Feast of Epiphany 2025
It’s often given as a gift — for a child, a spouse, or in memory of someone who has died. Whether it’s officially recognized or not, the reason people do it is pretty clear. We want someone’s life to shine. We want them to be remembered. We want their light not to disappear into the darkness.
On the Feast of the Epiphany, the Church reminds us that God has already done something far more beautiful.
He doesn’t name a star after us.
Through baptism, He names us as His own — and calls us to shine.
Epiphany draws our attention upward — to a star.
Not a king.
Not an angel.
Not even a voice from heaven.
Just a star.
And yet that star was enough to set three wise men on a journey that changed their lives forever. They tell us why they came:
“We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.”
That star didn’t end the journey.
It began it.
Isaiah helps us understand why this matters:
“Darkness covers the earth, and thick clouds cover the peoples;
but upon you the Lord shines, and over you appears his glory.”
Epiphany does not deny the darkness. It names it. The world of the Magi knew fear, violence, and uncertainty — just as our world does. But God does not wait for the darkness to disappear before revealing His light.
He shines into it.
Now notice something important about the star.
It never points to itself.
It never demands attention.
It simply points the way — to Bethlehem, to a child, to Christ.
That’s why the star is such a powerful image for what it means to be baptized.
At our baptism, each of us was handed a candle lit from the Easter flame and told:
“Receive the light of Christ.”
And then came the responsibility:
Keep this light burning brightly.
In other words, don’t hide it. Don’t hoard it. Let it shine.
In a very real sense, through baptism, w
e are called to become like the star —
not the source of the light, but reflectors of it.
Isaiah says it clearly:
“Nations shall walk by your light.”
Saint Paul reminds us that this light is not meant for a few, but for everyone:
“The Gentiles are coheirs, members of the same body.”
Epiphany is the declaration that Christ is revealed to all, and that His light now shines through His people.
Here’s the truth of our time:
Most people today are not searching the sky for signs of God.
They are watching people.
They are watching how Christians live.
How we speak.
How we love.
How we forgive.
How we remain hopeful when life is hard.
Very often, someone finds their way to Jesus because someone else reflected His light — quietly, faithfully, consistently.
A parent.
A grandparent.
A friend.
A teacher.
A neighbor.
Someone who never preached a sermon — but lived one.
Someone who was a star.
The Gospel ends with a small but telling detail:
After encountering Jesus, the Magi “departed for their country by another way.”
An encounter with Christ always changes the route.
And when we live our baptism — when we let Christ’s light shine through us — we are changed as well. Our priorities shift. Our path looks different. We don’t go home the same way we came.
The star didn’t speak.
It didn’t argue.
It didn’t force anyone to follow.
It simply stayed visible in the darkness.
On this Feast of the Epiphany, we rejoice that Christ is the light of the world.
And we ask ourselves:
Will we let that light shine through us,
so that others, searching like the Magi,
might find their way to Jesus?
Amen.
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