise is that the Irish saved civilization because Christian monks and nuns preserved the ancient learning, as well as the Faith, and as missionaries spread both Faith and learning thruout Western Europe between the 5th and 10th centuries.  Thru them Christ became the light of the world morally, spiritually, and culturally.  The new learning of the Renaissance, moreover, was largely Church-sponsored:  the universities grew out of the monastery schools and were run by the Church; friars like the Dominican St. Albert the Great at Cologne and Paris, and the Franciscan Roger Bacon at Oxford, were renowned scientists; the artists and poets were deeply religious people like Blessed Fra Angelico, Dante, and Giotto; medieval cathedrals such as those at Chartres and Cologne were simultaneously works of both profound devotion and the highest art; the most famous scholars were also saints like Anselm of Canterbury, Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventure, and Duns Scotus.  What Isaiah spoke to Jerusalem hundreds of years before Christ we may apply to a society permeated by the influence of Christ:  “Nations shall walk by your light, and kings by your shining radiance” (60:3).

Today, Epiphany, the Son of God is revealed to the world.  “He shall govern [God’s] people with justice and [God’s] afflicted ones with judgment.  Justice shall flower in his days, and profound peace” (Ps 72:2,7).  Those who pay homage to him—those who become his subjects—know the justice of God’s grace; they know peace of heart.  They are agents of justice and peace and God’s love, as well as culture, to their families and friends, to their towns and workplaces.  Like the Irish missionaries and the medieval scholars and artists, they still today reflect the light of the divine sun to mankind; in them—in us—Christ continues to overcome the darkness and reveal himself to the world.

I Am the light of the World

(Statue at USCCB Headquarters, Washington)

St. Matthew tells us that the Magi “departed for their country” after they had paid their homage to the child Jesus.  And that’s the end of their story.  Our story, however, can’t end with our homage to Christ the Lord on Sunday—or Saturday nite.  If he is our Lord and Savior, we have to take him home with us, take him to school with us, take him to work with us, take him to market with us, take him on the highways with us, take him wherever we go, whatever we do.  We can’t depart from him, can’t leave him behind—not if his justice and his peace are ever to flower in our time, our society to be permeated by the influence of Christ, “nations walking by our light, and kings,” presidents, and prime ministers “by our shining radiance.”  You and I have to be instruments of his justice and peace and love.  He is the light of the world, but we have to allow his light to shine thru us.  We have to work at forgiving and reconciling, at caring for the needy and the unwanted and the helpless—within our little personal worlds, and within the great world of the human family, as, e.g., the U.S. has just done for the earthquake victims in Iran despite the poor relations between our governments.  We’re all familiar, I suppose, with the hymn “This Little Light of Mine.”  The light is really Christ’s.  Our task is to let his light shine thru us upon the whole world.