Shine, Jesus, Shine!
Commentary
Object:
In their book Resident Aliens, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon tell the story of a United Methodist congregation whose education committee was determined to make confirmation a meaningful exercise. They held discussions as to the preferred outcomes, and then drew up a master plan by which the high school seniors would be partnered with more mature members of the congregation in order to be mentored into adult Christian responsibilities.
Young Max was teamed with 24-year-old Joe, a single fellow who seemed to have his head on straight and who worked well with young people. Several weeks into the venture, however, Joe called the pastor in great distress. He wanted someone to put Max in his place and make him behave. Gently the pastor tried to soothe Joe’s obviously frayed nerves and calm him to a place where talk could regain its balance.
Slowly the problem emerged. Joe was fine with meeting Max now and again, and telling him some stuff about the Christian faith. He had even dropped the remark that Max could come by sometime, if he wanted, and the two of them could hang out together. Well, it seems as if Max thought Joe meant it, for he came by Joe’s house unannounced... in what turned out to be a very awkward moment. Joe had been in bed with his girlfriend, and there was no easy way to cover it up. Joe was embarrassed and turned it all on Max, blaming him for intruding on Joe’s personal life. Max, in turn, delivered a blistering accusation against Joe for being a phony, and said that if it was all right for Joe to have sex with his girlfriend, Max could do the same. Now Joe was caught in a host of moral lies and inconsistencies -- and the shouting match ended with Joe telling Max to get out, Max stomping off and slamming the door, and Joe calling the pastor in irritation over the whole mess.
What had begun as a venture in modeling Christian behavior to those entering adult religious responsibilities had turned into an object lesson in the moral quagmire of general church life. M. Scott Peck wrote that one of the most unlikely places to create true community in modern North American society is in the church, because we have bought into isolation and performance mentalities. Joe and Max only proved the truth of this, and they were but a symptom of a much larger problem in that and most of our congregations. We gather on Sundays to say pious things about God and morality, but we live isolated and hidden lives in which we too often don’t practice what we preach. When we get caught at our lies and deceptions, as in the case of Max and Joe, we attack each other or we complain that the system is broken.
Epiphany reminds us that the secret things will be brought to light. God shines a powerful beam into our world in the person of Jesus Christ. All who come into this radiance begin to glow or hide, depending on their lifestyle preference. Isaiah prays for the brilliance of God’s glory to rain down from heaven and illumine this sin-darkened world. Paul prays for God’s light to shine through the witness of the church of Jesus. And Matthew reminds us that some delight in the light of eternity, while others seek to snuff it out. Epiphany, the revealing of God into our world, is a moment of crisis.
Isaiah 60:1-6
Isaiah stands at the head of the collection of Old Testament prophets, for good reason. While he is not the earliest among them (Samuel was already considered a prophet three centuries before, and many of the first prophets noted in the Bible -- e.g., Nathan, Ahijah -- were evidently not “writing prophets”; they have bequeathed to us no documents to peruse), Isaiah is chief over them. He gave the prophetic message lyrical power, and addressed every theme that others would pursue only in part. Isaiah is the grand master of covenant prophecy.
According to the list of kings that Isaiah identifies, during whose reigns he received and declared messages from Yahweh, this prophet’s work spanned about 50 years (740-690 BC). For all of that time, Assyria was the constant superpower threat in his contemporary world. “Israel” (the northern portion of David and Solomon’s kingdom) had been split off from “Judah” for nearly 300 years (since 922 BC). Because of the tenacious advance of the Assyrian war machine, Israel was desperately seeking ways in which to form alliances that might hold it back for a time. Syria and Israel became partners throughout most of the 8th century BC, often as much by the sheer dominance of Syria’s military might coercing Israel into defensive pacts as by the choice of the Samaria-based government. This temperamental twosome made many overtures, both friendly and threatening, toward Judah, seeking to draw the smaller kingdom into their anti-Assyria alliances either by compliance or force. Throughout a succession of kings, Judah tried to retain its own identity in several ways:
* Uzziah chose to come under the protectorate of Israel, and thus allowed Judah to become a vassal province of the Israel-Syria alliance.
* Ahaz made an end run around his northern neighbors and appealed directly to Tiglath-pileser of Assyria for protection against Israel and Syria, hoping that in their destruction Judah would regain some of the old territory as its administrative district.
