The Catholic Church in the United States observes the Sunday after January 1 as the Solemnity of the Epiphany. (Most of the rest of the world observes it on its traditional date, January 6, which makes it the “Twelfth Day of Christmas.”) It is also sometimes called “Three Kings Day.” Many Latin American Catholics celebrate it as Día de los Tres Reyes Magos.”
Its practical marginalization in Catholic circles in the United States obscures the significance of this feast, which, at one time, rivaled Christmas as the celebration of the Lord’s Incarnation.
Epiphany comes from the Greek epiphania, which means “revelation” or “manifestation.” That’s the core of this celebration: the manifestation of the Son of God in the flesh. That’s why it was—and remains—so important.
We think of Epiphany in terms of the coming of the magi with their gifts to Bethlehem. The Church certainly celebrates that, but in its joy, the Church also gathers together a multiplicity of themes connected with the “revelation” of Jesus and his mission. The Magnificat antiphon for Epiphany Evening Prayer I captures them:
Three wonders mark this day we celebrate: today the star led the Magi to the manger; today water was changed into wine at the marriage feast; today Christ desired to be baptized by John in the river Jordan to bring us salvation, alleluia.
Yes, Jesus was revealed to the Three Kings, who came to him in his infancy. But Jesus is revealed as “my Son” when the Holy Spirit descends on him in the Jordan River, following his baptism by John the Baptist. And, as John the Evangelist writes, the first “sign” (John never calls them “miracles,” because they are “signs” of who Jesus is) happened at a wedding in Cana of Galilee, where he turned water into wine.
If we look at the Gospel (Matt. 2:1-12) the Church employs on Epiphany—the account of the Three Kings—we also see “revelation” occurring on multiple levels.
The magi are Gentiles. They are the first non-Jews to come to and acknowledge Christ. Yes, there were shepherds, but we can assume they were Jews. They lived in the neighborhood of Bethlehem. They receive a supernatural message: angels appear to proclaim the birth of a savior in the City of David. This is Jewish language, conveying Jewish Messianic expectations, involving a place, described in Jewish terms, pertaining to the quintessential Jewish king, David. After visiting the Christ Child, the shepherds depart “praising God,” suggesting they did so as Jews.
They might not have been highly regarded Jews—shepherds were relatively low on Israel’s social totem pole, in view of their nomadic mobility—but they’re Jews who receive a supernatural revelation in Jewish categories.
The magi are none of that. It is clear they come from a “faraway country.” In our terminology, they were part astronomer, part astrologer: they sought to discern in the movements of the heavens the designs of highest heaven. They acknowledge that their path in search of the “newborn king of the Jews” has been led by a star.
We should not dismiss them as “superstitious.” God meets people where they are. If the receiver isn’t ready for FM, God will send his message on AM.
And what the magi did is also something the Church encourages of its faithful. God reveals himself in the sacred books of the Bible, so we should come to know Scripture. But God also reveals himself in the book of nature, in a world whose order, beauty, contingency, and purposefulness all point beyond itself. They point to One who ordered it, gave it that beauty and purpose, and both created and sustains its being. The Church teaches that man can come to a certain knowledge of God even from the created world.
It was that knowledge that led the magi to search for the Christ Child.
That knowledge is not complete: although man can come to know that God exists from creation, just who that God is and what his designs are toward men is something he has to tell us. And that’s where supernatural revelation completes natural revelation.
The Epiphany Gospel shows that. The star led them far, to Jerusalem. The Gospel tells us they stopped at Herod’s court to supplement their information. Presumably, Israel should be glad it has a newborn king!
Revelation illumines our minds but does not necessarily bend our wills. Instead of a happy court, the magi find Herod and Jerusalem “disturbed.” It’s not that they lacked supernatural revelation. When Herod consults the Jerusalem establishment about where the Messiah is to be born, they readily pull out the appropriate index card: “Bethlehem of Judea: see Micah 5: 2,4.” They know—in a sense better than the magi—about this child. But only their heads are ready, in contrast to the magi’s heads and hearts.
Fortified with a booster shot of supernatural revelation, they continue in the light of natural revelation—the star—which leads them to the manifestation of him whom they sought: the child in Bethlehem. They see him for what he is: Israel’s true and greatest king. Herod and his sycophants see him only as competition.
Their gifts also “manifest” who this child is. At first glance, those presents seem odd for a child. I’ll admit I’ve never given any of my kids some frankincense under the Christmas tree.
Nor should I. Those gifts were symbolic, not in the sense that they weren’t real or didn’t matter, but because they symbolized the identity of their recipient. We try to give presents appropriate to the recipient. The magi’s consummately were. Gold is the gift for a king. Incense is a gift offered in worship to God. Myrrh—perhaps the strangest—was an ancient spice used for burial. Myrrh is needed for one who will die.
People today might think it strange to give a child a bottle of formaldehyde against his future embalming. But the gift of myrrh makes clear, even from his infancy, that this child’s life and destiny involve suffering and wrestling with death. Calvary already casts a shadow on Bethlehem.
A king, God, and one who is to die—how do those seemingly incongruent elements fit together? They fit in this child, and in the unfolding of his life, which is first revealed to and proclaimed by not those privileged with Scripture and supernatural revelation, but the natural revelation of a star. And through that revelation, we come to know the “light for the Gentiles and the glory of Israel,” in whom God’s universal offer of salvation is manifest.