Epiphany

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It’s Epiphany: the day that the Magi come upon the Christ child, and give Him the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

It is the day that I take down all of the Christmas decorations: the penguins in my office and the holiday cards from the door, the boughs of garland and the tree itself.

But I have on occasion read "The Dead" by James Joyce on the Epiphany since the action of the story takes place on January 6. At the end of the story, there is a scene in which Greta, wife of the main protagonist, tells Gabriel, the protagonist, about a former love, Michael Furey, and how he dies from catching a cold while throwing pebbles at bedroom window. This is the crux of the story – that the dead still can have a major effect on the living. The action of this story takes place on Nuns' Island in Galway.

When I first read "The Dead," it was years after college, and the year after I had traveled to Ireland. I was floored when I read this part of the short story. I had spent my stay in Galway at the St. Martin's Bed and Breakfast (and if Mary Sexton is still there, God bless her! She embodied my archetype for an Irish B&B proprietor. If you travel to Galway, stay there – rob, steal, lie, cheat, do whatever to stay there. It was €35 a night in 1999, but I'm sure that it's more now. However it is worth it.) The B&B is located on what’s left of Nuns' Island. The address is something like 41 Nuns' Island Road. (I just googled it, 2 Nun's Island Street and the St. Martin's B&B gets rave reviews. I see that Mary is still there.) It gave me chills to think about the story and how I slept on the very island that this moving storyline was located.

Those who study Joyce emphasize the connection of the feast day to the sudden manifestation of comprehension or perception. Gabriel has an epiphany about his love of his life on the feast of the Epiphany. Joyce, who did like to pepper his works with symbolic references and Biblical/religious insinuations, also wrote that it was snowing on January 6 in Dublin – a rare meteorological event in Ireland. Snowing is a common-known allusion to death.

Outside the drudgery of this allegorical talk, I love Epiphany and epiphanies. There’s something about the feeling of Eureka! when "it all makes sense" that is so comforting and empowering. I welcome them.

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