* Hezekiah first formed a tentative alliance with ambassadors from Babylon, as that eastern province of Assyria was beginning to stir in rebellion. Later he joined Egypt in a stop-payment of tribute to Assyria, which roused their ire against him until he was forced into reasserting submissive ties to Nineveh. Later, after a miraculous escape from what seemed an imminent crushing defeat by Assyrian forces, Hezekiah renewed his subversive contacts with Babylon.
All of these international political policies (and several more) were possible choices for tiny Judah. The prophets probed them all, assessing each according to the evaluation of Yahweh, and then asserting what they believed was the only political option true to the theology of the ancient Sinai covenant. In summary, these were the options:
* Join Egypt, the only nearby strong nation, in opposing Assyria.
* Join the Israel-Syria confederation in opposing Assyria.
* Declare allegiance to Assyria and become a vassal province of that empire, in hopes of reaping enlarged borders when the fighting was finished and northern neighbors Israel and Syria were destroyed.
* Ally with Babylon, the restless eastern province of Assyria, in hopes of an overthrow of Assyria, which would net independence in their remote mountainous locale.
* Stay neutral from all international alliances, relying solely on Yahweh for protection and deliverance.
Only this final piece of political and religious advice was put forward consistently by Isaiah and the other prophets. This was the single viable path open to those who truly believed that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations, and that Israel’s (Judah’s) mandate was to continue as a witness to the surrounding nations rather than becoming a subservient vassal to their gods and cultures.
Isaiah’s name meant “Salvation is of Yahweh,” and this truly typified his words and prophecies. He was married (Isaiah 8:3) and had at least two children (Isaiah 7:3, 8:3), who were themselves illustrations of Isaiah’s prophetic declarations. The commissioning scene of Isaiah 6, with its Temple location along with all of the liturgical language surrounding Isaiah’s call, suggests that Isaiah might have been a priest, or at least a member of a Levite family. At the same time, his easy and constant access to successive kings (cf. Isaiah 7:3, 38:1, 39:1) might imply that he was an employee of the royal court, although his statement in 37:6 (“Say to your master...”) could be interpreted as setting him outside of the political system, at least at some point. Nevertheless, with the narratives of chapters 36-39 incorporated directly into the book, Isaiah obviously was at minimum a court recorder or scribe or historian of some kind (see also 2 Chronicles 26:22). Most likely he was the chief historian in the royal house, and possibly even a member of the extended royal family. In his duties he appears to have functioned as the official scribe or court recorder. Using that platform as a pulpit, he expressed magnificently worded prophetic analyses and judgments about the religious and political actions of the kings.
Regardless of whether one person, or several from a community that was shaped by a larger-than-life teacher, wrote the various and combined oracles of Isaiah, the message is consistent throughout. Isaiah was overwhelmed by a divine commissioning (chapter 6) that took place in the Temple during the year that King Uzziah died. He was guided by the theology of the Sinai covenant (chapters 2-5), which mandated that Israel was supposed to have a unique lifestyle among the nations, a set of behaviors which would serve as a missional call for others to join this holy community in a global return to the ways of their Creator. He was confident that Yahweh could resolve all political problems (chapters 7-11), no matter how daunting they might seem. He believed Israel/Judah needed to repent (chapter 12), and to recover their original identity and purpose as Yahweh’s covenant partners and witnesses. He was certain that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations (chapters 13-35), even if Yahweh’s primary focus was attached to Israel/Judah. He heard the heartbeat of divine love and compassion, wrestling for the soul and destiny of Israel/Judah as a loved companion and partner (chapters 36-41). He saw Yahweh transforming Israel’s/Judah’s identity and fortunes through a “Suffering Servant” leader (chapters 42-53). He envisioned a future age in which all the world and every society and even the universe itself would be restored to harmony with its Creator and would resonate with magnificent glory (chapters 56-66).
Among the prophets of ancient Israel Isaiah was truly a prince, and his writings shaped the language of theological reflection among his peers and on into the age of the New Testament church.
Ephesians 3:1-12
Apocalyptic visioning is nothing new. Every civilization, and especially those that were dying, has had end-times doomsayers. Even the Bible shows evidence of that. When the Assyrians stormed through Israel and devastated it in 722 BC, little Judah to the south was engulfed in a cloud of moody and frightening prophecies, including dozens collected in Isaiah’s volume. The book of Revelation would serve much the same purpose in the early Christian church, as the early days of power and glory gave way to the darkening killing fields of persecution.
