Mid-January, and Settling Into Epiphany

Just while I’m getting a “Snow Squall Warning” on my phone — an insistent alarm even — seems like a excellent time to appreciate the often surprising revelations that this season brings.

While seeing a new truth (or an old truth, newly perceived) brings a kind of light, sometimes the nature of that truth can be painful to absorb. We want to be “enlightened” in an uplifting way, but new discoveries are not always kind.

Two Calendars

Let’s start in a calmer tone, with daily rhythms. Being married to an Episcopal priest means, among other things, knowing that the Sierra Club calendar on the wall proclaiming the first month of 2024 is only one of the calendars that matter.

The liturgical one is always hovering in the background, too, even if it’s not hanging in the kitchen for me to go jotting appointments down on it. Owing to the fact that I attended a church service last Sunday, a snowy day, I’m now especially aware that once we round the curve in the year past all the Christmas hub-bub, we’re staying in the season of Epiphany until Lent (showing off here, a little). And, in contrast to any conventional idea we might have about the barrenness of winter, this is a fascinating time when things can really pop.

The Benefits of Going to Church Nearby

Even after my husband texted me about slippery roads, I’m so glad I followed my hunch about joining him over at St. John the Evangelist in Dunbarton (pictured here on a different day). I can count several clear benefits from the morning.

First, I got to hear him preach about the baptism of Jesus, how the heavens were torn open to reveal the Holy Spirit, and what the word “epiphany” is about in a theological context. Miriam Webster offers “a sudden revelation of meaning” and “an appearance or manifestation, especially of a divine being” and continues with “an illuminating discovery, realization or disclosure” as well as “an intuitive grasp of reality.” Take your pick, perhaps?

This is heady stuff and, as you’ll see in a moment, I couldn’t leave it at church.

Second, I enjoyed spending some time with parishioners there, in the lovely room they have for coffee hour. One among them was given a very appreciative send-off, and this highlighted the degree of devotion and service that are often hallmarks of these small congregations.

Third, because I drove behind Rob through the snow on the way home, he was able to glance in his rear view mirror and notice that my right headlight wasn’t working, a problem that got fixed yesterday. I’m counting this one as a benefit of driving to church after the celebrant, who always needs that extra half hour.

Fourth, the sliver of time spent in the pew made me eager to brush up on my own understanding of the whole concept of epiphany — both in the Bible (shaky ground) and in works of literature (more solid terrain). This exploration enlivened the past week, distracting me from the lousy weather.

Back To A Classic I Missed in College

Fresh off a feeling of success — elation, actually — from watching Rob rip through and enjoy BOTH of the novels I gave him for Christmas (The Heaven and Earth Grocery Store by James McBride and Such Kindness by Andre Dubus, III), I was glad to receive his wise suggestion about an author who has always been known for writing “epiphanic” moments.

Recognize him? The glasses may bring John Lennon to mind, but the short hair and blue coat cancel that choice. This is a young James Joyce, born in Dublin in 1882.

I’ve never read Ulysses and my college courses tended way more Elizabethan, but when Rob specifically mentioned the short story collection Dubliners (published in 1914), I had enough memories swirling around in my brain — all that snow falling at the end of “The Dead” in the film version — that I had to find myself a copy. Surprised that the library didn’t have it, I sprung for a “Centennial Edition” at the bookstore.

I was richly rewarded. Such gems! I’ve never been to Ireland, but these stories dropped me into this one particular city and how it must have felt to move through these streets early in the 20th century. Although the Catholic Church (and so many terms associated with it) is a major presence throughout, the kinds of epiphanies that the characters experience are not manifestations of the Divine — no doves appearing in rays of light — so much as they are moments of major shifts in understanding about their own lives.

The story “Araby” — one in particular that Rob recommended to me — is all of six pages long and packed with beautiful imagery. A boy experiences a dramatic change, first feeling both adoration for a neighbor woman whom he sees bathed in light, during winter days, and tremendous excitement and anticipation for an event: “The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me.” (p.22) Because of what he observes when he arrives at the bazaar, however, the enchantment fizzles, and he feels crushed instead.

Not exactly the kind of epiphany we wish for, but alas, the kind that many of us have in fact experienced as we go on living, hoping for the occasional bursts of radiance that can lift our souls.

Keep Going Towards the Good

Today, Martin Luther King’s birthday, we are grateful for his magnificent leadership, fueled as it was by the private epiphanies he must have had throughout his life, concluding in Memphis with the amazing “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop” speech. He never rested in his effort to show us that we could make a more just and beautiful society.

Seeing a simple band of light on a winter morning may not qualify as an epiphany, but it sure can help. What kind of sudden revelations or illuminating discoveries have you had so far this winter, and how are they leaving their marks on you?