topleft05.jpg (18208 bytes)HOMILY
 The Solemnity of the Epiphany (C)
04 January 04


 

I recently saw Bruce Almighty, a movie in which a wanna-be news anchor finds himself at the end of his rope emotionally, career-wise, relationally and, at the root of it all, spiritually.

It seems that Bruce has one big problem in life: he is so obsessed with himself that the only things he really cares about have only to do with how they make him happy.  But now, confronted with the mess that Bruce has made of his life and, in a last-ditch effort to stitch the pieces of his life together, Bruce turns to God for divine assistance.

It doesn’t take long before God responds to Bruce’s pleas.

First, God sends a series of little coincidences to catch Bruce’s attention.  Although they do catch his attention, Bruce is blind to this manifestation of God’s presence in that Bruce doesn’t link these coincidences directly to God’s presence.  So, God then takes a more direct approach, appearing to Bruce and endowing him with the powers of the Almighty.  Of course, being the egotist that he is, Bruce abuses these powers for his own selfish purposes some of which, I have to admit, had me nearly passing out in laughter.

From a spiritual perspective, Bruce’s situation is critical.  Yet, it isn’t all that unusual.  After all, while many of us might not find ourselves in quite the desperate straits that Bruce finds himself, how many of us immediately turn to God and implore divine assistance when we want God to straighten out the messes that we’ve created?

For example, as parents, we might find ourselves at wit’s end wondering what to do when we’re dealing with a child’s immature response to the exercise of what we call “parental prerogative.”  Or, as a spouse, maybe we find ourselves at wit’s end when we’re told yet once again that we can’t have everything the way we want it.  Searching for happiness, young adults oftentimes find themselves at wit’s end and fantasizing about what life will be like when they are finally living on their own and able to do what they want, when they want, and in the way that suits their fancy.  Other people find themselves at wit’s end when tragedy strikes.  Suddenly, they’re demanding that God be present and provide an explanation that makes sense out of the chaos.

The desire we have that God manifest His presence and straighten the messes we’ve created in our lives is, in reality, a tacit admission of our frail and imperfect nature.  The confusion and chaos these messes cause remind us that we’re not the all-powerful, almighty, or omniscient beings we oftentimes pretend to be.  And, those desperate little prayers we utter are, in actuality, a candid admission of our need for God and His providence.

In light of the solemnity we celebrate today, we are “needy” beings whose most self-revealing prayer is that God manifest Himself in a personal “epiphany” (in Greek, the word epiphany [επιφάνοs] means “manifestation” or “showing”), which makes us just like Bruce.  When events conspire to trap us somewhere behind the proverbial “eight ball,” we hope and pray and plead and beg and cajole God to manifest Himself.  But, as today’s gospel indicates, when God responds by manifesting Himself, it is likely that we won’t see Him or recognize that God is answering our prayers.

For centuries, the Jews had hoped and prayed that God would manifest His love for His Chosen People by sending the promised Messiah.  This “Savior” would deliver the Jews from centuries of slavery, tribulation, and all of the messes they had created by trusting in themselves rather than in God.

But, what happened when God did respond to their prayers?  The Jews didn’t recognize the divine epiphany.

Why?

One explanation has to do with what we call the “power of positive expectations.”  For their part, the Jews expected that God would manifest Himself as a Messiah, a mighty and all-powerful Savior and King, not as a powerless infant laying in a manger.  Further, the Jews expected this Messiah’s birth would take place in David’s royal city, Jerusalem, not in a rustic town like Bethlehem, populated by lower-class, country bumpkins, and in a royal palace not some godforsaken and stinking stable located somewhere out in the middle of nowhere.  Lastly, the Jewish religious and civic leaders would hail the Messiah’s birth, not three pagan astrologers from the Persian territory that forms today’s nations of Iraq, Iran, and Afghanistan.

In the baby laying in a manger in Bethlehem, God had given what, for generations, faithful Jews had been praying, begging, pleading, and hoping for.  But, because the Jews expected God to manifest Himself in they way they had defined, the Jews were blind when, at long last, the divine epiphany came.