But the biblical apocalyptic visions never end in total annihilation. These nasty times are always the gateway to salvation and restoration and renewal. Into this tragedy-engulfed world, however, shines a light. It is a light of grace, a light of hope, a light of salvation, a light of transformation. It is, of course, a divine light, whose source is none other than Yahweh, the God of Israel and the Lord of the Nations. But this marvelous light of hope and restoration, on the apocalyptic battlefields of our world, is prismed through the faith community of God’s peculiar people.
The message is clear. Earth will not end with either a bang or a whimper, as T.S. Eliot presumed, but with the blazing light of divine love, which will restore and renew and resuscitate all things, until God’s good intentions are finally experienced by all. Whatever apocalyptic doom holds sway in any society is only the prelude to God’s next great act of re-creation, which will produce a great dance of re-creation among all of humanity.
The symbolic language of the Old Testament gains specificity in its New Testament realizations, of course. First of all, the prophetic “Day of the Lord” was split in two, so that the blessings of realized eschatology could begin with the Messiah’s first coming as a baby in Bethlehem, while the catastrophic divine cleansing would wait until a later date. Secondly, through Jesus and the Church that lived in the power of his Spirit, some of the shades and shadows of humanity’s self-destructive trammeling are pushed back, and pockets of glory shine around every congregation that throbs with the radiance of heaven. This is the perspective from which Paul briefly outlines the “mystery” now revealed through Jesus in our epistle reading for today.
The religion of the Bible is predicated on the assumption that all of experiential reality had a beginning and was brought into being by a creator, and that this deity desires an ongoing relationship with the worlds that exist. More particularly, this God nurtures a special longing to engage the human race as the unique and crowning species within the grand complexity of molecules and moons, of fish and fowl, of galaxies and granite, of emotions and electrons.
But in its understanding of this ongoing arm-wrestling of Creator and creature, biblical religion is deeply rooted in human history. This expression of values and ideas is not merely a moral construct that makes life easier. Nor is it a set of centering exercises which will keep the imminent more fully tuned to the transcendent. Instead, the story put forward in biblical literature is that the creatures of earth have lost their ability to apprehend or understand their Creator, and that the deity must necessarily take not only the first, but also many recurring steps in an effort to reconnect with them. So revelation is a concept involving both action and content. The deity must somehow interrupt the normal course of affairs in human existence in a way that will catch our attention. And when we have stopped to notice or ponder or even step back in fright, there must be some information which becomes accessible to us in a way that allows and encourages us to rethink the meaning of all things.
Matthew 2:1-12
There is a new star shining in the sky. Why? Because the world is dark, and expectations are limited. Only a new revelation can help the magi or ourselves find meaning. Not only that, but the darkness is so thick and bleak that Herod is himself completely taken over by it, and willing to perpetrate murder in hopes of keeping the darkness all to himself!
The literature of the Bible is rooted in two major divine interruptions into human history -- first, the events of the exodus and Sinai covenant that first created Israel as a missional nation, and then later the unusual and unrepeatable incarnation of deity in the person of Jesus Christ. All of the literature of the Bible is gathered around these two redemptive events and their implications. For this reason the Pentateuch and the gospels are the critical elements shaping the biblical religion. They are not codes of law or wise ethical teachings from a distinguished school of thought; they are the documents articulating an unusual intrusion of divine will into the human arena for the threefold purpose of actively transforming lives by redemptive transactions, teaching the Creator’s original worldview, and establishing a missional community which will live out and disseminate those perspectives.
If the Bible is to have any ongoing religious value, its two historical nodes of divine redemptive activity have to be taken seriously. Stripped of the exodus/Sinai covenant or of the redemptive divinity of Jesus, the Bible makes little sense. Suddenly its moral codes are no better than others that have been formed and articulated at various points throughout history; its pilgrimage images are little different from other quests for significance and the sacred; and its personalities become only another bunch of interesting heroes and drifters who give moral lessons through their flawed frolicking.
