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Greetings, Everyone!
My presepju, simple as it is, reflects not only a Maltese tradition but the essence of The Feast of the Epiphany. True, there are no kings or magi in my version, but the feast is neither about royalty nor astronomy. Rather, it is a feast that asks us to see, to behold, and to worship, with the invitation being extended to all peoples everywhere. I never got into the elaborate creations that are traditional in so many Maltese households; many families use papier-mâché to create hills and village scenes, or else use cork, driftwood, styrofoam, and even bread and chocolate! Instead, I have a few medieval-looking buildings that I purchased in Rome at the Christmas market in the Piazza Navona many years ago, along with an assortment of miniature chickens, geese, rabbits, sheep, bales of hay, trays of fish and vegetables, and several wine barrels. Anachronisms abound, and nothing is to scale. What is important, however, are the people.
Cast from post-WWII moulds, the figurines represent individuals from every walk of life. There are shepherds and revelers, musicians and farmers, innkeepers, groups of women, and even the local drunkard who is oblivious to the festivities. All (except the inebriated youth) converge on the holy of holies, the place where the Child waits in expectation of their arrival. They come bearing gifts -- not of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, but gifts of lambs, produce, and music. Most importantly, they bring themselves, and the greatest gift is that they have come at all, drawn by that Light which will illumine their lives forever...
Epiphany Blessings!
Elizabeth
PS Please share this issue with friends, family, parishioners, etc.
SCRIPTURE REFLECTION
Link to Sunday Readings
After their audience with the king, the magi set out.
And behold, the star they had seen at its rising preceded them,
until it came to rest over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and, on entering the house,
saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures,
offering him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
Having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod,
the magi departed for their country by another way.
Mt 2:1-12
On a symbolic level, the magi represent the world of the Gentiles; astronomers from the East--possibly Zoroastrian priests, they have witnessed a new star rise in the heavens and are now seeking the newborn king to whom it points. While traditional Christmas carols suggest the magi follow the star to their destination, there is nothing in Matthew's Gospel to suggest that this is actually the case; in fact, the astronomers only see the star again once Herod has pointed them towards Bethlehem (Mt 2:9). This means that even without the star or a GPS app, they somehow reach Jerusalem where Jewish prophecies guide them in the right direction.
Between the rising of the new star and its reappearance, then, they have traveled in the dark, in search of Light. Stiff from the saddle, weary of desert storms, bored of the incessant jangle of camel harnesses, they trek roughly 1,000 miles from Persia to Jerusalem. Whether they are on horseback or on camels, this is no easy journey, and the possibility of being attacked by bandits is an ever-present reality. Though celestial events were often linked to the rise and fall of kings and dynasties in the ancient world, the magi are specific in their quest. Their scholarship and spiritual understanding have led them to see "the newborn King of the Jews" as something more than an earthly king, or they would not have undertaken their quest. For his part, Herod immediately assumes they are seeking the Messiah, a suspicion that the chief priests and scribes corroborate by their knowledge of the prophecies.
Ironically, while the magi rely on human knowledge and intuition to get them to Jerusalem, it is the wicked king who provides them with the final key:
"And you, Bethlehem, land of Judah, are by no means least among the leaders of Judah; since from you shall come a ruler, who is to shepherd my people, Israel" (Micah 5:2).
In our own lives, we, like the magi, often find ourselves traveling in the dark. Like them, we move between knowing and not knowing, between certainty and doubt, between human knowledge and dependence on divine inspiration. Like them, we often embark on challenging quests and the search for meaning with only hints and guesses to guide us; we may trust our instincts but find ourselves wondering whether we are on the right path or whether we have missed some divine communication. We look for signs, and, at times, a star may appear to reassure us, while, at others, it disappears altogether. Without a star to guide us, we find ourselves descending into the dark, often becoming despondent, even depressed, as we struggle with doubt, fear, and loss of faith. At such times, we lose energy, motivation, and the willingness to hope in the future; at such times, we may find ourselves unable to pray.
Whether we name them as kings or magi, and whether we view them as symbolic figures or as historical, the travelers in Matthew's gospel invite us to be stargazers and star followers; most importantly, they point to the Birth of Light and the scattering of darkness, leading us to where the glory of God shines in the most unexpected of places...
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