Epiphany homily: recapturing the logic of the gift

The Three Kings, from a Mexican Nativity displayed inside the Vatican, 2025

Homily for the Solemnity of the Epiphany.

Today’s feast, the Epiphany, traditionally was the day for gift-giving in Italy, though that tradition has been somewhat superseded by the arrival of a more aggressive salesman, Santa Claus.  Santa accepts both Visa and Mastercard—and, in some places, American Express—whereas the Magi bartered or traded in old-fashioned gold.

The Magi are still, however, known for their gifts.  Matthew’s Gospel does not give a precise number of Magi, but since it lists three gifts, the Christian artistic tradition has always depicted three Magi—or kings or wise men, depending on how you translate the word for these learned, wealthy, and adventuresome visitors.  Their gifts—gold, frankincense, and myrrh—struck a chord in the Christian imagination, even if most of us would have trouble explaining what exactly you do with myrrh.

Ancient spiritual writers attributed symbolic meaning to their gifts: gold symbolized Christ’s kingship; frankincense—a type of incense used in worship—symbolized his divinity; and myrrh—myrrh again, gave them a little trouble.  Some associated myrrh with virtue or with prayer.  Myrrh is actually very similar to frankincense; both come from the resin—the sap—of desert trees, which makes them rare and valuable.  Both give off distinct smells when burnt.  Frankincense is sweeter, while myrrh gives off bitter notes sometimes described as earthy or somber.  In the ancient near east, myrrh was used to prepare bodies for burial, so the presence of myrrh at Christ’s birth is sometimes interpreted as foreshadowing his passion and death.  Perhaps that explains why myrrh is no longer popular as a Christmas gift today.

But more than the specific gifts of the Magi, this morning I would like to reflect on what a gift is to begin with.  Today our idea of gift-giving is so shaped by Santa Claus—and by Amazon and Black Friday—that we sometimes lose the sense of what a gift meant in the time of Jesus.  And when we lose our grasp of the logic of gift-giving and gift-receiving, we start to have trouble understanding not only today’s feast of the Epiphany, but other parts of our faith as well, like marriage and the Eucharist.  Even our own existence in this world, which we did not create ourselves and did nothing to earn, becomes difficult to understand.

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St. Aloysius Gonzaga and giving God your all: homily for St. Aloysius

St. Mary’s Cathedral, Perth

The readings for our celebration of the life of St. Aloysius Gonzaga tell us to show our love for God by keeping his commandments.  Sometimes people talk about love and the commandments as if there were a contradiction between the two, but Jesus teaches us otherwise.  

For Jesus, love isn’t a feeling.  Don’t confuse love with romance, which can be produced with mood lighting and champagne.  For Jesus, love is life-giving.  God, the creator, first shows his love for us by giving us life.  And Jesus, the Son of God, shows the power and depth of his love by giving up his own life so that we might have eternal life.

But life is a delicate thing.  If you plant a garden, you have to know the right amount of water to give the seeds—too much and they’ll rot, too little and they’ll dry up.  I’ve killed a few houseplants learning this lesson.  If you just leave your garden alone to do whatever it wants, it will soon choke with weeds and die.  Keeping plants alive sometimes requires trimming them.  Nurturing life requires rules.

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