We’re in a time of Epiphany in the Christian calendar. Everybody know what that means? The beautiful thing about Epiphany is that it means something different to everyone. Someone over here is going to describe Epiphany in terms completely different from someone’s description over here.

And I’ll bet if Dave Letterman were to send out one of his studio hands to do interviews around our community, and they were to shove a microphone in our face and ask us, “So, what’s this Epiphany thing all about?” they would come up with a good gag reel of church-going folks responding with anything from, “Uh…” to, “Isn’t that a state holiday?” Even if you have some grasp of what Epiphany means, it’s going to mean something different to you than it does to someone else.

It’s fitting that something having to do with catching a glimpse of God in Christ would be so diverse. There are other times in the Christian year that we know more readily: Advent and Lent for example. We know that Advent is about the coming of Christ, and that Advent is a time of preparing for the birth of Jesus. We know that Lent is a time of self-reflection. It’s a time when we’re called to pour out our lives at the altar of Christ in anticipation of the crucifixion, and then a glorious celebration of new life on Easter morning. But Epiphany is another story. We don’t really have a shared definition of Epiphany, so that might be a reason for why we don’t uplift it as intentionally during the Christian year in the Church. So, let’s try to experience a communal understanding of Epiphany this morning, shall we?

Last week we took a moment to reflect on those times when we maybe dismissed something a child had to say based on their naïve perspective. And we remembered moments when we waved off advice from our spouses, or our friends or family members because we feel like we know exactly where they’re coming from—we’ve heard that advice before. Those are moments where an epiphany can take place.

This isn’t just about noticing something in someone that you didn’t notice before. That’s more along the lines of a revelation. And to put this in human terms, this is more like a hallmark moment that really doesn’t merit the definition of Epiphany. The child in It’s a Wonderful Life says in that cute little voice, “Every time a bell rings an angel gets its wings,” and you notice it and think it’s adorable that the kid said something so sweet. But you notice nothing about yourself. That’s not an epiphany.

It’s when we notice something so beautiful emanating from someone else that we’re knocked over by that beauty and forced to take a look at ourselves while we’re on our knees, that’s the start of an epiphany. Back to spiritual terms: When we catch a glimpse of the glory of God all around us and we take a step back and say, “Maybe I need to make some adjustments to myself before I can be a part of this thing,” that’s the beginning of an epiphany. But if it stops there, it’s nothing more than a human revelation. It’s just one of those things that makes you scratch your chin and go, “Huh.” We’ve got to go a step further to experience an epiphany.

I used to work at a soup and sandwich place in Austin called Thundercloud Subs. Started working there right out of high school. And I had a boss named Shane who remains one of the most interesting, difficult and beautiful people I’ve ever met. Interesting and difficult is how I would have described him for those three years when I was his employee though.

Shane hailed from Minnesota. He preferred watching a brutal game of hockey over the finesse of basketball or the strategy of football. He was twice the size of any of us Thundercloud employees, and he was like the principal in Back to the Future, because he always called us “slackers.”

He wasn’t that much older than any of us, but Shane would patronize us constantly with comments like: “Good thing they’re not hungry!” or, “That ringing noise stops when you pick up the phone!” And there was his agitating mantra that he would mutter at our every mistake, “Gotta remind myself how old you are. Gotta remind myself how old you are.”

A majority of us Thundercloud employees were between the ages of 18 and 25, and we were a ragtag bunch of Gen Xers with tattoos, piercing, baseball caps, concert t-shirts and dread locks. So Shane seemed to take pleasure in greeting us with comments like, “What, did you wake up on the wrong side of the curb?” He never socialized with any of us outside of work, and he pretty much kept to himself when the lunch rush dissipated. To put it mildly, many of us didn’t really care for Shane. Shane once mentioned to me that he’d fired nearly 100 people since coming on as the manager of Thundercloud. That’s a lot of enemies. Basically, in order to do a good job, a Thundercloud employee needed to show up on time, adhere to the dress code and do whatever Shane told them to do.

Well, one day we needed to make a rush order of a 3-foot-long sub sandwich for a party; so Shane got the idea of us making an assembly line, and he put me at the saran wrap. There was a big spool of saran wrap with a metal serrated edge that was two feet long, and I was supposed to rip off square pieces and place them to the side for another employee to wrap the giant sandwich. I was doing the job right, but I guess I wasn’t moving fast enough; so, Shane immediately shoved me to the side and said, “This is how you do it.” But in his rush to put me in my place, Shane cut his thumb on that serrated edge. He dropped what he was doing, clasped his thumb in his hand and retreated to the back. I was left to rip off pieces of saran wrap and get the job done efficiently and without any mistakes, and Shane saw how it worked. Shane never said anything, but he tore saran wrap slowly and steadily from that point on. That’s a revelation. Something was revealed to Shane that he hadn’t bothered to notice before, and obviously he learned from this revelation.

Now let’s look at today’s Gospel reading. It’s the end of the day. The disciples are tired. They’ve been fishing all day unsuccessfully, and now Jesus wants Peter to pick up and launch out into deep waters for a catch. “Yeah, right. A catch.” That’s what Peter’s thinking, but he still obeys Jesus’ instructions: “OK, Master, if you say so, I’ll do it, but this isn’t going to work.” And then it happens. They catch so many fish that the net can barely hold them all, and the boat can hardly stay afloat. And Peter falls on his knees saying to Jesus, “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!” But Jesus says, “Don’t be afraid. From now on you will be a fisher of people.”

