The word Epiphany means “an appearance or manifestation,” especially of a deity. Our celebrations of the Epiphany shows the Magi making their way to the newborn Jesus and his family. The child “showed himself forth” to them, like a candle shows forth in the dark.

The Magi followed light from far away (Persia?), the star which led them through the darkness to the tiny yet powerful light of Christ. It is a sweet story. We rejoice.

But we do remember that darkness is at hand also, the bad kind, the smoldering human rubble found all over the world in so many countries. The Magi speak of it on their journey, as imagined by TS Eliot:*

  ... Then the camel men cursing and grumbling
And running away, and wanting their liquor and women,
And the night-fires going out, and the lack of shelters,
And the cities hostile and the towns unfriendly
And the villages dirty and charging high prices:
A hard time we had of it.
At the end we preferred to travel all night,
Sleeping in snatches. ...

And there was deeper darkness to come. The Wise Men moved, weary, into Jerusalem, and then straight into the jaws of the power-hungry, luxury-loving King Herod.

They asked a question to the Jerusalem citizens that shocked Herod greatly when it got back to him. “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage” (Gospel).

Ouch. The question revealed a stunning fact. There is to be a new king instead of Herod!

Herod oiled his way to his chief priests and scribes. He ordered them to scour scripture for hints about this horror—uh, no, this holy birth. In response they announced in a dignified manner that the long-awaited Messiah, King of the Jews, will be born “in Bethlehem of Juda.”

But this is just what Herod and his offspring were: Kings of the Jews. He called the Magi to him, smiled, faked holy interest, then made his plans.

Make no mistake. At this point Herod knew clearly he was dealing with God’s own design for the world, foretold by the scriptures of the very people he was supposed to be leading. Herod made up his mind to commit an atrocity.

You know the story. The Magi had found and worshipped the tiny Christ. Herod, still in the dark, sent out troops to slaughter all boy babies of two years old or less in Bethlehem and surroundings, just to eleminate this so-called “King” (Mt 2:13-16). And, speaking of having “a hard time of it,” in Eliot’s words, Jesus’ parents had to cross the harsh desert into Egypt in order to save him.

This child was like a candle in the wind.

Why do the readings talk so much about dark night on this Epiphany, which is the very feast of the dayspring? It is a complicated question, but here is one answer.

Because God’s light only comes to us thoroughly mingled with the grubby reality of human life. Why else did he come as an infant? The Christ did not arrive to erase our troubles but to join us in them, to be a quiet light in our darkness, not a blinding replacement for the dark.

So we have to be like the Magi. We have to have our own puzzling, sleepless nights, and we have to search and search, and never ever rest until we see the light as God chose to reveal it.

You are invited to email a note to the author of this reflection:
Fr. John Foley, SJ