When my daughter was younger, perhaps around six, one of the neighborhood schools contracted to have a mural painted on side of the building that faced the street. This school happened to be on the street that my daughter and I drove daily back and forth on the way to Grandma’s house, so we saw the progression of the painting of this mural. The mural was a large Native American scene dominated in the center by a Native woman holding her child. The woman was dark with braided hair, the baby swaddled tight in a fur-covered wrap. As the months went by, the mural came to life with color. However, the center of the scene, this woman and child, remained drawn but unpainted for weeks on end. While color flourished across the wall, the center remained half done. Finally, my daughter from the back seat of the car said in an exasperated voice, “When are they going to finish painting Mary and Jesus?!”
I did not correct her. Maybe I should have in the name of 
literalism, in the name of political correctness, in the name of interfaith or ecumenical relationship. Instead, I only smiled and said not a word. Her six-old-mind with her six-year-old experiences told her that a mother lovingly holding her baby painted on the side of a building was Mary and Jesus. And in that moment, her words told me that the sacred love between the God-Bearer and God could be laid upon and lived out in all relationships. Mary and Jesus was a symbol, really, for the unconditional, holy relationship desired by our Creator. We enter the season of Epiphany with the reality – and the magnificent impact – of what the word means – “an appearance or manifestation of a divine being”, and more literally in the Christian Church, “the commemoration of the coming of the Magi as the first manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles.”
If we could only see the manifestation of the divine in all we cast our eyes upon, what would this world look like? In the midst of darkened days, we adjust our perception. If I can look at brokenness and see beauty, if I can look at suffering and seek love, then I am moving in the right direction – the direction towards the star of the Magi, pointing and drawing us towards the Christ, towards the one who’s Love covers and embraces all.
As you know, I will be traveling to Jerusalem this month, a land where I imagine the manifestation of the divine is easily found. It is also a land torn by violence, pain and extreme conflict. In many ways, the early stories of Jesus’ life echo in the winds of Israel today; the killing of the innocents in the midst of Christ with us, the darkened and dangerous days as the entry place of God. When there, just as here, I will seek to adjust my perception to witness the appearance of God, even (or most especially) in the torn fabric of relationship.
As we move through this new calendar year, let each of us spend our days of Epiphany looking for the manifestation of the divine in all we encounter.
~Lori+