Reflection for January 4, 2009

The Solemnity of the Epiphany
Readings:  Isaiah 60:1-6; Psalm 72; Ephesians 3:2-3a, 5-6; Matthew 2:1-12

Today is the feast of Epiphany, and also of Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton. There’s much to ponder in the wonderful confluence of these two feasts. I’d like to start this reflection with a look at the star which figures so prominently in Matthew’s story. What do we know about stars and about this one in particular?

We know that starlight comes from beyond our solar system; that it is an extremely small light against the immense darkness of the cosmos; that it requires the darkness to be seen at all. Early mariners plotted their course at sea using the predictability of the stars to guide them. But this star, our star, was a maverick, a law-breaker.

What, then, of the Magi and their journey? They needed to travel in darkness. And though as primitive scientists they would look for the ordinary and predictable, they were open to the extraordinary. Surprise was as real to them as order. The Magi searched in darkness for the light of truth, and found Jesus, the morning star that never sets, as our liturgy reminds us. They are Matthew’s first witnesses to the all-embracing love God has for all humankind.

And then we have Elizabeth, a woman who risked everything she had to follow her own star, convinced that it would lead her somehow into a larger truth about home, presence, belonging.

First, if darkness is a pre-requisite for seeing light, Elizabeth was well equipped. She knew much about darkness.

She knew the darkness of loss:  parents, husband, two of her daughters, all at tragically early ages. And she knew the loss of certitude as well, when the spiritual world which had comforted and sustained her came crumbling down around her. The Catholic Church was the maverick star Providence provided for her journey into a place where she could, inexplicably, feel at home. And maverick that she was, once she recognized the truth of her new found conviction, Elizabeth allowed nothing to stand in her way to come to that new place of belonging.

Sailing on the high seas, confronted by dangers on all sides, she plotted her own course to what she called the ‘ark of refuge.’ Like the Magi, she allowed herself to be open to the surprises of a God who cannot be contained in the ordinary and predictable.

She walked in darkness and found herself transformed by the light.

She whose experiences of absence were almost constant companions found in the Church the experience of real presence. And this as much as any of the wonderful accomplishments of Elizabeth’s life is enough of a legacy not only to her community but to the people of New York City who rise up today, two hundred years later, and call her blessed.

Reflection by Sr. Mary E. Mc Cormick, SC

Note:  Material about the ‘maverick star’ was taken from The Images of Jesus/ Exploring the Metaphors in Matthew’s Gospel, by Daniel O’Connor and Jacques Jimenez (Winston Press, 1977).