Every year we celebrate the season of Epiphany, but most of the time, the actual day of Epiphany falls on a weekday.
Big deal, anyway, right?
It’s a strange little holiday that we don’t celebrate very much.
We don’t get each other Epiphany presents.
We don’t hang up Epiphany lights or set up an Epiphany tree.
There are no Epiphany turkey dinners or Epiphany fireworks.
What is the point of this holiday?
Well, first of all, Christmas is ending. Yesterday was the twelfth day of Christmas.
Jesus was born on December 25, and today, Epiphany, marks the day he is revealed to the world for who he really is, the Son of God.
Mary had twelve precious days to hoard him to herself.
Only Joseph and the shepherds knew he was alive.
But then the Wise Men arrive, and that is the first century equivalent of giving a press release. They witness his glory, and go out to spread the good news.
The word Epiphany means appearance or manifestation. Another word for what’s happening is Theophany—the appearance of God.
It’s remarkable that God is already allowing Jesus out onto the public stage at not even two weeks old.
Surely it would have been possible to keep Jesus’ identity hidden until he was a sturdier year old, or better yet, twelve years old, or better yet, twenty years old.
He’s going to be a target for curiosity seekers and fans and lovers and assassins, give the kid a chance.
Two weeks old and already the word is out? Continue reading