EPIPHANY, sometimes called “Little Christmas” or “Twelfth Night,” commemorates a revelation that shook the world of three magi, or wise men. It marks the moment that transformed civilization.

In 1857, The Rev. John Henry Hopkins Jr., a Pennsylvania clergyman and hymnist, wrote “Three Kings of Orient.” Although it is played and sung as a Christmas carol, it is actually an Epiphany hymn, and listed as such in the traditional 1940 Hymnal, a fitting companion book to the 1928 Book of Common Prayer.  It is written in E minor, a musical key of rich color that evokes “gathering gloom” and deep, jewel-like hues — royal purple, crimson, emerald, gold — that we imagine clothed the three travelers and their richly caparisoned camels.

“We Three Kings,” as the hymn has become known, tells of not only the birth, but the entire life of Christ. It spares us nothing. It is a hymn for adults.

The story of Christ’s life, death, and eternal reign is told by Gaspard, bearer of gold: “Born a King on Bethlehem’s Plain;” Melchior, who offers incense: “Prayer and praising, all men raising;” and Balthazar, who brings the “bitter perfume” of myrrh, and provides the darkest words of the hymn, “Sealed in the stone cold tomb.” In the final verse, all sing the triumphant “Glorious now behold him arise, King, and God, and Sacrifice . . . .”

In our traditional 1928 Book of Common Prayer, which is based completely on holy scripture, the words of Matthew ii.I remind us that King Herod plotted to kill the baby who, it had been prophesied, would rule Israel. He sent three wise men to Bethlehem to find the child and report his location.

After a long and arduous journey, the wise men arrived at the manger. Here, they experienced a momentous epiphany — the realization of Christ’s divinity.  They had come to do Herod’s evil bidding, but instead fell down and worshipped. Then, being wise men, they evaded Herod and “departed into their own country another way.” Thus was Jesus Christ revealed to the Gentiles.

As we take a final look at the lights on our Christmas trees and put the ornaments away for next year, let us reflect on The Collect for Epiphany on page 107 of the 1928 Book of Common Prayer:

“O God, who by the leading of a star didst manifest thy only-begotten Son to the Gentiles; Mercifully grant that we, who know thee now by faith, may after this life have the fruition of thy glorious Godhead; through the same thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“We Three Kings” is a hymn of beauty, and a splendid antidote to Rudolph, Frosty, and the Chipmunks. – Jan Mahood, ETF Editor

Most of us are familiar with the Boiling Frog Analogy: If you put a frog in boiling water, it will leap right out of the pot. If, on the other hand, you put the frog in warm water and gradually turn up the heat bit by bit, it will first be lulled into a cozy stupor, then boiled alive before it catches on.

Having never boiled anything other than lobsters, clams, and mussels, I don’t know if this story is true, but it does illustrate how even the most radical change, when introduced in increments, can lull us into a sense that all is well — until it’s too late.

Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble .   .   .   .

Incrementalism has long been the strategy of Episcopal Church authorities in lulling the laity with               warm-and-fuzzy rhetoric while radically changing our religion right under our noses. By changing the words with which we worship, they have provided justification for leftist sociopolitical initiatives. More than half the Church’s members have exited the crock-pot since the revisionists first turned on the gas. Why fight it? After being inundated with politically-correct frogwash all week long in school, workplace, and media, why listen to it on Sunday, too, when we attend church to commune with God?

Episcopalians who were here for the “Green Book” in the late 1960s will remember that fateful Sunday we first saw it in the pews. Accustomed to worshipping with the 1928 Book of Common Prayer, we asked our clergy at coffee hour, “What is this?!”

“Oh,” our rector smoothly assured us, “If we don’t like it we can always go back to the ‘old’ Prayer Book.” He reached behind his back and turned the stovetop burner from OFF to LOW.

Another “trial liturgy,” the striped “Zebra Book” replaced the “Green Book” in pew racks. More revisions were introduced, a few words at a time, so as not to alarm us.

The exodus of half the members of the Episcopal Church accelerated when the 1979 book was introduced. If you look at an an Episcopal Church-published graph of Church attendance from the 1960s to 2008, you’ll see an abrupt drop-off after introduction of the 1979 Prayer Book.

The numbers don’t lie, but how about the revisionists?  When a group from ETF met with then-Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold several years ago, he kept emphasizing that church numbers are way down because of “demographic” factors and “changing times.” Church leaders are still repeating the same tiresome excuses for uncharitably driving away their brothers and sisters in Christ.

Does Church lead or follow?

Revisionists like to insist that the Church must change to accommodate the culture. They say that communicants won’t attend a church that isn’t “relevant” to their lifestyles; therefore, the Episcopal Church must change to move with the times. On the other hand, those who value holy scripture, tradition, and the practices of the Church recognize that to the revisionists down is up. The Church exists not to accommodate secular culture, but to change it for the better. A church that doesn’t lead by teaching us how to live destroys the very culture that has sustained it. Continue reading A New Year’s Resolution to Stand By Our Faith