In the Godly Play story of Epiphany, we remember that the Magi were late to the manger scene. They were so late, that by the time they followed the star all the way to the Christ child, the baby Jesus wasn’t a baby anymore. Even though we include the Magi, the wise men, in our Christmas eve pageants, welcoming them to the stable with everybody else, they actually come two or three years later and find them at home, in their house.
So while we might see paintings that show the Magi kneeling before a beatific scene of holiness and serenity, gazing on the sleeping infant in the stable, the reality would be more like this:
They come looking for a new king, and find instead, a two year old: “God: the toddler edition”.
The word Epiphany means: an appearance, or a revealing, or a manifestation of God. We commonly use the word epiphany to mean an “a-ha!” moment, when suddenly something we puzzled over becomes beautifully clear. Today, we remember the mystery that the Magi, on seeing Jesus, recognize in him, not just a new king, but the very reality of God.
And while that might be easy to see in a peacefully sleeping baby, it might be a lot harder to recognize in a toddler. Because toddlers are busy. Toddlers are rambunctious. Toddlers have two modes of being: full speed, and unconscious. Toddlers are demanding, not having yet learned how to be polite, or the value of tact. And toddlers are brutally, painfully honest, not having learned how to regulate their emotions or hide their feelings. Most importantly, toddlers interfere.
Just when you think you have this caregiving thing down, with the eight or ten month old baby, the napping schedule, and the teething remedies, and the solid foods starting… suddenly, it starts to move around on its own! Getting into things it shouldn’t. Having encounters and experiences that you aren’t always in control of.
I came across this poem a few years ago, written by Sara Parks:
A Poem For Epiphany 2016
Toddlers interfere.
A cute toddler can halt a conversation in a
restaurant between new lovers.
So can an annoying toddler.
Your toddler
will interfere
with your decor, your sleep, your finances,
your friendships, your marriage.
For Christians,
God became a toddler.
And when the magi
(I’ll call them “wise” but I won’t say “three”
and I won’t say “men” because the Greek doesn’t specify)
… when the magi
visited God the toddler
their gold and frankincense and myrrh
although likely expensive
and impressive to parents
were probably drooled on and banged up a bit
if toddler God got his chubby little hands on them.
Go ahead, toddler God… Interfere in [2026].
Be adorable. Be annoying. We’re ready!
Seeing God in a toddler? It might be a stretch, if we’re used to thinking about God as far away, as all-seeing and all-powerful and remote from our human lives and circumstances, joys and struggles. But not such a stretch, if we take the mystery of Christmas seriously, the incarnation, the enfleshment of God in the Christ child, and in some mysterious way, in each one of us too.
Because surely, if we’re honest, haven’t we found that encountering God doesn’t always result in serenity? And that actually, when we encounter or experience God, that God does indeed “interfere with your decor, your sleep, your finances, your friendships, your marriage?” Interfere with our very lives?
Bringing us to encounters with people we would never otherwise meet, like a family from Syria, or a person of a different age group, different background, a different sexual orientation or gender identity. Calling us to give more of ourselves, in more demanding ways, than we could ever have imagined before. Messing up our carefully planned lives, our ordinary days, in extraordinary ways, with chubby little hands.
If God is a toddler, then God is waiting to encounter us, not just or only in moments of silence, of meditation, of prayer, of serenity. But also, through the rambunctiousness of our everyday lives. So Epiphany isn’t a sudden moment of transparency, a quick glimpse above and beyond our current reality to something more, but rather a practice. A practice of looking at where we are, who we are with, to see the sacred right there, not hidden, not transcendent, but right in our faces, calling out to be seen, to be recognized, like a demanding and relentless toddler who will not be denied.
So, as this year begins, may this be our prayer:
Go ahead, toddler God…Interfere in 2026.
Be adorable. Be annoying. We’re ready!
Michelle
