The Epiphany of Notre Dame – Epiphany of the Lord Solemnity – Sermon by Father Levine

Fr. Joseph Levine; Holy Family Catholic Church and Missions, Burns, Oregon; January 5, 2025

Epiphany, the manifestation of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, to the Gentiles, is the promise of hope. The Magi are the first fruits of a long line of believers in Jesus Christ, throughout the centuries, coming not from the Jews, but from all the nations of the world. The worship they rendered in Bethlehem represents the worship we offer today in the holy sacrifice of the Mass.

Epiphany is the promise of hope, but we want to make sure that our hope is rightly founded. Hope is not mere optimism.

One major item in religious news towards the end of the year just past was the reopening of Notre Dame of Paris, which had been closed since the fire in April 2019. I must say I was rather ambivalent. The original cathedral was a monument to the faith that built it; the burnt out hulk seemed to be a sign of the public presence of the Catholic faith in today’s world; the scandal of the Paris Olympics last year shows that nothing has really changed in that regard; the restoration of the cathedral was not the fruit of faith, but, ironically, a tribute to human artistic achievement and the “cultural heritage” of France.

Contrariwise, the original construction of Notre Dame, all the artistic skill involved, was not about human achievement. The builders of Notre Dame did not set out to build an architectural wonder or establish a cultural monument for future generations; nor even was the building meant merely as an expression of their faith. The building was not about them at all but was built for the glory of God. The names of the architects have been lost to history.

Notre Dame was originally built as a chorus in stone and stained glass, joined to the armies of angels singing, “Glory to God in the highest.” The whole edifice indeed was built to house the celebration of the holy sacrifice of the Mass, in which the “Glory to God in the highest” is but an introduction to the great miracle of transubstantiation, the conversion of the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ, the Lord of angels, offered in sacrifice as the perfect worship; this is the very same Body the birth of which occasioned the original angelic hymn of praise. All the great splendor of the cathedral revolves around something so simple as a little bit of bread and wine, not enough even for an ordinary meal, but through what it becomes more than enough to feed the souls of men.

Well, the reopening of the cathedral means that Mass is once again celebrated in Notre Dame, but one might wonder if the number of tourists exceeds the number of worshippers.

The cornerstone of the cathedral was first laid in 1163 AD and the church was consecrated in 1182. The cathedral was in its heyday during the reign of St. Louis of France, who reigned from 1226 to 1270. It is fitting to remember the original Notre Dame and the reign of St. Louis on the Feast of Epiphany, because the promise of Epiphany was in some way fulfilled in that time. St. Louis was a king from among the Gentiles, who like the Magi, worshipped Christ above all. Worshipping Christ, his kingdom became something like a sacrament of Christ’s kingdom. The cathedral was not merely some cultural inheritance, but the living heart of the kingdom.

The words of today’s Psalm found some measure of literal fulfillment.

St. Louis was a king who ruled God’s people with justice and his afflicted ones with judgment. Indeed, he personally served Christ in the poor, waiting the table for them before taking his own meal. First of all, though, he was as one of the Kings of Tarshish who paid homage to Christ the King. Right worship, in the splendor of the gothic cathedrals, administration of justice, and service of the poor were all united in his reign. In St. Louis’ kingdom we see an example of a nation walking by the light of Christ, a king walking by his shining radiance, making their pilgrim way to the eternal kingdom.

The faith that built Notre Dame, the faith of St. Louis, the faith that once defined France, “the eldest daughter of the Catholic Church”, no longer thrives publicly in the world today. Pope St. John Paul II, in 1980, preaching in France, asked, “France, eldest daughter of the Church, have you been faithful to your baptismal vows?” (Homily, June 1, 1980, Airport of Le Bourget) He could well ask Catholics around the world the same question today: “Have you been faithful to your baptismal vows? Have you brought due worship to God through Christ, in public and private? Have you loved and acted in justice? Have you served the poor? Have you upheld the dignity of marriage? Have you stood up for the life of children in their mother’s womb? Or have you been swept away by the current of the culture of death, pursuing the prosperity of this world?”

Faith in the world today lives in the Kingdom of Herod. For those who are far off there are signs to be seen, which if recognized will lead to the feet of Christ the King, but it seems that few take heed and set out on the spiritual journey. In the Church, the word of God is found, but, even so, many seem to prefer the service of Herod to the practice that will lead to the feet of Jesus and Mary.

Notre Dame was an Epiphany in stone that arose from the hearts of the faithful, hearts that had had received, like the Magi, the manifestation or Epiphany of Christ, born in Bethlehem. The light passes from Christ, by way of words and signs, sacraments, to the hidden depths of the soul; there the mustard seed is planted and sprouts and in due time brings forth new outward manifestations or Epiphanies, capable of reaching even to public splendor, even to a truly renewed “Notre Dame”.

