Epiphany (A)
The stranger who sojourns with you shall be to you as the native among you, and you shall love him as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God. – Leviticus 19:34
A few days ago, I read an article by a young man with cerebral palsy. In it, he told the story of his painful struggle at Mass when the priest asked everyone to hold hands before beginning the Our Father. His life is already very challenging as it is. He comes to Mass, and has to battle his afflictions in such a way at that moment that he can barely focus on the words of the Our Father that he prays. No one else at this Mass has to deal with such anguish, nor is anyone doing anything to even meet this young man halfway.
Not long before this, I came across a YouTube video of a high school graduation ceremony. The high school principal tells the gathering that a young man with autism, who is highly sensitive to noise, is going to receive his diploma. The principal asks everyone to be as quiet as possible for the sake of the young man with autism. They comply, in an amazing way. The young man comes out, holding his ears. Even the small amount of noise that is still present hurts him. But the community has met him halfway. He can receive his diploma like everyone else.
Which of these communities was obedient to the Father’s will?
The second. It’s a no-brainer.
In the first example, we see a ritual action (the holding of hands at the Our Father) which isn’t in the text of the Mass itself. The holding of hands isn’t bad in itself. But notice what it does in this case. It makes the young man with cerebral palsy more aware of his disability. It makes him feel like less of a Catholic at the very moment when the community is proclaiming their oneness before the Father and their commitment that “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven”. It ignores the teaching of St. Paul in I Corinthians, which he gives in the context of our unity in Christ, as His Body, and our unity in the Eucharistic table:
Indeed, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are all the more necessary, and those parts of the body that we consider less honorable we surround with greater honor… God has so constructed the body as to give greater honor to a part that is without it… that the parts might have the same concern for one another. If one part suffers, all suffer with it; if one part is honored, all the parts share its joy. – I Corinthians 12:22-26
In the second example, at a public high school, St. Paul’s teaching is enacted. All are willing to symbolically ‘suffer’ with the autistic graduate by choosing to be as quiet as possible. All honor this ‘weaker’ part of their student body with greater honor. All share the autistic graduate’s joy.
How does this relate to this feast of the Epiphany?
The word Epiphany means ‘manifestation’. In the newborn Christ, God is manifested in the flesh. And what is one of the signs of this manifestation – that God’s Messiah has truly come? It is the gathering of the nations, as the prophets of old had foretold. In the Magi, we see the beginnings of this. These Magi, strange visitors from a distant land, with strange language, clothing and gifts, come to honor the newborn King. They are welcomed. They have a place with Christ and everyone else who believes in Him.
This gathering, however, is not merely for those who are literally from other nations. It is for all the scattered children of Israel. Jesus, in His ministry, constantly reaches out to the poor, the disabled, the seriously ill, those broken by great sins, and others who are overlooked or shunned by their communities. Jesus means to gather all of His Father’s scattered children into one fold, under one Shepherd.
Jesus’ disciples do the same. Saint Paul, for example, declared that “I have become all things to all… in order to win over at least some of them”. What does he mean but that he is ready to welcome people as they are so that they might better hear and experience the Good News of Christ? What does his teaching about eating meat sacrificed to idols mean but that Christians need to be attuned to the more sensitive consciences and natures of some of their sisters and brothers, so as to encourage their faith journey and not put unnecessary roadblocks in front of it?
This calling to bestow greater welcome, greater honor, upon our weaker members remains with us today. It cuts across all of the ways we may feel divided against one another. Here are a few examples. If I am a liberal Catholic, do I welcome the unborn? I, too, was once unborn. If I am a conservative Catholic, do I welcome the immigrant? My ancestors were also immigrants. If I am an older parishioner, do I welcome younger families by being patient with them if a baby is crying or a toddler is fussing? I was once young, too.
How do we welcome the disabled among us? Those who may have unusual needs or sensitivities? Do we reach out in a special way to them, to bestow on them greater dignity, so that they may feel like our equals in Christ?
Let’s go back to our first example. If the priest and/or community knew that they had a member with cerebral palsy, they should have dropped the holding of hands ritual so as not to exclude that member, but should make sure that their liturgy puts up no unnecessary roadblocks to that member. If some members are very sensitive to noise, then the musicians should keep this in mind, and the sound system should be adjusted as needed. If some members are overly sensitive to certain smells, then the rest could refrain from putting on any strong perfumes or other fragrances. If a member is awkward in social settings, that should be honored in that the member is given space and quiet and only as much socializing as that member can handle.
Whenever any parish or other community is dealing with this challenge, they should ask themselves, “Who is included by what we normally do? Who, if anyone, is excluded, even unwittingly, by what we do?”
We may assume that, just because a practice has been going on for a long time, that it must be perfectly fine. Or, we may assume that the latest idea must be the best. Neither is necessarily true. Which practices best enact our mission to gather the nations and to gather all God’s scattered children into His Church? Which practices put roadblocks in the way? By roadblocks, I am not referring to teachings of the Church or the parts of the Mass or other things we are not authorized to edit as Catholics. I am referring to things we do besides this – attitudes, other little ‘rituals’ that get added, local traditions, the way our churches are physically set up, and so forth.
We also forget that much of the New Testament is also a critique of the early Christian communities who were still living according to the flesh in some way or another and not being entirely faithful to the new life they now had been given in Christ. The same is true for our Catholic communities today. We need an openness to the possibility that we, too, haven’t gotten it all right just yet. We, too, may be reaching out to only some people while excluding others because they seem different or less than we are. On this Epiphany, may the light of the Lord shine brightly upon us! May it shine through us to others, as they see how we reach out to and accommodate, whenever possible, all of our weaker members. For the Lord who commanded the ancient Israelites to have a special care for the little ones of their own day – the orphan, the widow, and the foreigner – is the same, yesterday, today, and forever.