But if there is a God, and if that God wished to reclaim by creatorial right a relationship with those brought into being as an extension of the divine fellowship and heavenly energy, the Bible makes a good deal of sense. It is a collection of covenant documents that trace the divine redemptive mission through two stages: its early history in locating a transformed community at the crossroads of human society in order to be seen and desired, and its later expression through an expanding and transforming presence in every culture that tells the story of God along with the other tales of life. Paul finds himself helping the faith community of the Old Testament transition into this new age of mission. This is his special calling, and it is directly related to the great “mystery” of God’s intentions that have been hovering over us from the beginning.
Like the rest of literature, the Bible can be ignored or misread or improperly used. But like the best of literature, when allowed to speak from its own frame of reference and respected as a collection of documents that are inherently seeking to enhance human life rather than deviously attempting to exploit it, the Bible is truly, in a very powerful and exciting way, the Word of God.
Application
Epiphany is not about the marvel of seeing potential in a tiny baby. It is a reminder that the religion of the Bible is exclusive in its origins and in its message of salvation. This does not make Christianity petty or prideful; it simply means that once you know the larger story of God’s redemptive purposes toward our world, it is a privilege to share the Good News about Jesus!
Light is the key theme today, and the revelation it cast into dark places. Matthew’s specially selected story of the coming of the magi is a reminder that the Creator has not done all of this in some secret corner, but in the very religions of our world has left vestiges of human groping through blindness for a divine redemption. Let the Light shine! Shine, Jesus, shine!
Alternative Application
Matthew 2:1-12. The theme of Jesus’ royal identity is consistently emphasized throughout Matthew’s gospel, rooted directly in the covenant Yahweh made with David in 2 Samuel 7. There the themes of God’s house and David’s house came together in powerful symmetry. David wished to build a house for God, now that Israel was settled in the Promised Land. While God appreciated the appropriate desire on David’s part, through the prophet Nathan God communicated that it would be David’s son, a man of peace, who would take up that honor and responsibility. But because David’s heart and desires were in the right place, God made a return commitment to him. God would build a royal “house” out of David’s descendants, and there would always be one of his sons ruling as king over God’s people.
Although the intervening years since the Babylonian exile had not allowed Jewish self-determination until very recently, and even though this new small freedom of the Jews failed to follow the Davidic dynasty in restoring the throne in Jerusalem, Matthew makes it clear that Jesus is indeed the one who will fulfill, both now and forever, God’s commitment to David. This he communicates powerfully in the opening chapters of the gospel.
First, Matthew makes sure his readers connect Jesus’ birth to David’s lineage in 1:1-17, including a special division of the years to indicate that God was about to act once again in salvation, and Jesus showed up at precisely the right time. Second, Jesus’ birth is as marvelous and mysterious and miraculous as were the births of Isaac and Samson and Samuel, great patriarchs and deliverers for ancient Israel. Jesus is another in the line of God’s special ambassadors to bring about the salvation of the people.
Third, when Jesus is born, nations far beyond these tiny borders recognize that an international ruler of transcendent significance has come to earth. Matthew alone records this story of the magi, not to make us speculate about who they were or how many came, or even what their names might have been. The essential point is clear: while in Jesus’ own homeland there remain bloody contests for local rule, within the international community the quest to finally find a King of consequence has been divinely channeled toward baby Jesus. The signs have been posted in the heavens.
The message of Epiphany is not about the mystery of the magi but about the divine revelation. God makes it abundantly clear that God is interrupting human affairs to bring a salvation that we cannot devise on our own. Jesus is not merely one among the many good religious leaders that have happened along through time; he is the Creator’s last and greatest attempt to bring us home. Christianity is not just one dimension of the multifaceted religious landscape that surrounds us in a pluralistic world; it holds the core doctrines that bring about the salvation of all.
Young Max was teamed with 24-year-old Joe, a single fellow who seemed to have his head on straight and who worked well with young people. Several weeks into the venture, however, Joe called the pastor in great distress. He wanted someone to put Max in his place and make him behave. Gently the pastor tried to soothe Joe’s obviously frayed nerves and calm him to a place where talk could regain its balance.
Slowly the problem emerged. Joe was fine with meeting Max now and again, and telling him some stuff about the Christian faith. He had even dropped the remark that Max could come by sometime, if he wanted, and the two of them could hang out together. Well, it seems as if Max thought Joe meant it, for he came by Joe’s house unannounced... in what turned out to be a very awkward moment. Joe had been in bed with his girlfriend, and there was no easy way to cover it up. Joe was embarrassed and turned it all on Max, blaming him for intruding on Joe’s personal life. Max, in turn, delivered a blistering accusation against Joe for being a phony, and said that if it was all right for Joe to have sex with his girlfriend, Max could do the same. Now Joe was caught in a host of moral lies and inconsistencies -- and the shouting match ended with Joe telling Max to get out, Max stomping off and slamming the door, and Joe calling the pastor in irritation over the whole mess.
