The word “consider” contains within it the Latin word “sidera,” meaning “stars.” With its wise men, strange stars and ominous offerings, the Christian feast of Epiphany bids us note the wonders wrought not only above the stars, but beneath them. Sages see a strange star marking a newly minted family and bestow their mystical gifts. Consider first the greatest Gift, and its Giver.

God chose to progressively reveal Himself to a particular people, forming with them a covenant relationship. Setting aside the existential distance between God and humanity, that people’s rampant infidelities to the twofold “Great Commandment” to love God with all we are and to love our neighbor as ourselves (cf. Deuteronomy 6:4; Leviticus 19:18), made the light shone upon the Israelites seem more like darkness.

Nevertheless, God persisted: the divine Son assumed human nature to offer that nature in Himself to the Father: the literal crux (Latin for “cross”) of salvation history!

The later prophets in that history began to express the people’s hopes for a messiah, an anointed one in the spirit and power of David: a priest who would sacrifice and intercede, a prophet who would speak definitively on God’s behalf, and a king who would care with mercy and direct with justice — and all this not just for Israel, but for the whole world.

In a thrilling passage, the prophet Isaiah envisioned Jerusalem rising in splendor, shining with the Lord’s glory, and guiding potentates and peoples by the light it had received. The natural response to such glorious portrayal, the supernatural response to such divine favor, could only be profound joy and the urge to share the reasons for it. “Thus you shall be radiant at what you see, your heart shall throb and overflow” (Isaiah 60:5).

To justify this abiding delight, we consult Psalm 24:7, which reads: “Lift up your heads, O gates; be lifted, you ancient portals, that the king of glory may enter.” The manger and its animal occupants never could have guessed their Guest, and we can only imagine how their instinct kicked in to console Him.

It happens that Pope Francis (and more locally, Bishop Schlert) opened a special door to inaugurate the jubilee year that Catholics observe every 25 years. The jubilee had an agrarian genesis: Farmers know to give the soil a break to sustain its fertility; Israelites customarily forgave debts and offenses during jubilees to grant new life to wounded relationships.

When people lift their heads to the portals of many Catholic homes around the Epiphany, they may see the following chalk inscription: 20+C+M+B+25. One of our parishioners thoughtfully printed out copies of the inscription on card stock.

The current year bookends the traditional names of the “three kings” or wise men: Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar. These initials also happen to spell out a Latin benediction: “Christus Mansionem Benedicat (May Christ bless this house).” Let the King of glory enter in!

It is true that Christian joy does not garner universal and unconditional support: “When King Herod heard this, he was greatly troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.” The very people destined to bring the Messiah into the world, failed to recognize Him. Meanwhile, the storehouse of natural wisdom, the East, journeyed for miles to see Him, as Saint Matthew recognized from Isaiah’s prophecy.

Herod asked the Magi to disclose the location of this newborn King of the Jews, whom he viewed as a threat to his flimsy function in the land. His expressed intention thinly veiled his viciousness: “That I too may go and do Him homage.” He wanted to do Him in! Fortunately, the men got wise by an angel’s advice, and the King stayed around long enough to bring continued disturbance wherever needed, then and now.