Words can often dance with different meanings depending on how we say them. Take the phrase “Wait till your father gets home.” Growing up, those words from Mom could foretell either impending doom or upcoming celebration – the difference lay entirely in her tone (and, let’s be honest, in whatever mischief my brothers and I had managed that day).
Merry Christmas! Thanks so much for stopping by to read this homily for THE EPIPHANY OF THE LORD January 5, 2025. I appreciate your sharing this on your social media posts and your feedback and comments… I’m also grateful for all those who’ve asked for the audio version and share them as well at SOUNDCLOUD click HERE or from ITUNES as a podcast HERE. May the Lord be glorified in your reading and sharing- Father Jim –
QUICK COMMERCIAL – we are winding down our Annual Christmas Appeal where we hope to raise $35,000. Today we are over 2/3 of the way there and with your help we can close that last $10,000 mark! I’d appreciate you visitng our website and considering offering a gift here
This shifting nature of words and their meaning struck me as I reflected on today’s Feast of the Epiphany. The phrase “shock and awe” kept echoing in my mind. For many of us, especially those who lived through the 1990s, those words were evoked often to encourage support of the Gulf War in Iraq. This image of a military strategy with a promise of overwhelming force designed to bring swift victory with minimal casualties probably originated from earlier perhaps ancient conquests.
Throughout the Old Testament’s 46 books, God made extraordinary promises to the Jewish people. They would become a light to all nations. The world would look to them, God’s chosen people, as the Lord revealed Himself as King of the Universe. We hear this magnificent promise in today’s first reading from Isaiah. Picture the scene: The Jewish people are in exile, defeated and conquered. Yet through Isaiah, God speaks words of astounding hope: “Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem! Your light has come, the glory of the Lord shines upon you… nations shall walk by your light.”
The Psalmist amplifies this vision: “Lord, every nation on earth will adore you.” These weren’t just comforting words – they were radical promises of global transformation. For a conquered people, such promises must have seemed impossible without some earth-shattering display of divine power. And indeed, many expected God’s intervention to arrive with terrifying might – a cosmic “shock and awe” campaign that would leave no doubt about His supremacy.
God did have a “shock and awe” strategy. But God’s idea of “shock and awe” proved far different from human expectations. Instead of armies of angels or displays of overwhelming force, He chose a star. Instead of a warrior-king, He sent a baby. Instead of conquering nations through might, He invited them through mystery. The Magi, these “three wise men” or “three kings of orient” as they’re so often described – are these learned foreigners from the East – and they represent the first fruits of this divine strategy. They came not as conquered subjects but as willing seekers, bearing gifts and bowing in genuine adoration.
This is the true “shock and awe” of Epiphany – that God would choose to reveal His universal kingship not through force but through vulnerability, not through conquest but through invitation. The mighty star led not to a palace but to a humble home in Bethlehem. The greatest king in history was revealed not on a throne but in His mother’s arms.
And isn’t this still how God works? He continues to surprise us, choosing the unexpected, working through the overlooked, revealing Himself in ways that confound our expectations. The Magi followed a star, but we’re called to follow something even more remarkable – the light of Christ himself, burning in our hearts through faith, leading us ever closer to divine truth.
This Epiphany, perhaps we’re invited to reconsider our own expectations of how God should work in our lives. Are we looking for grand gestures when He might be speaking in whispers? Are we waiting for dramatic interventions when He’s already present in the simple moments of our daily lives? Are we desiring some mighty miracle, while overlooking the precious miracle of Him becoming real and present, body, blood, soul and divinity in the Eucharistic Host that even more shocking and awesomely He gives to us to take and eat… The same God who led the Magi by a star leads us still, not through celestial signs but through the light of faith, hope, and love… and makes His home within us.
Like those wise men from the East, may we have the courage to follow where He leads, the wisdom to recognize Him in unexpected places, and the generosity to offer Him the best of who we are. For in the end, the greatest “shock and awe” isn’t found in displays of power, but in the astounding truth that the God of the universe chose to reveal Himself as one of us, inviting all peoples to share in His divine life.
That’s a revelation worth following any star to find.
