Happy New Year, everyone. If you’re like most people, you’ve already thought at least once: This year has to be different.  Not perfect. But different.

There’s something about flipping the calendar that makes us startlingly honest, even if just for a moment. Maybe you pause and start wondering: what’s actually working in my life? What am I tired of carrying? What do I still wish could change? For a lot of us, that self-check sneaks in as a note on your phone, a late night thought, or a quiet restlessness as you scroll through everyone’s highlight reels online. Somewhere deep down, a voice tugs: Isn’t there more than this?

That’s where all those classic New Year’s resolutions come from—eat better, save some money, workout more, find a job that fits, cut back on endless scrolling. They sound practical. But under the surface, what we’re all really looking for is a sense of meaning. More peace. A little direction. Maybe even a shot at joy that lasts longer than a new gadget or a vacation.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! Thank you for taking the time to read this homily for THE FEAST OF THE EPIPHANY- January 4, 2026 – Your support means a great deal to me, and I’m deeply grateful for the many who share these messages with their friends, families and social media followers. If you’ve found meaning in these words, I’d be grateful if you’d share them with others who might benefit.

And for those who prefer listening, you can find the audio version on SoundCloud HERE or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes HERE. Your comments, messages, and the way you’ve embraced these homilies continue to inspire me.   Sincerely in Christ -Father Jim

And this is where the Gospel’s story of the Magi starts to make sense.

Epiphany is sometimes painted as a simple story: three wise men following a star. But take a closer look—these Magi were restless souls, hungry for meaning, searching for something real. One night, they spot a star that seems to offer more than just light. For them, it’s a sign the world might be bigger, and more hopeful, than anything they’d imagined. So they take a risk: they leave comfort behind and set out toward the unknown, believing there has to be more.

They go.

Think about what that meant: long roads, cold nights, zero certainty that any of it would pan out. What really stands out is that the star wasn’t just theirs—anyone could have seen it. Regular people, busy people, even powerful people. Most didn’t move. Maybe they were too distracted. Maybe too comfy. Maybe they’d given up hope. But something inside the Magi nudged them: get up, go, see for yourself.

And that’s what sets them apart—they trust that restless feeling. They push past wrong turns, confusion, dead ends. And when they finally get there, Matthew says, “They were overjoyed.” They kneel. They give what they brought. And then, quietly, the Gospel says, “They returned home by a different road.”

That little detail changes everything.

Because, let’s be honest—this king they found didn’t look like a king. No palace. No throne. No armies. Just a child, in a messy stable. But something in that moment told them: this was what their journey—and their restlessness—was about. And after, there was no way they could go back the same way they’d come.

And that’s what Epiphany is about: not just information, but transformation. Not coming to church or to God with perfect answers—but being honest enough to move, to search, to ask for something real, and then letting that search change your direction.

If you’re a young adult in 2026, you know what restlessness feels like. Life feels unsteady: jobs aren’t guaranteed, relationships get messy, debt and worries about the future pile up. And on top of all that, there’s the invisible pressure to perform—to show the world, online and off, that you’re more together than you feel. Some days, it’s exhausting.

And right in the middle of all that, the Church says this: The light still shines.

It’s not a trend, not a hack, and not clickbait. It’s a steady light—Christ himself—still reaching into the chaos, the anxiety, the self-doubt, the comparison. Isaiah says in the first reading: “Arise! Shine, for your light has come.” God’s light isn’t waiting for you to “fix” yourself. It shines right into your real life, with all its mess. Paul says in Ephesians, that this light—this hope—is for everyone. No one left out, no one on the outside. Even the Magi, the ultimate outsiders, are welcomed first at the manger.

Pope Benedict put words to what a lot of us feel: our hearts are restless for God, no matter how much noise or numbness we throw at that restlessness, it’s still there. But this is the part many people miss: God’s heart is restless for us, too. God is searching, God is waiting, God doesn’t sit still—he comes out to find us. Epiphany isn’t just about us searching for God. It’s about God setting out to find you: in Bethlehem, on the Cross, in every moment you feel lost or unfinished.

So maybe the most important New Year’s question isn’t “How will I improve myself this year?” Maybe it’s: “Where do I want to go? What direction is worth starting in?”

What if God is quietly inviting you, like the Magi, to take a new path?

Maybe that starts small. Honest prayer, not just a rushed checkbox. Forgiving someone—maybe yourself—instead of replaying the same hurts. Finding time for people on the margins. Turning down the volume of life long enough to listen for a call you’ve been avoiding.

The Magi didn’t show up perfect. They made mistakes, they followed the wrong leads, got lost. But they kept moving. And when they saw Jesus, they couldn’t go back to life as usual.

Neither can we.

Epiphany means seeing how God really is, and who you’re actually meant to become. Not transformed in an instant, but step by step, detour by detour, no turning back the same way.

So as this new year gets going, let’s follow the Magi’s lead. Let’s look up. Let’s follow the light we’ve got. Let’s bring everything real—our dreams, doubts, wounds and hopes—to the altar.

And when we leave, let’s take a different way forward, trusting that even if it’s unfamiliar, or a little scary, it’s the road Jesus is walking with us.

Because when you finally meet the real Light—the one who sees it all and stays—that kind of change is worth everything.

Amen.