Sunday is Epiphany. At some point that day, our family will gather on our front porch. We will pray a blessing over our house.
Lord God of Heaven and Earth, You revealed Your only-begotten Son to every nation by the light of a star. Bless this house and all who live here. May it be a shelter of peace and health and a place of warmth and caring for all who enter this door. Fill us with the light of Christ, that we might clearly see You in our work and play and follow wherever You may lead. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.
Then I will take a piece of the kids’ sidewalk chalk and write on the lintel of our front door C+M+B 13. Last year’s inscription is still visible, and beneath it, if you look closely, you can see the letters and numbers from the years before that—11, 10, 09, all the way back to 07, our first Epiphany in this house.
You see, every year on Epiphany (January 6), we commemorate the Magi’s coming to Bethlehem by enacting this small ritual of blessing our home, of marking it as a place set apart, of etching into our front door our intention to follow Jesus, wherever he may lead.
The letters C, M, and B are the first letters of each word in the Latin phrase Christus mansionem benedicat—Christ, bless this home. We write them on our door each year because that is what we want—the blessing of Christ, the peace and joy and love of the God-Man— to fill our home, to fill our hearts, to be the very air we breathe as we go about our daily work.
But those letters aren’t just a petition. They’re also a call—because C, M, and B are also the initials of the Wise Men whose names, according to tradition, were Caspar, Melchior, and Baltasar. These men left all they knew and held dear to follow a star—because they believed that what they’d find would surpass all they were leaving behind. We want to be like the Magi—so we write their initials on our door to remind us, each time we come into our house, of our desire, our intention to follow the Light.
When I see those letters (and I confess, I often pass beneath them, oblivious of their presence, their call), but when I remember to pay attention and I actually see them, I say a prayer: “Help me, Jesus, to see you. Help me to hear you. Help me to follow you.”
Most often in my life, with four young children running about underfoot, following where Jesus leads doesn’t look glamourous or difficult. Mostly it means biting my tongue when I want to scream in frustration over yet another mess.
It means collecting my reluctant children onto the sofa for Morning Prayer even when I’d rather not deal with the whining. It means making yet another meal and shepherding everyone to the table one more time to light the candle, sing, pray, and share our consolations from the day—when all I want is to lie down and sleep for a good 24 hours.
It means believing in the face of often contrary evidence that God is indeed at work in our home, our kids’ hearts, my husband’s and my hearts, as we follow Jesus in the humble, every day ways that He leads us.
In this daily following, we become the magi, answering the call of the star in our small way—and so, by the grace of God, we become the answer to our prayer that Christ would bless our home and all who enter. That’s a lot of growth from three small letters and a number. But what else do we expect from the Lord who fed four thousands with five loaves and two fish?
Kimberlee,
I always love your posts that touch on your faith in the home. They encourage me to examine our home practices and ask whether we are setting the right example for the next generation of faith bearers. Thank you. This was great.
I hear you, Seth. I am always looking at our home practices and asking, is it enough? will they know Jesus? will they follow him? That’s why I find the loaves and fishes so comforting–because we give what we can (and it is so not enough) and then Jesus makes it more than enough. Or, to paraphrase St. Paul, we water, but God gives the growth.
Thank you for this! This will be the first year in which my family celebrates Epiphany, and I’ve been looking for ideas. This is beautiful – especially as this is our first Christmas season in our new home.
Christie, I’m so glad you’ll be celebrating Epiphany this year. And blessing your house–what a wonderful way to begin a new year in your new home!
we do this, too, and i’m itching for a fresh reminder.
(one year we marked the youth room in chalk. the elders did not like this tradition nearly as much;)
Lame that your church elders frowned on your youth room blessing
I think it’s a wonderful idea…but then, I would 
we do this, too, and i’m itching for a fresh reminder.
(one year we marked the youth room in chalk. the elders did not like this tradition nearly as much;)
I read the chapter in your book this morning on Epiphany and loved it. This was a wonderful follow-up to that. Because sometimes its not the big things we sacrifice to follow Christ that matter as much as the collective myriad of simple choices we have every day that make a difference. Thanks Kimberlee.
Thanks, Shelly. I’m so glad you liked the chapter in my book. If you’re interested, there’s a follow up on my blog from last Epiphany or the year before (it all sort of blurs together after awhile, you know?), about what happened to Teddy after he came back from Spain.
And I love the way you put this: “the collective myriad choices we make every day.” Yes. Exactly. Those choices form us, make us the people we become.
Kimberlee – I love this! Shared it on facebook and hope my friends are encouraged as well. I’d say you are very much like the Magi. Thank you, friend.
Kristin! Bless you! Thanks much for the FB shout-out–and your words of encouragement.
Yay! Thank you for the reminder with this lovely post. I’m getting my chalk out
I’d be getting my chalk out, too, Susan, but I have to find it first
What a wonderful tradition, Kimberlee! I, too, love to read about the creative and faithful ways in which you integrate your faith into your family life. Very cool.
Thanks, Diana. I love this tradition because it’s just about my speed. It takes less than five minutes and only requires a piece of chalk. That, I can do
Kimberlee: I am always learning new things at Bethany. Thanks for your teaching me about the CMB custom. And it is refreshing to hear that your life isn’t as perfect as it sometimes look. I am grateful for the amazing hearts and minds that you and Doug have. You are great examples for us all.
Oh goodness, Bob, my life is so far from perfect it’s laughable. Just today, after writing this post last night, I couldn’t even drag myself out of bed till ten a.m. The kids made their own breakfast. So much for gathering everyone at the table for one more meal and prayer!
But I do thank you for your words here. The Epiphany house-blessing is one of my favorite yearly rituals, and I’m so glad I got to be the one to introduce you to it
Kimberlee-this just makes me sigh. Such a beautiful remembrance–down to earth, daily-ness and the desire to follow Jesus just like the Magi.
You are are gift to us! Thank you for these encouraging words.
Thank you, Jody. Your words are the encouraging ones
I’m not big on traditions but I really like that one. We all need a reminder. When we build our new house this may need to be something we do each year as well. Thanks.
JC–I think that “reminder” is what tradition is all about; it’s a way to help us remember
I have been identifying with the Magi, this year, too.
Mostly because they didn’t know where they were going. Only following a Light. Radically faithful to that Light. Wherever it may lead and whatever may come. I find myself in that place this year.
Your tradition is poignant. An ebenezer. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for using that word “ebenezer,” Kelli. It’s a good word to rehabilitate
And aren’t we always just following a Light? Sometimes the light illuminates more than the next step, but we can’t ever really see that far down the road. We just think we can. But those times in our lives when we know we can’t still feel vulnerable, uncertain. That’s why I like to remember that the Magi didn’t travel alone, and neither do we.
Oh, Kimberlee. How did you know I needed this? Your words come just in time. Now I know what to do.
Oh, Megan, I didn’t know. But God did. I’m so grateful to be His vessel of just-in-time for you.