Now, while we may feel pity for the predicament into which the Jews had thrust themselves, what is truly ironic is that we’re not all that much different.  Although we pray, beg, plead, and hope that God will manifest Himself to us, when God actually does manifest Himself to us, we most likely won’t recognize the epiphany.  Like the Jews, we want God to come to save us in an unmistakable form, perhaps a burning bush, a pillar of fire by night and a cloud by day, in water flowing from a rock, dividing the tomato soup in two like Moses divided the Red Sea, the multiplication of loaves and fishes at the dinner table, or perhaps walking on water.  But, when God manifests Himself in the form of a child who tests our character, a spouse who tells us the painful truth, or when tragedy strikes, we are blind to those epiphanies.  Why?  Because we’ve decided that God must manifest Himself in the unmistakable way we have choreographed.

More often that not, it is also the case that we will recognize God’s epiphany only long after it takes place.  Just as it took decades for many Jews to recognize that God had manifested His power by sending His only begotten Son as the Messiah, it takes time for selfish people who are motivated solely by their inflated egos to recognize God’s presence by admitting that a child or spouse may be correct or to give thanks for that which tragedy has taken away.

That is the very difficult spiritual challenge today’s gospel puts to us: When we beg God to be present in our lives, are we doing so in the hope that God will manifest Himself to us as He truly is?  Or, is it closer to the truth to say that we want God to manifest Himself in the form of idols of our own making?

Like the Magi, our challenge is to seek God honestly as He manifests Himself in our daily lives and, especially, in those stinking mangers located in the little towns like Bethlehem where we believe God couldn’t possibly manifest Himself.  But, if we are to see God’s epiphany in these places as the Magi did, we need eyes that are capable of seeing God manifesting Himself as he is and not as we want Him to be.

Last week, we celebrated God manifesting Himself in becoming incarnate, taking upon Himself the form of a Messiah who is human like us in all things but sin.  Today, we celebrate God manifesting himself yet once again, but to people whose eyes see this epiphany for what it reveals.  In this sense, today’s solemnity recounts not so much the Magi’s preparation for and response to God’s epiphany in their lives but our own preparation for and response to God’s epiphany in our lives.  Like the Jews who allowed their expectations to blind themselves from seeing God manifesting Himself to them, is all we see in the messes of our lives a child laying in a stinking manger located in some godforsaken place?  Or, are we more like those pagan Magi, those heathens the Jews believed inferior to themselves yet whose openness to God’s epiphany made it possible for them to see what God was manifesting in the that child?

When our children test us, when our spouses confront us, and when tragedy engulfs us, do we wallow in our frustration and demand that God come in those idolatrous fantasies of our own crafting?  Or, do we see God as He is?

In the story of the Magi, the Gospel of Matthew offers some rather “disconcerting” Good News.  Spiritual growth—maturing as a child of God—seems to be predicated upon three fundamental decisions we must make, for better or worse.  First: we must decide what we want to see, namely, God’s epiphany or the idols of our own creation.  Second: we must decide whether we will be vigilant as we prepare ourselves for God’s epiphany or complacent about it.  And third: when God does reveal Himself, we must decide whether or not we will follow the pathway God reveals.  That pathway may require loving that testy child more exercising parental prerogative.  It may require listening to our spouse and responding by working to change our selfish behavior.  Or, it may require that we stop blaming God for tragedy.

In Bruce Almighty, it wasn’t until after Bruce abused the powers God had given him that Bruce painfully recognized what characterizes true prayer.  It isn’t begging, pleading, imploring, hoping, and cajoling God into manifesting Himself by giving us what we want.  It isn’t begging, pleading, imploring, hoping and cajoling God to straighten out the messes in our lives or to make everyone in the entire world happy.  No, Bruce finally discovered that true prayer means begging, pleading, imploring, hoping, and cajoling God—from the depths of his heart—for what others need.

This is how God manifests His power and majesty.  When we honestly admit in prayer that we are weak and frail, when we recognize and articulate our absolute dependence upon God and His divine providence, and when we acknowledge that we ultimately have no control over the messes of our lives, we exercise free will by inviting God to heal our blindness.  Only then will we see God manifesting His glory.  And, when we do, we will return to our daily lives along “a different way”—just as the Magi did—not along the “same old way” as the Jews did.

 

 

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