Thank you for bringing us into thy perfect light, O Christ. Amen.
For most Christians in the United States, Epiphany isn’t quite an afterthought because it’s not always even a thought. Epiphany always falls on January 6th, after the conclusion of the Twelve Days of Christmas. The Sunday after the Epiphany is typically the day on which we remember the Baptism of Jesus, and so Epiphany maybe gets a brief mention during the Christmas pageant when the magi from Matthew show up in what is, otherwise, Luke’s story about the birth of Jesus. But Epiphany itself rarely gets to stand on its own.
This has not always been the case. For one, the Eastern Orthodox traditions, to this day, place more emphasis on Epiphany than they do Christmas. And this was the case for the first several centuries of the Church as well. And in those days, Epiphany wasn’t even what we think of it as today. For us, Epiphany is about the visitation of the magi from the east coming to visit the holy family in Bethlehem. But in the early Church, Epiphany’s central story was the Baptism of Jesus, not the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
When Epiphany does receive any attention today, it generally gets things backwards. Based on the narrative of the magi, a lot of people think in terms of making the journey to find God in their world. Given that Epiphany falls in early January, a lot of preachers use this as an occasion to commend some resolutions in the new year that mimic the journey of the magi. We are told that we should start the habit of daily Scripture reading, or meditation, or more regular church attendance. To be sure, those are all good things. But they’re going in the wrong direction. Christianity is not our pursuit of God, it’s the story of God’s pursuit of us.
Another way that the story we heard from Matthew applied is to think about the gifts for an analogy of what we are to give; what we can offer to God? Maybe it’s more money to charity, more intentional prayer before meals, or perhaps more time volunteering at Rowan Helping Ministries. And, again, these are holy things. But it’s backwards. If the Epiphany is read as a story about what we are supposed to do for God, then we’ve missed its more radical and fundamental point.
And this is where having the Baptism of Jesus as essential to understanding Epiphany helps in correcting the direction of Epiphany. Afterall, the word “Epiphany” means “revelation” or “manifestation.” It’s why the star features so prominently in tonight’s imagery. The star alerts us to the fact that something has already happened. The magi going to Bethlehem does not change the fact that the Messiah has been born there already. No, what happens upon their visitation is that they brought into the story; the light of the star now shines on them. This is what Baptism signifies as well – that we are brought into the gracious and glorious story of God’s saving love.
The Baptism of Jesus, which, again, used to be viewed as the central story of Epiphany, is a story about how Jesus was immersed into the fullness of humanity so that we would be immersed into the story of redemption and renewal. Epiphany is not a story about what we need to do in order to journey closer to God or what gifts we need to offer. No, Epiphany is the proclamation that God has come to us in Christ and offered us the gift of belonging.
We’re so used to the Christian story, that we feel entitled to it. We’ve been taught that it is our belief that makes us a Christian; that we get to choose, or not, to believe. But, for the most part, the rest of our beliefs are things that we don’t actually choose, and we are absolutely fine with just going along for the ride. For example, I like spicy food. Like, really spicy food. That isn’t a decision I made one day; I just like it. Other people really like cilantro, some think it tastes like soap. It’s a genetic variation, not a choice that anyone makes. Some people really like scary movies, others can’t stand them. But no one talks about the day they decided to read about cinematography and chose to like horror instead of romantic comedies. Even political affiliation is strongly tied to family of origin and lived experiences; we all have an innate sense of what justice looks like and how the world should be run.
But, for some reason, when it comes to spirituality, we’ve convinced ourselves that we’re in the driver’s seat and evaluate everything as a blank slate. So, when we come to faith, it’s our decision, we think. It’s one of the serious flaws with traditions that do not baptize infants – it causes serious confusion about whose idea our belonging is. As Will Willimon is fond of saying, “Our being a follower of Jesus was his idea long before it was ours.” Epiphany reminds us of this fact – that Jesus comes to us and tells us “Follow me.” No one came to Jesus and said, “Hey, can I join you?” When we are Baptized, we are plunged into his story, not that we treat him like a salad dressing that tops the life we’ve already assembled for ourselves.
And, in particular, we forget that we are outsiders to this story. The fact that we are allowed to be Christians is a massive historical concession, and it took the Holy Spirit convincing a lot of people along the way. Jesus was the Jewish Messiah for the people of Israel. The fact that we, Gentiles, are allowed to participate in and inherit the promises of the Jewish people is an act of pure grace. Again, we think that we make a decision to let God into our lives – some people even speak about faith in those terms. They talk about accepting Jesus into our hearts and lives. But that’s preposterously backwards. We don’t choose to let Jesus in because he’s chosen to let us into his story. We are outsiders who have been made insiders by grace. It’s why, in John, Jesus says “I am the door.” Jesus brings us into his story.
