A Voyage into Liminal Space by Fran Salone-Pelletier

Readings: Isaiah 60:1-6; Ephesians 3:2-3, 5-6; Matthew 2:1-12

Like the Magi who traveled from the Orient over fields and fountains, moors and mountains, as they sought the babe who would be king, each year we celebrate our own unique journey from the various lands of our origins to the singular wonder of royalty to be discovered and experienced in unexpected abodes. Our journey takes us across multiple obstacles and nearly fatal misdirections even as we seek the guidance of new life.

We have crossed the threshold of time and stepped into a brand-new year. Surprises await our arrival. Sorrows dissipate in the glow of a newly star-brightened night. Sometimes, I wonder our vision is hampered by the fog of dire news—past and presence. The media is replete with revolving mishaps—death-dealing events that blur the light of optimism and diminish the power of faith.

Perhaps my own perspective, usually optimistic, is being eroded by the painful presence of a broken wrist that is also hindering the ease of typing and all manner of other joys and duties once embraced with vigor and delight. If so, I can only attempt to acknowledge the promised healing and find light as I follow the star of confidence that will lead me to an epiphany beyond my dreams, imaginings, or expectations.

Isn’t that a human possibility? Isn’t the star of suffering also the source of our common humanity? Doesn’t the ever-present, fixed, luminous point gleaming in our nocturnal darkness serve as a guide to our destination? Does it not lead us to the reality of new birth?

These are the offerings of life lived to its fullest capacity. They are episodes of epiphany!

We bring to that unique manger the tributes we have gleaned, earned, and saved for sharing as gifts. They are our unique offerings of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. We bring the present of our presence, the splendor and solemnity of our search for truth, mercy, justice, and acceptance as we are, even as we are also involved in the process and progress of becoming perfected. As a result, we see the newness of life itself—a newness that is glowing within the process of ever-present possibilities.

This is so much more than a journey into a new year of life with all of its demands, and commands, joys and sorrows, laughter and tears. It is a lifelong, lifetime experience. It is a long and often difficult process of personal change and development—a voyage into liminal space. Entry introduces us to an incredibly beautiful, unending stepping into the giftedness of grace and hope, gains and losses. All are viewed as the present of presence, divinely offered and freely received.

Acceptance rests as our choice. We can welcome and embrace the challenge—or not. We can receive it graciously or deny it sorrowfully. We can seek advice only to discover that we are being duped by a pretender—someone who is not interested in uplifting himself by serving others. The insincerity might not have been detected if the magi did not trust the direction of a brilliant star lighting their way through the nocturnal darkness.

An interesting commentary by retreat leader Kathy Coffey offers this observation regarding the depth and potency epiphanies can provide, if we embrace them:

At the heart of the Epiphany tableau is a child. The magi follow a seemingly impossible quest, distant star, having no answers, filled with curiosity. Mary and Joseph had no expert advice, they simply relied on God and each other, bumbled through and cherished.

Our own epiphanies are marked by similar qualities: vulnerability, curiosity, playfulness, delight that can spiral into woe. When the disciples argue over ego-driven measures of success, Jesus holds up a child (Matt. 18:3); oblivious to appearances, unguarded, focused on love, eager to learn, filled with wonder. Where are we on that scale of values? Returning puzzled and jet-lagged, did the magi maintain unshakeable joy? Do we?

Do we trust belief in what appears to be incredible? Do we maintain our course until it becomes a clear and present danger—and then dare to trust another way home?

The feast of the Epiphany beckons us to ask ourselves, along with the Magi, this probing question: “Where is the newborn king?” It also asks that we live with one desire, that is, to find the Messiah and give him homage. The question becomes the quest; the desire inspires the decision. Neither is easily accomplished but both are crucial to Christianity.

Christmas is not complete without this journey into the night, following divinity’s light. Christianity is insufficient if it eliminates the quest to give Jesus homage wherever he may be found.

Each of us is called to be an illuminating star in a darkened world. Our luminance will serve to lead others, enlightening them to gather together as brothers and sisters, members of the same body, sharers of an identical promise. Instead of remaining isolated, separated, and rigidly exclusive, they will, we will, recognize our common heritage as co-heirs of God’s kingdom. How could there be any dissension, dismay, or destruction in such a world—a universe of love, joy, and peace?

On the Feast of the Epiphany, we are invited to be magi in the third-millennium world, stalwartly searching, wandering far from our homes, trusting our inner light, and called to return by a different route, to be embraced by the magi mystery. How will we respond? ♦

Fran Salone-Pelletier holds a master’s degree in theology. She is the author of a trilogy of scriptural meditations, Awakening to God: The Sunday Readings in Our Lives, in which a version of this reflection originally appeared. She is also a religious educator, retreat leader, lecturer, and grandmother of four. Reach her at hope5@atmc.net.