The Underlying Message of the Epiphany
This past Sunday we celebrated the Epiphany - the day Christ was first revealed to the nations, a day that foreshadows the mission for which he became man. And today, on the anniversary of the arrival of the Magi over two thousand years ago, the Epiphany presents a profound lesson for us to reflect upon at the beginning of each new year.
Twelve days after Christ’s birth, the Magi arrive in Bethlehem bearing three symbolic gifts: gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Each reveals something about who Jesus is. Gold honors His kingship and sovereignty. Frankincense - a priestly offering - points to His divine and priestly role. Myrrh, the burial ointment, foreshadows His death. The Magi knew who Jesus was even before meeting him, and they knew that he was born to die.
As Pope St. Gregory the Great explains in his homily on Matthew’s Gospel:
“The wise men brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Gold becometh a King, frankincense is offered in sacrifice to God, and with myrrh are embalmed the bodies of the dead. By their mystic gifts, therefore, they signified Whom they acknowledged…”
Christ is a priest, a prophet and a king destined not only for life but for death. For our salvation.
We sometimes forget that Mary, enlightened above all others by the Holy Spirit (including the Wise Men), knew these scriptures and prophecies even before the Annunciation. Saint Alphonsus Liguori teaches that when she said “fiat” - “let it be done unto me according to thy Word” - she consented to the fullness of God’s revealed prophesies for the Messiah in His Word. That is to say she consented not only to His life but to the suffering and death that would accompany her son’s mission. Her “yes” included saying yes to His offering on the cross, even before she understood exactly how that would unfold.
And in that yes, Mary made an offering to God too. She gave her own flesh to become the flesh of the Savior - the flesh that would ultimately be offered for us. And, she gave her permission for him to be born of her and to die. But, Mary didn’t simply do this once. Her fiat was the disposition of her soul. She placed her heart, her will, and her trust in God’s plan each and every day knowing that her son’s death was always somewhere just around the corner. She both prepared for death and experienced the fullness of life in Christ every moment of her life.
St. Paul teaches us this same truth from another perspective. In his first letter to the Corinthians, he writes that he dies daily. In Colossians, he urges believers to “put to death, therefore, what is earthly in you.” And in Galatians, he reminds us that “those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh.” For Paul, this was not poetic language - it was a way of life. Long before his martyrdom, he had already surrendered himself, day by day, to the slow and sanctifying death that unites us to Jesus and leads to resurrection.
We, on the other hand, often fight death. Despite knowing that our deaths are just around the corner too. We push it out of our minds, tell ourselves “tomorrow,” and numb ourselves to the realities of the flesh and its corruptibility - whether through willful distraction, sin, or outright avoidance. But Christ invites us to walk a different path: to embrace small interior deaths daily as an act of will and an act of love.
What if we took seriously the example of Mary and St. Paul? What if we asked, “Lord, how can I die to myself today and live instead for you?” - not in fear, but in love. If we renounce the small sins of the flesh, if we embrace the crosses of everyday life, each sacrifice becomes a building block of faith - preparing us to stand firm when the final hour comes.
St. Josemaría Escrivá, a saint equally practical as he is mystical, taught that daily mortifications (meaning to make dead) are often small but powerful:
“That joke held on the tip of your tongue; the cheerful smile for those who annoy you; that silence when unfairly accused… the daily effort to overlook one irritating detail or another in the persons who live with you… with perseverance, is indeed solid interior mortification.” (The Way, 173)
He also reminds us to choose mortifications that don’t mortify others - meaning that we must die to ourselves in ways that build up rather than burden those around us.
This kind of daily dying gave Mary strength to stand at the foot of the cross, to witness her Son’s agony and yet remain faithful in love so she could mother the Church. It gave St. Paul the martyr's courage to embrace death with glory and joy. Their daily mortifications became their path to eternal life. After all, they were just living out what Jesus asks of each of us. It is Jesus himself who tells us to take up our cross daily and follow Him (Luke 9:23).
This week, the Epiphany invites us to reflect on how Christ’s birth and death are connected and in doing so to reflect on our own mortality. If you haven’t yet made New Year’s resolutions, perhaps you might include small mortifications - practices like holding your tongue, leaving food on your plate so you remain just a little hungry, doing good works cheerfully when you are exhausted. These small offerings might seem trivial, but each one done with love creates room within your soul that was once filled by you for God to dwell.
So, why not start today? If you do, you will build an abundant life through every little death you face. After all, like Jesus, we are born to die. But, through Jesus we die that we might truly live.
God bless you,
Matt
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Facing Death with Trust and Hope
If you are looking to prepare for death with trust and hope each and every day of your life, we have some wonderful books to help you on the journey.
- St. Josemaria teaches practical ways to offer mortifications now - uniting your life to the Cross of Christ - in his spiritual classic The Way.
- The Afterlife, written by Fr. Dolindo Ruotolo - a man St. Padre Pio called a living saint - walks through Heaven, Hell, Purgatory and the progression of the soul after death through the eyes of the saints and Holy Souls who have seen it.
- Dying without Fear is the bestselling Catholic book to help readers who are facing illness or accompanying others facing death prepare for the last things.