This year, the day of Epiphany, January 6, falls on a Sunday. We have passed the twelve days of Christmas and now move into this season of light, in which we see God manifest in our lives and in the world. The light of the star has guided the three magi to the place of the holy birth, and the light which shines on that stable will now spread to cover the whole earth.

In the orthodox branch of Christianity, the celebration of Epiphany-the word means "manifestation"-was from the earliest days understood as the real feast of Christmas. This day was a more important day than Christmas itself. Our Orthodox brothers and sisters discerned what we would do well to ponder, that is, that the real power of the incarnation, God's coming to live with us on earth as Emmanuel, lies not primarily in the birth but in whether or not the Christ is born in our hearts. The focus, you see, is not to remain on the manger, the babe, the star in the sky, or the three Magi. The focus shifts now to us. To the kind of people we are in our heart of hearts. To how we live our lives. To what we set as our priorities. To our most cherished hopes and dreams.

The question shifts now: Is the incarnation of our God visible in our lives? Do we see his light now in the midst of our normal, ordinary days? Does God's light shine in us so that others see Christ through us and because of us are drawn to faith?

The light shines from this day forward not just from above, but out from deep within our hearts. This multiplication of the light is a wondrous thing. The prophet Isaiah described it in the verses we heard John/Carl read this morning. The prophet is telling of the time when the glory of the Lord returns to Zion after a long period of darkness and despair, a time when justice and peace seemed unattainable. But when the Lord returns, the prophet says, all peoples will see this and become radiant themselves. The light of God will shine from within them and many will be drawn by the beauty of their radiance.

The same dynamic occurs again at the coming of the Messiah to the people who have walked in great darkness. God comes to be close to the people, to bring light, and that very light instantly transfigures those who worship him, so that they themselves are now radiant with the holy light.

You know, there's a lot of talk these days about two movies that have captured the imagination of many: "Harry Potter" and now "The Lord of the Rings." Some pastors are worried that these films will somehow teach children magic and lure them away from religion. One guy in New Mexico has become famous for advocating a book burning of all the Potter books. I think that's ridiculous, though I admit to being envious of all the publicity he received. I give him credit for attracting attention on a slow news day.

However, I for one am not at all worried about Harry Potter's effect on children. Movies are movies and can serve to stimulate our imaginations, but surely, with the love and guidance of Christian parents, there is not magic in them to be feared or avoided.

I am much more concerned that so many of us faithful, practicing Christians can do our darndest to avoid the holy magic of Epiphany and cover up the light that ought to be glowing now within us. God has given us a kind of magic, if you want to use that term, that is more life-changing and powerful than anything Hollywood will ever concoct. Because this is real! This is God-the Holy of Holies, the Ancient of Days, the Creator of all that is and all that will be-this is God, present among us with a face, in a form we can recognize.

This is God within us, giving us life, healing us, setting us free, calling us to follow our dreams. The light is abundantly available to each and every one of us now, and yet we are very skilled at devising all kinds of ways to cover it up. You'd think there was some sort of cosmic power shortage in this world that would make California's problems look trivial. We Christians can too often remain crabby, bitter, stingy, self-centered, fearful, small-minded, vision-less . . . and then complain that the world isn't a better place, that Santa Monica isn't a better city, that this congregation isn't a better church, that our family isn't a better family . . . and wonder why God doesn't do something to fix it.

On this Epiphany Sunday, as we receive signs of God's great gift to us through the sacrament of Holy Communion, let us consider the true gifts we will seek to offer back to the Christ in this New Year. The poet W.H. Auden posed the challenge this way in his "Christmas Oratorio": "to discover how to be truthful now... to discover how to be living now... to discover how to be loving now . . . is the reason we follow this star."

How to be truthful, how to be living, how to be loving... let us search our hearts this morning and reaffirm the reasons we still follow his star. What gifts of our hearts will we offer? Where within us does the light need to shine? What barriers might we remove so that the light might shine bright from deep within us to bring joy and love to people we work and live with? How can we better teach our children about the love of God that is available to them and within each one they meet? How can we shine our light into the dark places of our world? How can the light of God's love shine forth from this congregation so brightly that many will be drawn to its warmth and promise?

Jesus Christ is the light of the world and of our lives. The magi were drawn to him by the light of the star, and in that light they could see past the humble stable and ordinariness of that birth to perceive the inauguration of the Kingdom of God on earth.

They could see with their own eyes and hearts that God was making all things new, starting with them and radiating out to the whole world. God has placed great trust in us, that we who celebrate Christ's epiphany might now live as small epiphanies of the Presence of the living God. May we be radiant, gleaming with hope and joy. Amen.

© Patricia E. Farris, 2002. Permission is given for brief quotation with attribution. All other rights reserved.