by Deacon Greg Kandra
If we hadn’t seen enough Christmas lights this season — on houses, trees, bushes, and department stores — this past Sunday, we were absolutely festooned with them. The reading from Isaiah announced in the very first line: “Your light has come!” And it kept on coming. “Nations shall walk by your light,” the prophet continues, and the Scriptures go on to speak of “shining radiance,” “light,” and, in Matthew’s memorable gospel, the star that guided the magi to Bethlehem. We are positively blinded by illumination.
On the feast of Epiphany, the most prominent epiphany (or “revelation”) may well be that light has finally come to the world. We might consider this the very fulfillment of God’s first words in all Scripture: “Let there be light.” This glorious feast is the perfect moment to remember that command — and to cherish what those words really mean. With the birth of Christ, God took on flesh and entered human history as a baby in a humble stable, and the world was made whole. Something new is beginning, and another Genesis starts to unfold. But that leaves us to wonder: What will we do about it? How will we make this moment count in the days to come?
Many of us have made resolutions for the new year and a few of us, I suspect, have already broken them. Admit it, that diet disappeared with the last tin of Christmas cookies and the final box of Whitman’s chocolates. But all is not lost. When you think about it, Epiphany is really the best time to resolve to start anew. It is the perfect moment to soak up the light radiating around us, redirect it into our hearts, and scatter the darkness. Now is the time to start fresh. The light of this day points the magi to Jesus, but they aren’t the only ones.
It leads us to that encounter in Bethlehem, too. It calls us to the manger, to the unlikely throne of a newborn king, where we kneel and reflect and pray and then open our own gifts, our own “treasures,” before the Lord. It invites us to see Christ in his astonishing humility — even, incredibly, his helplessness — and coaxes us to say, with a sense of wonder and hope: “Here I am. This is what I have to offer you. Help me to be of use.”
That may be one of the best gifts we can give the Lord right now — ourselves, in all our frailty and imperfection, but filled with possibility. The psalmist knew what he was writing about. “Here I am. I come to do your will.” At the dawn of a new year, on a day dazzling with light, we come before God with a sense of surrender and new purpose.
With the light of Christ in our hearts, how can we make the days ahead brighter in places so often overcome by shadows? How can we be light in the world? This Gospel passage offers one compelling answer — and a sense of direction — in what may be one of my favorite lines in all Scripture: “They departed for their country by another way.”
After the magi had greeted the newborn king and en- countered the savior of the world, things had to change. They couldn’t follow a familiar route. They couldn’t go back to the old way they had traveled before. There had to be another way. If you’re looking for a good resolution to keep in this new year, there it is. Resolve to go “by another way.” Need some help? Here’s an Epiphany prayer for the new year:
“God, make my journey one of faith, with love as my fuel
and compassion as my map.
Direct me down narrow paths that lead me always to
you, despite whatever obstacles, roadblocks and detours I
might have to take.
And like the magi, when the way becomes dark and the
road uncertain, and I fear I have lost my way, help me
remember you are near.
Let me always be guided by your light.
Amen.”
Deacon Greg Kandra is an award-winning author and journalist, and creator of the blog “The Deacon’s Bench.”
