Â鶹Éç

Available for over a year

Good morning. The decorated tree bearing a lifetime of memories still sparkles in our living room, but regrettably not for much longer: Christmas officially ended last night and in the Christian calendar today is Epiphany. Enter, stage left, three wise men, whose appearance in nativity plays has apparently been just a bit premature, but I’m happy to leave that to the scholars. Epiphany is worth marking in its own right. The ‘manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles,’ as the ancient words have it, celebrates the conviction that the child in the manger is for the whole of humanity, healing deep divisions, the embodiment of a love which is universal, with no regard for race, tradition, culture or any of the other boundaries which keep people apart. The idea of God choosing to love everyone might seem wishful thinking to many, and plain incredible to people whose lives are being torn apart by war, constricted by poverty, diminished by systems or health issues which leave them struggling. But it’s a central element in this story, and trying to work out what it requires of us might just mean we need to be prepared for our own epiphany. We use the word for a moment of discovery, a sudden and startling insight. A light comes on. A truth dawns. We see things differently, understand as never before. I suspect that’s been true for some people through the horrors of the war in Gaza. They’ve been confronted with stories of Israelis and Palestinians, who’ve lost loved ones through the conflict over the years, reaching out to communities on the other side. They provide medical help, aid supplies and a willingness to work together for peace. It can be costly and much misunderstood. Do they really do such things? Well, yes, they do. It can be an unsettling discovery. From time to time, I come across foster parents who care for children with complex needs. As they share their homes, they often soak up huge amounts of pain, anger and abuse – and they keep on doing it, driven by a commitment to loving and rebuilding broken lives. The lengths they go to are a revelation, an epiphany. It never ceases to surprise and humble me. An epiphany may hit us with dramatic intensity and change us swiftly and radically: it’s how some people find faith for the first time. More often, I sense, the process is much slower, the result of careful rethinking and genuine openness. We’ve no idea what happened to the wise men, but Christians believe they gazed into the face of God. I don’t think anyone can do that and remain the same.