Go before us with heavenly light, O Lord, always and everywhere, that we may perceive with clear sight and revere with true affection the mystery in which you have willed us to participate.
– Prayer after Communion, Solemnity of the Epiphany of the Lord
Like Christmas, the feast of the Epiphany comes at a time when New England's seasonal darkness and the activity of various holidays can enhance one's desire for light and peace. For my community, it comes at the end of our winter vacation; tonight we begin a three-day retreat to renew our devotion to religious life and its particular Jesuit expression before starting a new round of classes with our fellow Boston College students on January 12.
Like Christmas, the feast of the Epiphany comes at a time when New England's seasonal darkness and the activity of various holidays can enhance one's desire for light and peace. For my community, it comes at the end of our winter vacation; tonight we begin a three-day retreat to renew our devotion to religious life and its particular Jesuit expression before starting a new round of classes with our fellow Boston College students on January 12.
The foreign visitors who came to Jerusalem, led by the unexpected appearance of a brilliant star, were perhaps shocked at their hosts' confusion and alarm. Did they not recognize the wondrous sign in their midst? The wise men, undoubtedly content with their riches, their wisdom, and their prominent standing in their own country, abandoned these sources of security to follow a celestial portent. Upon reaching their unknown destination, they humbled themselves before a greater wealth, a deeper truth, and a more enduring power. After encountering God before them in a most humbling and unexpected way, they eventually returned home, not only by a different route, but also as changed people.
As I was greeting families after Mass this morning, one of the many young children in attendance made a break for the altar. Within a few moments, he was crawling toward the manger scene, pointing at the infant Jesus nestled in the company of Mary and Joseph, shepherds, the three wise men (recently arrived from their earlier position in the back of the church), and an assortment of animals and angels. His mother and aunt followed closely, but gave him plenty of freedom to wander around, point excitedly, and gaze at the scene before him. We couldn't tell what he was saying– or whether it was in English or in Spanish, for that matter– but we could tell that he was captivated by something, and wanted us to share in his wonder and amazement.
As our community gathers anew after our Christmas travels, I'm delighted to recognize us renewing the tangible mystery of our fraternal bonds. Jesuits from distant countries who moved into my small community of ten back in August have transformed my experience of belonging to a religious order that is global in scope but profoundly local in practice. Living here in Boston, with these nine brothers within a larger community of eighty, has drawn me to devote an increasing share of my gifts, my time, and my devotion to the life that we share as we study, cook, pray, laugh, and relax together, day in and day out. They are the ones who remind me of my commitment, encourage me to go out to friends and neighbors with enthusiastic friendship and service, and share my joys and struggles as I accompany them in theirs. My dear brothers may have come from the other side of the world, and will surely return there in the future, just as I expect to journey onward from Boston after completing my studies. Yet none of us will leave here as the men who arrived, and I can already envision myself feeling very much at home with them in their countries should I ever be fortunate to journey there.
As our community gathers anew after our Christmas travels, I'm delighted to recognize us renewing the tangible mystery of our fraternal bonds. Jesuits from distant countries who moved into my small community of ten back in August have transformed my experience of belonging to a religious order that is global in scope but profoundly local in practice. Living here in Boston, with these nine brothers within a larger community of eighty, has drawn me to devote an increasing share of my gifts, my time, and my devotion to the life that we share as we study, cook, pray, laugh, and relax together, day in and day out. They are the ones who remind me of my commitment, encourage me to go out to friends and neighbors with enthusiastic friendship and service, and share my joys and struggles as I accompany them in theirs. My dear brothers may have come from the other side of the world, and will surely return there in the future, just as I expect to journey onward from Boston after completing my studies. Yet none of us will leave here as the men who arrived, and I can already envision myself feeling very much at home with them in their countries should I ever be fortunate to journey there.
The heavenly light of God is sorely needed in our world, where darknesses both profound and subtle filter into the radiance of human lives, the natural environment, and various societies and cultures. Fortunately, it's already present in all of those places and people. The Epiphany message depicts that light as a guide to our journeys, a promise of encounter with God, and an assurance of our truest hopes and dreams. We've been invited into the mystery; let's be sure to take (and share) a good look.
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