UPDATE - 11:00pm
About an hour ago, we were leaving from a lovely Epiphany dinner hosted by a neighboring pastor. As we were getting into the car, I paused: it sounded like the clippity-clop of horse hooves ringing through the falling snow. Sure enough, an Amish buggy slowly rolled by. You don't normally see them at that hour, especially on a Sunday night...but hey, they've been out visiting for Old Christmas.
The Epiphany of the Lord
the North Country landscape.
But
while we’re getting used
to
seeing their buggies on the road,
most
of us know very little
about the folks at the reigns.
The Amish are
famously private people.
Even if you live right next door
or regularly stop
at one their roadside stands,
it’s difficult to get much sense
of what makes them
tick.
Which
is why my ears perked right up Wednesday morning
to
hear a report on local public radio
about
how our Amish neighbors celebrate Christmas.
While
many of them have also adopted December 25,
today—January
6—is traditionally celebrated
by
conservative Amish communities as “Old Christmas.”
(The
difference in date between our Christmas and Old Christmas
have
to do with reforms made in the calendar centuries ago.)
It’s
a day of rest and a day of fast: no eating before noontime.
But
then there’s a great feast,
topped
off with pie and homemade candy.
There
are no Christmas trees or other decorations.
(After
all, where would they plug in the lights?)
And
if gifts are exchanged,
they’re
usually handcrafted, generally simple, and always useful.
(No
Amish parents go into debt
buying
their kids the latest and greatest!)
For
the Amish, Old Christmas is a visiting day:
a
day for gathering with family and calling on friends.
It
has few of the outward trappings
of
a modern American Christmas,
but
shares something vital at its core:
it’s
a day for being together.
For
the Amish,
the
heart of Christmas is being together.
For
us Catholics (and for many other Christians, too),
today,
January 6—the twelfth day of Christmas—
is
also the traditional date for a great celebration:
the
Epiphany of the Lord.
“Epiphany”
means manifestation or revelation.
And
just what mystery is being unveiled?
That
heaven’s glory has shone upon the earth;
that
the Ruler of all and Rescuer of the poor
rests
a helpless child on his virgin Mother’s knee;
that
the very Son of God has appeared
in our
human flesh.
Epiphany,
you see, is all about being together:
not
merely with neighbors and relatives,
as
the Amish celebrate Old Christmas;
Epiphany
is all about God being together with us.
In
a serious deviation from the original plan,
sin—and
with it, death—had come between God and man.
But
the God who had created us in love and for love
would
not allow the separation to continue.
Since we could not cross that chasm and find our own way back,
Since we could not cross that chasm and find our own way back,
God
came in person to be together with us here and now,
that
we might in turn be together with God hereafter.
That’s
the essential truth which underlies
all
of our soon-to-be concluded Christmas festivities…
…but
a truth which gets buried too often
beneath
the weight of so much tinsel and wrapping paper.
Having—if
you will—this second, far simpler Christmas
gives
us a chance to reflect on what brought
those
treasure-bearing magi to their knees.
Unlike
our Amish comrades,
the
King of kings and Lord of lords
is
not at all standoffish.
Quite
the opposite, in fact:
God
has gone far out of his way to come close to us.
It’s
hard to think of anything more approachable
than
a tiny, vulnerable baby.
And
yet this child, although appearing weak,
has
the power to bring the whole world together.
His
birth was the much-anticipated fulfillment
of
a promise made to a single chosen people,
but
the citizens of every land and nation—
following
in the footsteps of a few star-guided foreigners—
have
come to adore him.
The
day after I heard that piece on the radio,
I
was in the grocery store
and
saw a pair of Amish women checking out the produce.
(For
some unknown reason,
they
seemed particularly interested in watermelon.)
If
I wasn’t feeling just about as shy as they do,
I
might have asked if they were shopping
for
a big dinner with visitors on Old Christmas.
As
we have gathered on this feast of the Lord’s Epiphany—
gathered
here to be fed by him in the Eucharist—
let’s
make sure we observe this as a real “visiting day.”
Like
the magi when reaching their long journey’s goal,
may
we truly be overjoyed
to
recognize that God has visited his people—
and
has remained to dwell among us still.
What
could matter more, really—at Christmas or ever—
than
our being together?
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