Glorious Humility

We've packed up Christmas, and we've put it back in storage in the basement. Alas and alack! I know I'm a bit of a geek about Christmas, but I must confess that my theology is grounded in the Incarnation, and for me, the Feast of the Incarnation is paramount to my faith.

But I do love Epiphany, too (heck, if you get right down to it, I love each liturgical season for the gifts and inspiration each offer!). Epiphany is the season of discovery, revelation, recognition, and realization. Throughout the season - and this winter's Epiphany is about as long as the season can get - we share signs and revelations of Jesus' divinity and godliness, along with his truly human and worldly self. There is glory in his miracles and signs, there is power in his preaching and his healing. But there is also humility in his humble servant hood, his example of walking, eating, and communing with the marginalized and the ignored.

Glory AND humility, divine AND human, exalted AND humbled, God AND Man - opposites, held in relation to one another as God's desire to hold God's self close to creation. It is enigmatic - mysterious - that, as Henri Nouwen put it, "It is hard to believe that God would reveal his diving presence to us in the self-emptying, humble way of the man from Nazareth." (THE ROAD TO DAYBREAK) It is hypocritical for those of us as faith communities and institutions to seek power, control, and popularity, when Christ's example was in embracing the powerless, the voiceless, and the littleness of the world.

Epiphany is a season of abundance and blessing, but it is also the season of quiet healing, still faith, and awe in the gift of Christ. May we continue our liturgical year, in sincere celebration of the gifts of the season, celebrating the Incarnate mystery of God mad Man, and the revelation of that truth by recalling and retelling the miraculous works and inspiring teachings of Jesus.