Epiphany of the Lord
Isaiah 60:1–6 · Ephesians 3:2–3 · Matthew 2:1–12
Her name is Arito. She was born into a Buddhist family and educated in a Catholic school in Japan. “The Lord Buddha was always present in my life,” she said, “but Jesus was slowly finding his way into my heart.”
A few years ago, she went to the Philippines to work for a Japanese company. It was there—far from home—that she discovered the joy and peace of Christian faith. Slowly, quietly, the moment of decision drew near. There could be only one Lord.
Despite her devotion to Buddha, she chose to worship Jesus as the Lord of her life. She was baptized in a small Catholic church in Japan. “Peace,” she said, “has reigned in my heart since that very day.”
That is Epiphany.
The Gospel today tells another story of seekers from the East—Magi—who set out in search of a newborn king. And the story is full of surprises.
First, it is surprising that a Jewish Gospel speaks of stars at all. Scripture usually warns against attempts to control life by reading the heavens. Moses forbids divination and sorcery. Isaiah mocks the stargazers of Babylon who promise certainty but cannot save.
And yet, this star is different.
It is not about prediction. It is not about control. It is not about locking human lives into destiny.
This star does not dominate—it invites. It does not dictate—it points.
It is a sign of light breaking into darkness, of the glory of the Lord rising where fear has ruled too long.
Darkness may cover the earth. Systems may tell people that their place in life is fixed. Powers may insist that inequality, violence, and exclusion are inevitable.
But some, even in the night, notice the first hint of dawn.
“Arise, shine, for your light has come.”
Second, we expect Jerusalem to rejoice. A king is born. Hope has arrived.
Instead, the city is disturbed. Herod is troubled—and so is all Jerusalem with him.
Why?
Because the confession “Jesus is Lord,” if taken seriously, unsettles every order built on fear. It challenges rulers who govern by anxiety. It exposes systems that protect privilege while sacrificing the vulnerable.
Herod does not fear chaos. He fears losing control.
History confirms this. When earthly powers claim absolute authority, faith becomes dangerous. In 1953, when the government in Poland attempted to control the Church, the bishops replied with two simple words: Non possumus—we cannot. They chose obedience to God over submission to unjust power. Persecution followed. It always does.
Third, once the Scriptures point to Bethlehem, we expect everyone to go there.
But only the Magi do.
Herod stays behind. Jerusalem stays behind. Many prefer information without conversion—knowledge that changes nothing.
How often is this true of us?
We know where Bethlehem is. We know what the Gospel says. We know the language of faith.
And yet, knowing is safer than going.
The Magi do not remain at a distance.
They follow the star. They enter the house. They see the child with Mary his mother. They fall down and worship.
And something breaks open.
No longer ruled by the stars. No longer intimidated by tyrants. No longer captive to fear disguised as necessity.
They are freed—from fate, from false security, from obedience to power that does not serve life.
They offer their gifts. They offer their lives. And they leave changed.
“They returned to their country by another route.”
That is Epiphany too.
Our world still consults the stars. Not always in the sky—but in markets, statistics, and systems that claim to decide who matters and who does not. We are told that some must lose so others may win. That injustice is realistic. That fear is necessary.
But the Gospel tells another story.
Not fate, but faith. Not fear, but freedom. Not domination, but dignity.
Epiphany is not about receiving information. It is about encountering a different Lord.
It is not about knowing where Bethlehem is. It is about daring to go there.
And once we have seen the child— once we have bowed before a God who comes without violence— we will find that we cannot return to our old paths.
We, too, must go home by another route.
Scripture Attribution
New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright © 1989, 1993
the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of
Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Content License
© 2025 Krakus.
Licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0 (Creative Commons Attribution–NonCommercial).