Epiphany

T.S. Eliot’s famous poem, The Waste Land, begins with the words, “April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire.” He was wrong. January is crueler by far. It mixes hope with reality, a more volatile combination.

The hopes are perennial, like the mums that awaken each year in my shrubbery bed. We may say we’re beyond making resolutions, but when the ball drops onto January 1, we’re thinking “New Beginning.” And with the new beginning comes new initiatives, which break through the soil of consciousness as resolves. “This year, with a little more effort, discipline, or maybe awareness, I will be better, do better, or achieve better in some particular part of my life.” Can’t help it. We’re born to hope, no matter how many previous resolutions we’ve let quietly die. The Great Seal of the state of South Carolina has everyone’s motto engraved in Latin: Dum spiro spero --“While I breathe, I hope.”

The hopes of January push us forward, while the realities of January push us down. The daily news reminds us it’s a tragic world where most people are narrowly concerned with keeping themselves warm and content. The December expenses and tax forms tag-team against us in the mailbox. The twinkling lights and indulgent fragrances of Christmas are gone and we have to face the same old work, the same old home, the same old everything, and yes, the same old self. Disillusionment and depression control the market in January.

The realities of January convict us with our limitations and failures. The hopes of January convict us with what could be. That is a powerful combination, January or anytime, because together they demand we admit our need of a Savior. And suddenly, Bethlehem’s famous son is insufficient as an infant in a manger. We need the Son of God, who boldly strides through our darkened and doubting hearts with redemption and real transformation in his hands. We need the divine Word-made-flesh to upgrade our earth-bound hopes with visions of the earth receiving its king. Babies are disarmingly cute and welcome us close into the warmth of love. But babies cannot stand in the gap for us, protect us from that which would undo us, direct us in the fray of conflict, or sacrifice on our behalf.

No wonder the ancient Church established the season of Epiphany following Christmastide. Epiphany means to “show forth” and re-tells the gospel stories in which the divine nature of Jesus shines through His humanity. In this Jesus of Nazareth, we see revealed the living God of purity, justice, and grace, who calls us to worship him in spirit and in truth.

We need reminding that the one we come to worship is the One whose holiness causes all creation to tremble. We must stand alongside the first disciples and remember our faith is more encounter than comprehension. In worship, we come before the Mysterious Christ, who brandishes mercy as a two-edged sword, slashing through our false goodness, pride, and pretensions of control, while surgically reshaping our hearts into His dwelling place.

Living in a land that applauds casual faith and callous consumerism -- and so bent on warfare as the only road to “peace,” we need Epiphany more than ever. Epiphany began on January 6th and leads us through weekly wonders to the ash-marked gate of Lent. It can be a time of true beginning for you and me, if we let the holy mystery of Christ’s presence become the source of our discipline.

January, the cruelest month says, “Get real, get ready, and get the help you need.” Epiphany responds, “Our help is in the name of the Lord, who still makes the heavens and the earth, and you and me, and gets into our world so we won’t forget it.” So be it.