What once was can be once again, but the renewal begins in the heart. The cathedral must be built in the heart before it can be built in stone. The door is open for us and no one can shut it because Christ himself has opened it. (cf. Rev 3:7-8)

Rise up in splendor, Jerusalem … Darkness covers the earth and thick clouds cover the peoples but upon you the Lord shines.

The Lord shines on Jerusalem, the Jerusalem of the Church and the Jerusalem of the soul. The Lord shines in the hidden life of grace, the life of the soul, which is also the life of the Church. We do not now see the radiant splendor of the soul in the grace of God, given to us; if we did, the beauty would melt our hearts. At most what we see is a dim outward reflection of the interior beauty in deeds of holiness and kindness, mercy and truth.

A cup of water given out of human kindness is just that, but when that simple act of kindness proceeds from the mystery of grace it becomes an act that for all its simplicity bears the divine majesty, like the little child in the manger. Think of St. Theresa of Calcutta giving a cup of water.

The hidden reality of grace is not our work, but God’s work, realized in us through the sacraments. The simple accomplishment of the essential rite realizes the effect of the sacrament, but the nobility of the celebration, the beauty of the ceremonial and furnishings, and the dignity of the church all signify the interior splendor that is hidden beneath the simplicity, the pouring of the water or the appearances of bread and wine.

There is a modern fashion that wants to portray Bethlehem in the starkness of its poverty. There is something to be said for that because we need to remember the poverty that the Son of God chose for himself on entering into this world, poverty that reveals the true value of all the things we heap up for ourselves.

Even so, the great follower of Christ’s poverty, St. Francis of Assisi, like the Magi, sought nothing but the best for the worship of God. As for artistic representation there is a more ancient custom that seeks through the royal dignity of the representations to show forth rather the glory hidden in the earthly life of Jesus and Mary and hidden in the life of grace in which we share. This is the glory that was briefly manifested in the Epiphany by the star and by the visit of the noble Magi with their splendid gifts; this is the glory that would shine forth in the Transfiguration.

The glory awaits us, but we must be willing to make the short trip from Jerusalem to Bethlehem. Through our baptism and our faith, we are already, at least, in Jerusalem. The journey begins in prayer and the cultivation of the interior life of grace through the devout reception of the sacraments. The journey requires going from hearing the word to putting it into practice in all the little things of daily life. It also means passing from hearing the word to recognizing the mystery and bowing in homage, in sincerity and truth. We must pass from the word to the reality by way of practice and by way of worship, the two are inseparable.

The little things of every day are like the Infant in the manger, but we must also bow in homage, recognizing the divine majesty of the Son of God. We must also become like that Infant in our trust in God and innocence of life, caring for and protecting also the innocence of children.

2025 is the Jubilee Year of Christ’s birth. Holy doors have been opened in Rome. Traditionally, jubilee years have been occasions for pilgrimages, in imitation of the journey of the Magi, pilgrimages to holy places like Rome, Jerusalem, or Bethlehem. The outward pilgrimage to the holy place is itself meant to be a sign of the interior pilgrimage of the heart, a journey to God through conversion, repentance, and the forgiveness of sins. Jubilee years are thus times of more abundant mercy. They remind us that even if so far we have flagged or failed in our life’s pilgrimage that it is not too late to resume the journey, the door of mercy remains open for us.

The outward pilgrimage is a sign of the interior pilgrimage of the heart, the destination of which is the heavenly Jerusalem, the true holy place, eternal life in God.

St. Louis, in the end, was a failure in this life. He failed twice to complete the pilgrimage to Jerusalem, to honor the holy places of Jesus’ birth and death. His pilgrimages were Crusades, armed pilgrimages, because opposed by hostile forces. He died on the sands of Tunisia and his death brought an end to his second Crusade. Nevertheless, through his death, united to Christ, St. Louis reached the goal of his life’s pilgrimage and reached the glory of the heavenly kingdom.

The passage from the earthly to the heavenly kingdom is perhaps signified in the Magi in their departing to their country by another way. For after bowing in homage before the Infant in the manger, their country was no longer their place of origin on this earth, but the Father’s house in heaven; the way was no longer the means of conveyance by which a man passes from one place to another in this world, but had become Jesus Christ, the way, the truth, and the life, (Jn 14:6) a way on which we travel by the footsteps of desire and the practice of virtue, following him on the way of the Cross, through the door of death, to the life of the resurrection.