This is what we heard in Ephesians – “In former generations this mystery [of God’s grace for] was not made known to humankind, as it has now been revealed to his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit.” In other words, our inclusion into the story of salvation is an Epiphany. It’s always been true that we belong to God, but this truth had not been made manifest in history. In Jesus Christ, this mystery was made known. Because when Jesus said, “Come to me all you who are weary,” he really meant all. When Jesus said, “God so loved the world,” he meant all of it. When Jesus stretched out his arms of love on the hard wood of the cross, he was showing us how expansive the embrace of God is.
Ephesians continues, “That is, the Gentiles have become fellow heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise of Christ Jesus through the gospel.” We are not Jewish, at least not in the sense that we belong to the people of Israel. Sure, some of us might have Jewish ancestors. I do – a quarter of my family tree is ethnically Jewish. But it is St. Paul puts it in chapter 11 of Romans, we have been grafted into the vine of the promise of Israel. We have been brought into the story of being God’s people. Another way of putting all of this is to say that Epiphany, both in its focus of including the magi outsiders and being brought into the faith through the gift of Baptism, is about making us a people who belong to God’s story.
And what does it mean to be a storied people? Well, first it means that we are included in the story that God began in Creation, we are a part of the call to Abraham and Sarah to be a holy people, we are among those who have been liberated from slavery through the waters of the Red Sea, we are included in Jesus’ beckoning to “come and follow me.”
Ultimately, Epiphany is about the grace of belonging. This belonging is a gift. We are brought into the story of God not because we’ve won a lottery, not because our application has been reviewed and found worthy, not because our thoughts and actions have merited being promoted into redemption. No, we are grafted into the story of God’s love because we are God’s beloved. God chose us, not the other way around. The Gospel isn’t about earning or deserving. So no matter what rejections the world has for us, regardless of how out of place we feel in society, we belong in the love of God. The Church, if we are being faithful to message of the Gospel, has room for all and welcomes all, because everyone is included in the story of grace. That glorious light that Isaiah spoke about, it shines on upon us all.
To be included in this story means at least two things – we work on becoming a part of this story and we work to include others, both of which do take some effort. Think of joining an organization – one of the first things that you do is to learn the culture and the history of the place so that you can find your role. I remember when I was at freshman orientation at Wake Forest, we attended a presentation about the history of the university and were told about its core values. And the point was clear – we are now a part of that legacy. The same thing happened when I pledged a fraternity, I had to learn about our history as I was initiated into it. When I became the Rector of St. Luke’s, I read the history book and had to learn the stories of Salisbury, of this Parish, and of your lives. When we are made a part of something, we work to grow in our belonging, just as the newly grafted part of the plant grows into bearing fruit of its own. And this is where Scripture, prayer, and theological formation really do have a place. We do not do these things as burdens or requirement, but to go deeper into our belonging.
In this story of which we are part, we all have a role to play. God’s story is about healing, and so we need some healers. It’s a story of reconciliation, so we need reconcilers. God has things to teach us, and we, therefore, need teachers. The Gospel is a story of abundant generosity, and so we need givers. It’s a story of inclusion, and so we need includers, people who notice the injustice of exclusion.
This is a part of our belonging – our Baptism, our inclusion into the story isn’t a status. It’s not like being a platinum member of an airline rewards program where you get a perk or two, but otherwise just have a status that means nothing. No, the Gospel makes us a part of the crew – we have a role to play getting us from here to there.
To paraphrase St. Augustine, “Without God, we cannot; without us, God will not.” Why God chooses to work with such fickle and flawed creatures like us, I really don’t understand. But who am I to challenge the ways and wisdom of God? The point is that our belonging makes our lives holy. Life is not something to endure or get through, but rather we are given a life worth living because we belong to the eternal story of love.
And the other side of this coin of belonging is that we also work to make room for others and include them. This, as we know, is hard work. It means that we have to think not just about our preferences, but the good of the whole. Belonging to a story that is bigger than us takes humility and deference. Christianity isn’t a “have it your way” sort of religion. As much as our culture is built around customization, spirituality doesn’t work that way. This is actually quite liberating because it means that we don’t have to make our own meaning, we receive it. But that’s the previous point.
In terms of making space for others to belong, following Jesus means that none of us has all the answers. It means that if our solution excludes someone, then it’s not the right solution. It means that we have to ask tough questions like, “How am I privileging and prioritizing myself and people like me over others? Who is excluded by my actions?” Because inclusion isn’t saying “If you can get with our program, you can belong.” The Gospel isn’t only about welcoming people into the story, it’s about helping them find their role, even if it’s not the role we’d choose for them.
One of the questions that Epiphany would have us to ask is how do we use our position and power to grant and deny access to God? Jesus is the door, not us. God doesn’t need any gatekeepers. What we need more of are ambassadors who tell others that they belong to this story of love and help them to find a seat at the table and a place in the kitchen.
On the Feast of the Epiphany, we celebrate that, through Jesus, we belong to the glorious and gracious story of love. As the prophet Isaiah put it, “Arise, shine; for our light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon us.”
