See earlier posts for Advent theology and Christmas theology, if you fancy working through the church year.
A consciousness of Epiphany should, I think, bring three distinctive emphases to our theology: light, grace, and a sense of awe.
By light I mean this: that though it is surely true that God dwells in total darkness, and that clouds and thick darkness surround him, out of that darkness real light shines. There is a school of thought that emphasises the darkness, that suggests that because God is so very different from us, and because our language and concepts are so inadequate to describe him, in the end we can only say what God is not. In some more mystically inclined theologians, this ends with saying that God is nothing: "whoever speaks of God as Nothing speaks of God properly", according to Meister Echkart. But this will not do. Epiphany tells us that God shines forth; that in the face of Christ we see the light of the glory of God. Theology is a positive discipline. It proceeds in the light of God, to speak of the God who has made himself known.
Then again, Epiphany is a celebration of the fact that God has revealed himself to the Gentiles. It's a desperate shame that this is neglected. It is good for those of us who are Gentiles to pause and realise the tremendous grace of God displayed here. It was not only to Israel, his ancient people, that God revealed himself, but Christ was a light for revelation to the Gentiles. That revelation and salvation reached even us, who by nature were utterly alien to the covenant and people of God, should cause us to be astonished. It is good to remember that the reason - the deep reason - behind this revelation is that Christ is too glorious for his ministry to be restricted only to the lost sheep of Israel. That is to say, if the truth of God reaches us, it is not because we are so great, but because Jesus is so great. And of course, whether we are Gentiles or Israelites this should drive home the amazing kindness of God, which causes his light to overflow all boundaries and to reach into all nations. So theology as a discipline must be careful never to take for granted any of its material. Every doctrine, every glimpse of God's glory and work, must be received in humble gratitude. This is not confident intellectual system building, but humble reception of that which we could never have grasped if the glory of the Lord had not arisen and shone upon us.
And so the net result should be awe. Awe that we really see in Christ Jesus the eternal light of the Godhead. Awe that this light reaches even into our deep and morally culpable darkness. Awe that true knowledge of God can exist amongst sinners who naturally delight in unknowing. I have read quite a bit of theology which I have not agreed with, but I have often found it profitable nevertheless when it breathes this spirit of awe before the Lord. Conversely, sound theology which lacks this sense of awe leaves me cold. (The same, incidentally, can be said of preaching, of hymnody, of liturgy...) Let us tremble before him - not only because of the thick darkness, but because of the light which shines through it; not only because of our sin, but because of his grace which overcomes all sin - and set about our theology with humility and awe.
