Epiphany: “We Have Seen His Star”

The Church, in her wisdom, does not allow the great mysteries of our faith to fade into memory. She places them before us again and again year after year so that what God has done for our salvation may be celebrated, safeguarded, and believed more deeply. Today, on the Solemnity of the Epiphany, we rejoice in one of those mysteries: the manifestation of Jesus Christ to the nations – the day when Christ is revealed not only to Israel but to the whole world.

The Gospel tells us simply: “We saw His star at its rising and have come to do Him homage.” But behind this simple sentence lies a profound truth about who Jesus is and who we are called to become.

Epiphany tells us something essential about who Jesus is and central Christian truth: Jesus Christ is true God and true Man. He is not only born in Bethlehem for Israel alone but revealed to the whole world. The Child of Mary is the Savior of all people, of every nation, language, and culture. And at the heart of this feast lies a truth we must never forget: Jesus Christ is true God and true Man.

The Magi from the East stands before us today as witnesses to that truth.

They are not members of the chosen people. They do not belong to the covenant of Abraham. They are seekers men who watch the heavens, who read the signs of creation. And yet, God meets them where they are. A star appears. Creation itself begins to preach. As St. Leo beautifully says, “what human words could not yet explain, the heavens proclaimed.”

But notice this: the star alone was not enough.

The Magi arrive in Jerusalem, expecting to find the newborn King in the royal city. They are sincere, but mistaken. And here we learn something very important for our own faith. Sincerity alone does not lead us to Christ. The Magi needs Scripture. They need the Word of God, interpreted within the people of God. Only when the prophecy of Micah is proclaimed “And you, Bethlehem, are not the least…”do they know where to go.

Creation leads them part of the way. Scripture completes the journey.

That is how faith works. We need both: the signs of God’s presence in the world, and the revealed Word entrusted to the Church.

And so, the Magi continues. They persevere. They do not turn back when the road becomes unclear. And finally, they arrive not at a palace, not at a throne, but at a house, where they find a Child with Mary His mother.

Here is the great paradox of Epiphany.

The One whom the star announces as King of the universe is a helpless Child. He cannot speak. He cannot defend Himself. He looks like any other human infant. And yet, the Magi fall down and worships Him.

Why?

Because they see more than appearances. They believe what God has revealed.

They offer gold, because He is King.
They offer frankincense, because He is God.
They offer myrrh, because He is mortal destined to suffer and die.

This is not sentimental devotion. This is profound faith.

St. Leo the Great reminds us that the Magi did not adore Christ because of what they saw with their eyes, but because of what they believed in their hearts. They confess, in that small Child, the full mystery of the Incarnation: the eternal Son of God has truly taken our flesh.

And this is where the Epiphany becomes very serious.

From the earliest centuries, the Church had to defend this truth against dangerous errors. Some like Docetism and Manichaeism, claimed that Jesus only appeared to be human that His body was an illusion, a kind of divine disguise. They argued that God could not possibly take on real flesh, could not truly be born of a woman, could not truly suffer or die.

But the Church firmly rejected these claims, because if Christ did not truly become human, then He did not truly redeem us. An illusion cannot heal what is real. A phantom cannot save fallen humanity. The Gospel proclaims not a symbolic incarnation, but a real one: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

If Christ did not truly take our humanity, then we are not truly saved.          If His flesh was not real, then His suffering was not real.
If His suffering was not real, then the Cross has no power.
If the Cross has no power, then our sins are not forgiven.
And if Christ is not truly risen in the flesh, then our hope is empty.

And this truth does not end at Bethlehem or on Calvary—it reaches its fullness at the altar. The same Lord who took flesh in the womb of the Virgin Mary now gives that same flesh to us in the Holy Eucharist. If Christ’s humanity were not real, then the Eucharist would be only a symbol. But because He truly took our flesh, He can truly give Himself as food for the life of the world.

The Child whom the Magi adored is the same Lord we receive at this altar. The hands that once held the infant Jesus are echoed in the hands that lift the consecrated Host. The Body born in Bethlehem is the Body offered on the Cross, and the Body given to us in Holy Communion.

This is why the Church insists so firmly on the truth of the Incarnation: because our salvation is not an idea, but a Person; not a theory, but a sacrament. In the Eucharist, Christ does not merely remind us of His love, He makes Himself truly present, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity, so that by receiving Him, our humanity may be healed, strengthened, and transformed.

This is the good news of Epiphany. God does not save us from a distance. He saves us from within.

Now the Gospel presents another figure: King Herod.

He hears the news, knows the prophecies, yet instead of joy, he feels fear; instead of worship, he plots violence.

Why?

Herod sees Christ as a rival, another earthly king, and cannot imagine a kingdom beyond his control.

The Magi show us the opposite. They are not threatened, they are transformed. They kneel, offer their gifts, and return home by a different path.

Epiphany asks us the same question:

Do we approach Christ like Herod, with fear and control, or like the Magi, with trust, worship, and openness to change?

Epiphany is not only about something that happened long ago. It is about what continues to happen today.

Christ still reveals Himself.

He reveals Himself in the Scriptures.
He reveals Himself in the Church.
He reveals Himself in the poor and the stranger.
And most powerfully, He reveals Himself on the altar in the Eucharist.

The same Jesus whom the Magi adored in Bethlehem is present here. Still humble. Still hidden. Still inviting worship.

And our response must be clear: hold fast to the true faith, avoid error, but never abandon charity. We reject falsehood, but we pray for those who are misled. We trust that as long as life remains, conversion is always possible.

Dear brothers and sisters, let us ask for the grace of the Magi:

the grace to seek Christ faithfully,
the humility to kneel before Him,
and the courage to go home changed.
May we never lose sight of the star that leads us to Jesus.
May we never doubt that the Child of Mary is our Lord and our God.
And may our lives, like the gifts of the Magi, become offerings worthy of Him.