Feast of the Epiphany - Homily 4

 Homily 4 - 2019

Matthew gives his story of the “wise men” [astrologers from some unidentified country to the East] pride of place in his introductory segment to the public life of Jesus. Though he adds a number of details of his own, basically his aim was to give flesh to the enthusiastic message contained in the Book of Isaiah [as we heard in today’s First Reading], though he did so in his own typically restrained way:"Arise, shine out, Jerusalem, for your light has come … though night still covers the earth and darkness the peoples … Above you the Lord now rises.. The nations come to your light … everyone in Sheba will come, bringing gold and incense and singing the praise of the Lord”.

Though he could have drawn on any number of suitable passages from a variety of prophets, Matthew chose this one for his formal introduction to the significance of Jesus precisely because of its universalist vision. Consistently, he would conclude his Gospel with a similar theme. Then he would have the recently crucified but now risen Jesus appearing to his disciples on a mountain in Galilee, and urging them, “Go and make disciples of all the nations … I am with you always.”

Today, with the Feast of Epiphany, we celebrate the fact that Jesus’ message is meant for the whole world.

Yet, hostility has pretty well always defined how the world’s nations have related to one another. The study of history is little more than the study of successive wars. Now we have reached a stage in the world’s evolutionary march across time when a single person, by pushing a button, can destroy the whole world, everyone. We have reached the stage when Jesus’ message has never been so necessary. Is anyone listening?

Jesus insisted that God loves this world. If that is the case, then is God powerless? It is a good question, and merits pondering. If Jesus was God’s response to the world’s need, was/is Jesus powerless? The Feast of Christmas gives flesh to that question. Is anyone as powerless as a newly-born infant? Consistently, did anyone look more powerless than a lonely man hanging twisted, tortured and dehumanised on a cross?

Confusion comes from our understanding of the word “power”. Power, too often, is seen as the power to coerce, and rides roughshod over freedom and human dignity and individuality, and genuine love. It is a miserable sense of power, and deceptive. God has nothing to do with it.

Yet we also use the word “power” to describe the opposite of coercion. Power gives and nurtures life. It enables growth, and encourages freedom. It respects human dignity and uniqueness. We see it in the power of truth to convince, of beauty and joy to attract, of personal integrity to teach, of love to create and empower, of simplicity and transparency to reassure, and of poverty to celebrate it all. This is as close as we get to describing God’s power. It has nothing to do with coercion. To be effective it calls for free and willing cooperation – and consequently it takes time.

Since he was truly human, when Jesus was crucified, he died. He lived only thirty or so years. And history has continued to unroll, two thousand years of it. He left the Church to carry on his message and ministry. That’s us. The Second Vatican Council spoke beautifully of the Church and its relationship to human cultures: “Established by Christ as a fellowship of life, charity and truth [or, better, a vital, loving, faith-filled community], it is also used by him as an instrument for the redemption of all and is sent forth into the whole world as the light of the world and the salt of the earth”. Inevitably the Church is composed of persons like ourselves who, at the same time, belong to human cultures. Sadly, instead of influencing culture, culture too often influences the Church. But the more we grow to be that vital, loving, faith-filled community, the more effective ely we become Christ's instrument for the redemption of the world.