Yesterday was Epiphany.  The "last gasp" of the Christmas season, Epiphany (a word meaning, literally, the manifestion of a divine being), reminds us of the faith of a group of travelers from Persia in the Zoroastrian and biblical prophecies which they had encountered in their studies.

     After much examination of these texts, these magi ("wise" men) concluded that the world was on the precipice of a momentous event:  the birth of a new king.  And, they understood, this king would be unlike any other.  In contrast to other royalty, this king would emerge from humble circumstances, a stable outside Bethlehem, a tiny and forgettable village in southern Palestine.
     This king would be, these scholars realized, human and divine.  In him, the magi saw, God would really come to earth.  Small wonder that they made the arduous journey over the Zagros Mountains, across the arid expanse of Arabia, and onto the international trade routes that coursed through the Levant.  Who would have imagined such a thing?
     And that's the point:  who would have imagined God would be born as a human being?
     But he was.  Epiphany demonstrates that only when we let inklings of the divine into our hearts will we understand what the world is really all about.