What had begun as a venture in modeling Christian behavior to those entering adult religious responsibilities had turned into an object lesson in the moral quagmire of general church life. M. Scott Peck wrote that one of the most unlikely places to create true community in modern North American society is in the church, because we have bought into isolation and performance mentalities. Joe and Max only proved the truth of this, and they were but a symptom of a much larger problem in that and most of our congregations. We gather on Sundays to say pious things about God and morality, but we live isolated and hidden lives in which we too often don’t practice what we preach. When we get caught at our lies and deceptions, as in the case of Max and Joe, we attack each other or we complain that the system is broken.
Epiphany reminds us that the secret things will be brought to light. God shines a powerful beam into our world in the person of Jesus Christ. All who come into this radiance begin to glow or hide, depending on their lifestyle preference. Isaiah prays for the brilliance of God’s glory to rain down from heaven and illumine this sin-darkened world. Paul prays for God’s light to shine through the witness of the church of Jesus. And Matthew reminds us that some delight in the light of eternity, while others seek to snuff it out. Epiphany, the revealing of God into our world, is a moment of crisis.
Isaiah 60:1-6
Isaiah stands at the head of the collection of Old Testament prophets, for good reason. While he is not the earliest among them (Samuel was already considered a prophet three centuries before, and many of the first prophets noted in the Bible -- e.g., Nathan, Ahijah -- were evidently not “writing prophets”; they have bequeathed to us no documents to peruse), Isaiah is chief over them. He gave the prophetic message lyrical power, and addressed every theme that others would pursue only in part. Isaiah is the grand master of covenant prophecy.
According to the list of kings that Isaiah identifies, during whose reigns he received and declared messages from Yahweh, this prophet’s work spanned about 50 years (740-690 BC). For all of that time, Assyria was the constant superpower threat in his contemporary world. “Israel” (the northern portion of David and Solomon’s kingdom) had been split off from “Judah” for nearly 300 years (since 922 BC). Because of the tenacious advance of the Assyrian war machine, Israel was desperately seeking ways in which to form alliances that might hold it back for a time. Syria and Israel became partners throughout most of the 8th century BC, often as much by the sheer dominance of Syria’s military might coercing Israel into defensive pacts as by the choice of the Samaria-based government. This temperamental twosome made many overtures, both friendly and threatening, toward Judah, seeking to draw the smaller kingdom into their anti-Assyria alliances either by compliance or force. Throughout a succession of kings, Judah tried to retain its own identity in several ways:
* Uzziah chose to come under the protectorate of Israel, and thus allowed Judah to become a vassal province of the Israel-Syria alliance.
* Ahaz made an end run around his northern neighbors and appealed directly to Tiglath-pileser of Assyria for protection against Israel and Syria, hoping that in their destruction Judah would regain some of the old territory as its administrative district.
* Hezekiah first formed a tentative alliance with ambassadors from Babylon, as that eastern province of Assyria was beginning to stir in rebellion. Later he joined Egypt in a stop-payment of tribute to Assyria, which roused their ire against him until he was forced into reasserting submissive ties to Nineveh. Later, after a miraculous escape from what seemed an imminent crushing defeat by Assyrian forces, Hezekiah renewed his subversive contacts with Babylon.
All of these international political policies (and several more) were possible choices for tiny Judah. The prophets probed them all, assessing each according to the evaluation of Yahweh, and then asserting what they believed was the only political option true to the theology of the ancient Sinai covenant. In summary, these were the options:
* Join Egypt, the only nearby strong nation, in opposing Assyria.
* Join the Israel-Syria confederation in opposing Assyria.
* Declare allegiance to Assyria and become a vassal province of that empire, in hopes of reaping enlarged borders when the fighting was finished and northern neighbors Israel and Syria were destroyed.
* Ally with Babylon, the restless eastern province of Assyria, in hopes of an overthrow of Assyria, which would net independence in their remote mountainous locale.
* Stay neutral from all international alliances, relying solely on Yahweh for protection and deliverance.