Why is this chalked up to Epiphany? When that miracle happens, Peter doesn’t see the error of his fisherman’s skills. He sees a miracle happening right before his eyes. And his response to this miracle wasn’t about how he’d messed up. His response was about how amazing this was and how he didn’t deserve to be a part of it. “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!”

What we overlook is that in that moment, Peter accepted God’s invitation to Epiphany. He died to the way that he used to be. That’s dead. And then…then Christ invites him to stand up and join him in fishing for humanity. The same power that brought Peter to his knees before Jesus lifts him up in service to God. Do you hear that? The same power that humbles before one another lifts us up into service and love toward one another. Our lives flourish in the self-absorption, indifference and evils of this world. And that same power that causes our lives to die to those things, that same power lifts us to new life in the guidance of the Holy Spirit, in the companionship of Christ, and in the presence of God. That’s Epiphany.

But what if it were one of us in this story. If I were Peter and I didn’t want to go back out into that water for a catch, I’d have a hard time letting go of that attitude. Instead of falling on our knees before Christ, we might bend down on one knee at the edge of the boat, scratch our chins and go, “Huh. I guess I did something wrong. Next time I’ll do it right. I’ll learn from this mistake so that I don’t make the same mistake twice.” Imagine if that’s the way the Scripture ended up. If Peter had seen this miracle and responded by saying, “Well, I guess I was wrong. I’ll get it right next time I go fishing.”—do you think that Jesus would have invited him to be a fisher of people? Without Peter humbling himself before God and dying to his old way of looking at the world, do you think we would read about an Epiphany in the gospel of Luke?

Are you starting to see it? The choir sang an anthem for us this morning, and the words translated into English simply remind us of Christ’s words: “Where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am in the midst of them.” Let’s take it a step further on this fourth Sunday after Epiphany: Where two or three are gathered, there is an invitation to Epiphany in the midst of them. No community; no Epiphany. No Epiphany; no life.

Epiphany has nothing to do with you. Epiphany has nothing to do with me. But Epiphany has everything to do with us.

How many people do you know who go through life confident that they have it all figured out; that they can go it alone; that they can take care of themselves? You might be one of them. How many times have we been so proud as to say, “I’m hurt, but I can take it. I’m down, but I can pull myself up.”? How many times have we been so stubborn as to say, “I’m wounded, but I can lick my own wounds. I’m going through a hard time right now but I can deal with it. My life is broken, but I can fix it.”?

Sound familiar? That American Dream kind of pride is almost inherently in our veins in this country. And one can argue that the American Dream is a healthy ideal, and this preacher is certainly not arguing against that. But what we all need to realize is that the American Dream of getting out of your own mire, solving your own problems, and fixing your own dilemmas—that dream is subsequent to Your relationship with God, and your interconnectedness with God’s Creation.

It’s subsequent to Epiphany, because when we experience an Epiphany then it becomes our mire, our problems, our dilemmas, and, “Get away from us Lord, because we are a sinful people.” And then God calls to us gathered on our knees, “Don’t be afraid, for you are now free to launch out into the deepest waters of life and make a catch!” In spiritual terms, to have an epiphany is to realize that we can’t do this gift called life alone. Epiphany is about our hearts crying out, “OK, I can’t do this by myself. But it’s too much for me to ask for anyone’s help. Get away from me, all you good people, for I am not worthy of your help,” and Jesus Christ hears these cries and answers, “Don’t be afraid. I’ve been with you from the beginning and I’ll be with you until the end.”

Now, back to my old boss, Shane, because you might be wondering why I said that he’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. During the last year or so of my tenure at Thundercloud Subs, I opened the store every weekday morning, which meant that I spent 5 mornings a week of my life for over a year with Shane.

And every morning that I was there, I talked to Shane, and he talked to me, and we listened to each other, and became friends. And I wasn’t the only one Shane warmed up to: He started talking with the other employees more. He stopped firing them (that was a plus). And I honestly think Shane realized that his work—his vocation—as a manager had nothing to do with him, and it had nothing to do with me, but his vocation had everything to do with us. His vocation was bigger than just him, and when he acknowledged that, I think Shane experienced an Epiphany.

Shane celebrated his 40^th birthday last year, and I attended the surprise party, along with an entire house full of my former fellow employees and our mutual friends. You should have seen the look on the boss’ face when he came in that door and we yelled, “Surprise!” His face turned beat red and he smiled from ear to ear, and the first thing he said to us all was, “Thank you. I’m so glad you’re here.”

Things are revealed to us every day, and we learn from these revelations every day. But until we embrace the Epiphany that gives us a glimpse of God all around us, we can only be I; and I can only do so much. I must die to the me mentality if we are ever going to live as a united community; a community of servants that’s strong enough, devoted enough and humble enough to overcome the evils of this world.

Think of it this way: You can go it alone if you want to. You can be strong and proud. And you can even make people fear you and envy you. But when you come to end of your days and you breathe your last breath, do you want to retire inside a grand mansion that is completely empty, or do you want to live forever in a warm home filled with a communion of saints.

Thank God we have community. Thank God we have Epiphany. Amen.