In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea,
wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking,
“Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews?
For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.”
When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him;
and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people,
he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born.
(Matthew 2:1-4)

As I’ve shared over the years, Epiphany is one of my favorite festival seasons of the church. I have always been drawn to the drama of the light breaking through the darkness declaring God’s love for all creation and humanity to see. There is something empowering about that ‘God light’ not being contained by a sea of darkness that overwhelms the night sky. The light of Epiphany is God’s ultimate declaration of love and hope for us – even as its illumination rested on the place where the infant Jesus was laid.

But the story of Epiphany is also a reminder of human brokenness – of a time when the cultural and religious powers could not or would not align themselves with the message of God’s imposing light. If anything, the protagonists of that time resisted, resented, and rebelled against that light as it would call into question the power they claimed as their own. That resistance, resentment, and rebellion would pursue, persecute, and ultimately execute the infant as Jesus grew into adulthood.

This unsettling truth about Epiphany serves as a cautionary message for us in 2026 as we consider our role in this continuing narrative of faith. The religious leadership of the first century was unable to receive the light of Christ. For some such as King Herod, the coming of a messiah could mean giving up his political power – something we humans resist doing. Herod was so afraid of losing his power that in his inhumanity, he would have all the infant boys killed. For others in religious leadership, it could mean being open to a completely different understanding of their hopes for salvation and deliverance from the empire of Rome. Afterall, they were waiting for a powerful king with an army to deliver them from the oppressive empire of Rome. Could all their years of studying and faithfulness to traditions and rituals have been wrong or insufficient? Was their waiting for the powerful messiah now embodied by the presence of a vulnerable infant? Losing one’s assumptions can be a cause for deep fear – in this case, the religious leadership would not only reject that messenger, but would have him killed.

Yet even more unsettling about this narrative is the humbling truth about who would respond to the light. They were those on the margins of the powerful and influential cultural norms – foreigners, seekers, shepherds, the Magi. It would be their hearts and minds that were open to a new thing happening in the world around them. That openness would lead them to the Christ child – causing the Magi to pivot and not return to Herod as he had requested. For the shepherds, they became the first evangelists – sharing the songs of the angels. For us, it is a reminder that God will not be bound by our religious and cultural assumptions.

So as we celebrate Epiphany this year, let’s consider where we find ourselves in the narrative? Are our actions framed by the fear of losing a way of life – causing us to more harshly judge or even reject those we do not understand or those who are different from us? Are our decisions based primarily on the seven deadly words of the church, “We never did it that way before” – creating unwelcoming barriers for strangers or seekers when they come through our doors – denying that they might bring with them a new perspective that could possibly bless us all? Has our fear of losing what has been created a kind of paralysis blocking us from what can be?

There is much to ponder as we continue on our spiritual journey through Epiphany. My prayer for us as we bask in the light of hope is that we – like the Magi and shepherds – would allow the unsettling presence of that light to guide us to a new place of resurrection possibilities. May we be a people who embody that light at this moment in history, when fear and despair are as prevalent as they were in the first century. May we as a church be a voice for justice, mercy and the love of Christ as we lean into 2026.