Only this final piece of political and religious advice was put forward consistently by Isaiah and the other prophets. This was the single viable path open to those who truly believed that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations, and that Israel’s (Judah’s) mandate was to continue as a witness to the surrounding nations rather than becoming a subservient vassal to their gods and cultures.
Isaiah’s name meant “Salvation is of Yahweh,” and this truly typified his words and prophecies. He was married (Isaiah 8:3) and had at least two children (Isaiah 7:3, 8:3), who were themselves illustrations of Isaiah’s prophetic declarations. The commissioning scene of Isaiah 6, with its Temple location along with all of the liturgical language surrounding Isaiah’s call, suggests that Isaiah might have been a priest, or at least a member of a Levite family. At the same time, his easy and constant access to successive kings (cf. Isaiah 7:3, 38:1, 39:1) might imply that he was an employee of the royal court, although his statement in 37:6 (“Say to your master...”) could be interpreted as setting him outside of the political system, at least at some point. Nevertheless, with the narratives of chapters 36-39 incorporated directly into the book, Isaiah obviously was at minimum a court recorder or scribe or historian of some kind (see also 2 Chronicles 26:22). Most likely he was the chief historian in the royal house, and possibly even a member of the extended royal family. In his duties he appears to have functioned as the official scribe or court recorder. Using that platform as a pulpit, he expressed magnificently worded prophetic analyses and judgments about the religious and political actions of the kings.
Regardless of whether one person, or several from a community that was shaped by a larger-than-life teacher, wrote the various and combined oracles of Isaiah, the message is consistent throughout. Isaiah was overwhelmed by a divine commissioning (chapter 6) that took place in the Temple during the year that King Uzziah died. He was guided by the theology of the Sinai covenant (chapters 2-5), which mandated that Israel was supposed to have a unique lifestyle among the nations, a set of behaviors which would serve as a missional call for others to join this holy community in a global return to the ways of their Creator. He was confident that Yahweh could resolve all political problems (chapters 7-11), no matter how daunting they might seem. He believed Israel/Judah needed to repent (chapter 12), and to recover their original identity and purpose as Yahweh’s covenant partners and witnesses. He was certain that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations (chapters 13-35), even if Yahweh’s primary focus was attached to Israel/Judah. He heard the heartbeat of divine love and compassion, wrestling for the soul and destiny of Israel/Judah as a loved companion and partner (chapters 36-41). He saw Yahweh transforming Israel’s/Judah’s identity and fortunes through a “Suffering Servant” leader (chapters 42-53). He envisioned a future age in which all the world and every society and even the universe itself would be restored to harmony with its Creator and would resonate with magnificent glory (chapters 56-66).
Among the prophets of ancient Israel Isaiah was truly a prince, and his writings shaped the language of theological reflection among his peers and on into the age of the New Testament church.
Ephesians 3:1-12
Apocalyptic visioning is nothing new. Every civilization, and especially those that were dying, has had end-times doomsayers. Even the Bible shows evidence of that. When the Assyrians stormed through Israel and devastated it in 722 BC, little Judah to the south was engulfed in a cloud of moody and frightening prophecies, including dozens collected in Isaiah’s volume. The book of Revelation would serve much the same purpose in the early Christian church, as the early days of power and glory gave way to the darkening killing fields of persecution.
But the biblical apocalyptic visions never end in total annihilation. These nasty times are always the gateway to salvation and restoration and renewal. Into this tragedy-engulfed world, however, shines a light. It is a light of grace, a light of hope, a light of salvation, a light of transformation. It is, of course, a divine light, whose source is none other than Yahweh, the God of Israel and the Lord of the Nations. But this marvelous light of hope and restoration, on the apocalyptic battlefields of our world, is prismed through the faith community of God’s peculiar people.
The message is clear. Earth will not end with either a bang or a whimper, as T.S. Eliot presumed, but with the blazing light of divine love, which will restore and renew and resuscitate all things, until God’s good intentions are finally experienced by all. Whatever apocalyptic doom holds sway in any society is only the prelude to God’s next great act of re-creation, which will produce a great dance of re-creation among all of humanity.
