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| The Gothic-style church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome, Italy |
Homily: The Epiphany of the Lord – Cycle B
The church in which we are worshiping
today is of the style of architecture known as “Gothic Revival”, which was an
architectural trend in the 19th and early 20th centuries
focused on recovering the Gothic style of church architecture. Gothic architecture grew out of the high
middle ages, beginning in France in the 12th century and lasting
into the 16th century. It
grew out of the dominant style of architecture at the time, which was
Romanesque architecture: so named because it was influenced by the
architectural style of the Romans at the height of the Roman Empire. Romanesque architecture was characterized by
broad, relatively short, and strong buildings with thick pillars and comparatively
little natural light.
Gothic architecture changed that
paradigm by beginning to stretch ceilings higher, while making naves (the main
part of the church) narrower and longer.
Pillars became more slender and walls (now much taller) began to be
filled with windows of beautiful colored glass, which let in an abundance of
natural light. While Romanesque
architecture was meant to give the person entering a sense of solidity and
permanence (a great theme of the Roman Empire), Gothic architecture was meant
to give the person entering a sense of lightness and grandeur. The Romanesque would invite you to look
forward and around with strong confidence.
The Gothic would invite you to look up with a longing to leave the earth
and enter into the heavenly heights.
(This idea, by the way, is why the ceiling of nearly every Gothic-style
church was originally painted blue with stars: to attract the eye upward,
towards the heights of heaven.) The Gothic
style of architecture was developed, it seems, to remind Christians to keep
their eyes on what was most important: that is, on heavenly things. This, perhaps, was also a reason for its
revival in the 19th century.
Today’s feast of the Epiphany of the
Lord celebrates those who kept their eyes on heaven—and on heavenly things—and
so received the grace of the revelation of Christ. It also celebrates something that is often
overlooked, I think: that God raised a star so that EVERYONE might know that
the Messiah—the Christ of God—had been born.
This is a homily in itself—how God has used (and still uses) all of
creation to reveal himself to mankind, going to such great lengths as to create
a new star so that the birth of his Son would not be missed—but it is a homily
for another day. Today, we remember that
God had raised a star so that EVERYONE would know that the Messiah had been
born and yet that NO ONE was paying attention, except, it seems, these “magi
from the east”.
The fact that no one else was paying
attention is apparent when the Magi arrive in Jerusalem and inquire about the whereabouts
of the newborn king and King Herod and all of his court officers, the chief
priests and the scribes, and all the people are caught unawares. I imagine the response: “We saw his star at
its rising…” “What star? Do you
know what they’re talking about?”
These were the ones who (supposedly) were looking for the Messiah’s
coming and who should have been the first to recognize the star. As it turns out, however, they had their eyes
fixed on the earth (that is, on worldly things) and so they all missed it.
The lesson for us today, therefore, is
two-fold. First: God will go to great lengths
to reveal himself to us (even to creating a new star!). Second: If we are too focused on earth and on
worldly things (and concerns), then we’ll miss God’s clear sign completely. In Antigua Guatemala, where I first studied
Spanish, I remember this moment: I had been there for a number of weeks already
(maybe five or so) and I was walking through the streets to a church that I
regularly visited. Now all of the
properties are pretty much walled-off at the street, but are often open spaces
inside the walls in which, many times, the owners have elaborate gardens. That day, as I was walking by what had become
a familiar stretch of streets, out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of
this slender and very tall evergreen tree towering above a particular
property. I remember thinking “When did
that get put there?” I was certain that
I had never seen it before, but just as certain that it had to have been there
the whole time and that I had never looked up to see it. Well, from that day on, I intentionally
started looking up and around above the wall line to see what I had been
missing. It was a lot! By simply keeping my head focused on street
level—that is, focused on my worldly concern of getting to where I was going—I was
missing a lot. We are often like this in
our lives—our heads focused on street level and on the things that we need to
accomplish today. Today’s feast,
therefore, is a reminder to “look up” often so that we don’t miss the signs God
may be sending to us (something that a Gothic-style church can help us do:
especially if it has retained its vibrant blue ceiling).
Yet, there is still more that we must
remember on this feast. You see, there
are people coming to us because they have seen a “new star” in their lives
(that is, a sign from God calling them to move in a new direction, towards the
Church) and when they come they are asking us: “Where do I find the one for
whom the star was made?” Too often,
however, we respond like Herod and his people: “What star? Did you
see a star?” This is a great
failure; because God is relying on us to point them to Christ: especially
Christ in the Eucharist.
And even further: There are those whom
we encounter who are so focused on the earth and worldly things (and concerns)
that they will never see the “new star” on their own. These we must help to raise their eyes to the
heavens, so that they too may see the star and realize that, ultimately, all
that we do in this world must move us to find the one for whom the star was
made and, just as we have done for them, to lead others to do the same. My friends, this is the meaning of
Epiphany. This is the reason that our
church (like many others) is built the way it is. This is the task given to each one of us.
And so, let us pray the holy “magi
from the east”—whom our tradition names Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar—be for
us an example and our guide so that the light that shines forth from this
Eucharist will be seen by all; and the prophecy of Isaiah that “all nations
will stream toward it” will find its completion in us: God’s Holy Church.
Given
at All Saints Parish: Logansport, IN – January 7th, 2018
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