The First Step

A new year brings thoughts of a clean slate, new beginnings, new outlooks, and new promises. I always love hearing what people resolve to do differently -- and then watch how long that lasts. We really aren't that comfortable with change. And boy are we bad at incorporating it into our lives.

Experts (well, at least people who study this kind of thing -- I don't know what would qualify someone to be an expert in change) say that to make something a habit you have to do it 21 times. I'm not sure how accurate that is, but it is interesting to think about what our minds and bodies need to develop new routines or perspectives or commitments.

But sometimes we are changed without trying. Most of the time this is due to some external event which is either catastrophic or so completely compelling that we cannot bear to return to our old way of life. I know people who have quit smoking or drinking or even speeding because of a single event in their lives. It's almost as if they had a "Eureka!" moment, saw the light, and were converted -- no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

These are rare but effective experiences of conversion. And when I think of conversion, I think of the life of the saints, people who, like Paul or Augustine, can pin-point a single incontrovertible "God experience" which turned their hearts toward faith in Him.

But most of us are more like James than Paul. We were born in the faith. We were raised in the faith. And more often than not, we attribute our faith more to comfort or routine or identity than anything else. The trouble is, once faith becomes a routine, it has lost the centrality of its meaning. Faith is about our "Yes" to God and to living out the Greatest Commandment: to love our God with all our heart and all our soul and our mind. It's hard to do that when we compartmentalize faith into one hour on Sunday or find ourselves just going through the motions.

So what do we do about this? Especially now, in this time of year when we envision big, impressive ways to change our lives.

I think that's what today (the Feast of the Epiphany) is about. Today we celebrate the magi tracing the star in the sky to find Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. And boy, the Holy Family must have been surprised to have the magi find them -- they were hanging out in a manger in a field outside a village they didn't even live in. But thanks to the magi's attentiveness to the sky, they were able to recognize the discontinuity in the pattern, the break in the routine, and do something about it.

It's what some people call a "Moses moment," as in when Moses saw the burning bush. The biblical text suggests that Moses was physically drawn to the bush when he says, "I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush does not burn" (Ex. 3:3).

In this instance, God used the burning bush to get Moses' attention. In the case of the Gospel today (Mt. 2:1-12), God uses the star in the sky to draw the magi toward Christ. Last week it was Simeon and Anna who were drawn to Christ in the temple, faithful people who went out of their way to acknowledge God in their midst.

And that's what epiphany means: to appear. God shows up and is made present to us. This is what we call revelation: God's self-communication to us. We treasure its record in Scripture and in the tradition, through the lived experience of the communion of saints.

But the key here is that this epiphany requires something of us. Moses could have walked past the burning bush; the magi could have ignored the star; Simeon and Anna could have been so focused on worship in the temple that they merely missed the Christ child in the crowd. But they didn't. Why?

First, because they were attentive. Watchful. Ready. And open. And even though, as we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany in 2009, we might feel well-removed from the original experience, the ritual of re-reading the story of the magi and sitting with this passage from Scripture urges us to be attentive today.

Second, they were moved to act. And I don't mean in some radical way -- at least at first. Moses just walked over to the bush. This would eventually lead him to liberate the Hebrews from slavery in Egypt, but it just started with a closer look. And a closer look is exactly what the magi wanted, which is why they traveled thousands of miles to the shepherds' fields outside Bethlehem. So whether God's communication of God's self requires a few steps -- or a gigantic journey -- the point is to take that first step.

This is because God's self-manifestation is an invitation to a more intimate relationship. It is not only drawing us towards, but drawing us in. We are called to share in the mystery of the Divine Life, a communion of love. I have written before that God is wildly in love with us and desperately seeks to be in a relationship with us. But this requires us to make use of our free will and enter this relationship. That means being attentive (so as not to miss the invitation), and then taking the first step to get a better look.

It's the start of a life-long journey, one of countless steps. But, as Confucius said, even the journey of a thousand steps begins with just one.

The epiphany is to get our attention, to get us to notice that God IS present. But unless we look for it and take that first step, we'll just keep minding our own business, miss the whole point, and remain content in our mundane routine. And a lot of people do that. Thank God Moses and the magi didn't.