Imagination and Wonder
Imagination and Wonder
One of my favourite things about Epiphany is its appeal to the imagination. The journey of the Magi to see the infant Christ is an evocative narrative, full of suspense and drama - yet condensed into just twelve verses of Matthew’s gospel. In part, it is the brevity of the narrative which gives it such imaginative appeal. Throughout Christian history, the gaps and ambiguities in the text have lent themselves to countless creative re-imaginings. It is only, of course, through the embellishments of tradition that we know the Magi as Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar, and their identity as kings.
But it is the story itself, I think - not simply its gaps and omissions - that encourages us to engage our imaginations. For the journey of the Magi is, at its heart, a colossal act of imagination. Their intrepid journey reaches its climax not in certainty but in wonder. To experience wonder is to be struck by new imaginative possibilities; to marvel at new ways of seeing the world, previously hidden but now brought to light. It is a disorientating experience – something that T.S. Eliot captures in his poem ‘Journey of the Magi’, as he imagines the journey homeward:
But it is the story itself, I think - not simply its gaps and omissions - that encourages us to engage our imaginations. For the journey of the Magi is, at its heart, a colossal act of imagination. Their intrepid journey reaches its climax not in certainty but in wonder. To experience wonder is to be struck by new imaginative possibilities; to marvel at new ways of seeing the world, previously hidden but now brought to light. It is a disorientating experience – something that T.S. Eliot captures in his poem ‘Journey of the Magi’, as he imagines the journey homeward:
‘… We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death’.
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death’.
At Epiphany, then, I’m reminded of the imaginative risk demanded by Christian faith – the willingness to find myself disorientated, lost in wonder… awe-struck at the new world made possible by Christ, and no longer at ease in the old. Perhaps this gift of imagination is what we can receive afresh at Epiphany, and then offer back to God in wonder and in praise.
Andrew Bennison
Ripon College Cuddesdon