In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, magi from the east came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star in the east, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened.
They set out, and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen in the east, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy.
Matthew 2:1-3a, 9-10
We’re putting a button on the Christmas season today by celebrating Epiphany (a day early before the official day tomorrow). You may not know that Epiphany has been celebrated longer than Christmas itself. You may not know that other parts of the Church call it Theophany instead, which I think is probably a better term today. “Epiphany” from its origin is something like, “The Coming Upon,” or “The Appearance,” so it makes sense why the Church would use that word. But because language evolves, “epiphany” can be a misleading term regarding the Church holiday if, when we hear “epiphany,” we think of an insight or having your “a-ha” moment.
Even in secular society, I think we know that a little-e “epiphany” is bigger than us. Ask any artist about their greatest work and they will almost all say some variation of the same thing: “It’s like I was just a channel.” “It’s like the universe gifted me the idea.” Speaking from my own experience, the worst artistic ideas (and the worst theologies) are the ones where it’s really, really obvious that you came up with it, and you just really want to make it work. Not to beat the Bob Dylan horse dead again, but Ed Bradley on 60 Minutes once asked him if he could ever write songs again like he did in the 1960s, and he said no, he can’t just make that happen again. There was a magic he couldn’t control.
So reducing “epiphany” to a personal insight, an individual stroke of genius, is just missing what Epiphany is supposed to be all about.
At the risk of being cringe (not that that’s ever stopped me), there’s a useful phrase for our reading today that’s used by the very online—and you can ask your kids or your grandkids, I promise I’m not making this up—called “Main Character Syndrome,” a new way to label narcissism. It describes a phenomenon for when a situation is not about you, but you make it all about you; a bridesmaid making herself the center of attention at a wedding is suffering from “main character syndrome.” Many a preacher and many a ministry suffer it. Truthfully, it’s something that most of us do sometimes, that is, be egotistical. At its most light-hearted, it’s actually adorable, and how I imagine God must view all of our great accomplishments, like when you rig a game for a toddler to win and they delight with joy, “I did it!” And some things never change. I can be a very superstitious sports fan; when my Dodgers or my Carolina Hurricanes are on a roll, I want to sit in the same spot, with the same jersey and the same hat, and when they keep winning, a little part of me says, “Yeah, I did that. Me, the main character.”
Anyway, not only in Epiphany but throughout our whole church life, we can all risk making ourselves the “main character” of our walk with God.
But check out this wonderful, paradoxical news: God loves you, he loves you personally, he loves you individually, he loves you uniquely, and your salvation matters to him….but also, you aren’t the main character of your own salvation. And that is a wonderful thing.
God is the “main character” of all of our lives, even more than ourselves.1 I wonder how many of our spiritual problems boil down to forgetting or losing trust that God is the main character. I wonder how much the really long road of discipleship is simply trying to live with the constant memory, knowledge, and trust that Jesus Christ is the main character of the universe and of our lives. It is his saving work that matters, not ours. And those times when we know that, what a glorious thing it is to respond to and live joyfully out of.
And so that’s why I like Theophany as a better name for today. It puts God, theos, there in the word so that it is crystal clear we mean “the sudden appearance of God.” Or, “God shows up.”
I like that. God Shows Up Day.
And whether we call it Epiphany or Theophany or the End of Christmas, the important thing for us to always hold close is that God shows up no matter what we do. Epiphany is not something we need to have, just like it’s not about how good you are, whether you were smart enough, moral enough, had the right insights or the wrong ones, because all of those were just gifts anyway. The gospel is not good news about the magi’s powers of observation; it’s the good news of what God did. Something happened, and they saw it. It’s just the day they noticed God Showing Up.
But we can still from them. Though it’s God showing up, the Magi still need to notice it; they “observe his star at its rising” and then they respond to that observation. We don’t cause the good news, we learn to look for it and respond to it. And there’s only one response that really makes sense to seeing God showing up: joyful worship.
In contrast, look at Herod. The root problem with Herod is he doesn’t see God showing up. He can’t have any epiphany because he isn’t paying any attention. Nevertheless, he feels threatened when he sees someone else really beholding God, as if they can feel God emanating off them, like second-hand myrrh vapors. Herod isn’t dumb about power. But Herod is suffering, yes, “main character syndrome.” He sees the devotion of the Magi, how they are honoring and worshipping something bigger than themselves, and nothing is allowed to be bigger than him. And so he reacts out of his fear and wanting to keep control and power with an insane and brutal slaughter of innocent children.2 Herod’s syndrome means that while he may not have had the Epiphany, he still knows enough to mouth the right words to try and get what he wants. “Tell me where he is so I can pay homage,” he lies to the Magi.
But the Magi—who were non-Jewish total outsiders to the God of Israel and his story—were able to see what God was up to because they had been studying, paying attention, and looking. They had curiosity, they had humility, they were asking others, “Hey, what is the deal with this Messiah king?” While Herod wasn’t even looking for the Messiah of his own scriptures, the Magi had been practiced at looking for God. What did Herod practice? Like most people in elite places of power, he practiced paying attention to, “How does this impact me?” Not looking at where God is showing up, or even looking for what is true and good, but thinking, “How does this benefit me, or how does it threaten me?”
The tragedy of that stance is that it is the very posture that will be threatened by God showing up. So, while the Magi get to be blessed by this Theophany, all Herod gets is an “epiphany” from himself and about himself, a curse that he curses others with.
This episode teaches us why worship is the proper and joyful response to “God Showing Up. The better we worship God not only in the sanctuary but everywhere, the more we recognize all the places God is showing up and where something is off. If you are looking for words in your daily life, no matter what is happening, you can always pray something like, “Help me, God, to see you where you are right here. Help me know where you are showing up right now.” And we in the Church can help each other as our own band of magi through curiosity, asking each other questions in humility, and immersing ourselves in the patterns of God that Scripture teaches.
So if I may, I want to challenge you a little bit. ‘Tis the season for new resolutions, after all. If you haven’t been regularly reading your Bible, consider starting something that puts you into everyday communion with Scripture (ideally, with other people). There are so many different reading plans out there, and any of us can be a little more like the Magi by paying attention, asking, seeking, being curious, and developing our relationship with the Word, especially about the parts of Scripture that seem boring, or confusing, or disturbing; the Bible can handle you wrestling with it.
I also want to challenge you that if your prayer life is slipping, or long ago fell asleep, just begin again. Even better, find someone who you can regularly pray with together. This isn’t because you will make God come to you, but so that you grow in sensing how God already is showing up for you.
And as you’re getting back in touch with prayer and studying the Word, the stars, and the Holy Spirit’s weather, remember that we aren’t doing it to earn our salvation. We don’t worship to manufacture the Holy Spirit or the Light of God. We worship so that we may better see the Light where it is so that we may love it more than the Dark. As we just sang two weeks ago, “Come and behold him.” And if you still need more prayer words, you can share this with each other: “God, help us see your light and know your light. Help us know you are here and behold where you are.”
I hope we will do this through 2025 together: paying attention, keeping watch, and growing deeper in our curiosity about this man Jesus Christ. Who is he? What is his love like? Where is he now? And where will he show up next?