The symbolic language of the Old Testament gains specificity in its New Testament realizations, of course. First of all, the prophetic “Day of the Lord” was split in two, so that the blessings of realized eschatology could begin with the Messiah’s first coming as a baby in Bethlehem, while the catastrophic divine cleansing would wait until a later date. Secondly, through Jesus and the Church that lived in the power of his Spirit, some of the shades and shadows of humanity’s self-destructive trammeling are pushed back, and pockets of glory shine around every congregation that throbs with the radiance of heaven. This is the perspective from which Paul briefly outlines the “mystery” now revealed through Jesus in our epistle reading for today.
The religion of the Bible is predicated on the assumption that all of experiential reality had a beginning and was brought into being by a creator, and that this deity desires an ongoing relationship with the worlds that exist. More particularly, this God nurtures a special longing to engage the human race as the unique and crowning species within the grand complexity of molecules and moons, of fish and fowl, of galaxies and granite, of emotions and electrons.
But in its understanding of this ongoing arm-wrestling of Creator and creature, biblical religion is deeply rooted in human history. This expression of values and ideas is not merely a moral construct that makes life easier. Nor is it a set of centering exercises which will keep the imminent more fully tuned to the transcendent. Instead, the story put forward in biblical literature is that the creatures of earth have lost their ability to apprehend or understand their Creator, and that the deity must necessarily take not only the first, but also many recurring steps in an effort to reconnect with them. So revelation is a concept involving both action and content. The deity must somehow interrupt the normal course of affairs in human existence in a way that will catch our attention. And when we have stopped to notice or ponder or even step back in fright, there must be some information which becomes accessible to us in a way that allows and encourages us to rethink the meaning of all things.
Matthew 2:1-12
There is a new star shining in the sky. Why? Because the world is dark, and expectations are limited. Only a new revelation can help the magi or ourselves find meaning. Not only that, but the darkness is so thick and bleak that Herod is himself completely taken over by it, and willing to perpetrate murder in hopes of keeping the darkness all to himself!
The literature of the Bible is rooted in two major divine interruptions into human history -- first, the events of the exodus and Sinai covenant that first created Israel as a missional nation, and then later the unusual and unrepeatable incarnation of deity in the person of Jesus Christ. All of the literature of the Bible is gathered around these two redemptive events and their implications. For this reason the Pentateuch and the gospels are the critical elements shaping the biblical religion. They are not codes of law or wise ethical teachings from a distinguished school of thought; they are the documents articulating an unusual intrusion of divine will into the human arena for the threefold purpose of actively transforming lives by redemptive transactions, teaching the Creator’s original worldview, and establishing a missional community which will live out and disseminate those perspectives.
If the Bible is to have any ongoing religious value, its two historical nodes of divine redemptive activity have to be taken seriously. Stripped of the exodus/Sinai covenant or of the redemptive divinity of Jesus, the Bible makes little sense. Suddenly its moral codes are no better than others that have been formed and articulated at various points throughout history; its pilgrimage images are little different from other quests for significance and the sacred; and its personalities become only another bunch of interesting heroes and drifters who give moral lessons through their flawed frolicking.
But if there is a God, and if that God wished to reclaim by creatorial right a relationship with those brought into being as an extension of the divine fellowship and heavenly energy, the Bible makes a good deal of sense. It is a collection of covenant documents that trace the divine redemptive mission through two stages: its early history in locating a transformed community at the crossroads of human society in order to be seen and desired, and its later expression through an expanding and transforming presence in every culture that tells the story of God along with the other tales of life. Paul finds himself helping the faith community of the Old Testament transition into this new age of mission. This is his special calling, and it is directly related to the great “mystery” of God’s intentions that have been hovering over us from the beginning.
Like the rest of literature, the Bible can be ignored or misread or improperly used. But like the best of literature, when allowed to speak from its own frame of reference and respected as a collection of documents that are inherently seeking to enhance human life rather than deviously attempting to exploit it, the Bible is truly, in a very powerful and exciting way, the Word of God.
Application
Epiphany is not about the marvel of seeing potential in a tiny baby. It is a reminder that the religion of the Bible is exclusive in its origins and in its message of salvation. This does not make Christianity petty or prideful; it simply means that once you know the larger story of God’s redemptive purposes toward our world, it is a privilege to share the Good News about Jesus!
Light is the key theme today, and the revelation it cast into dark places. Matthew’s specially selected story of the coming of the magi is a reminder that the Creator has not done all of this in some secret corner, but in the very religions of our world has left vestiges of human groping through blindness for a divine redemption. Let the Light shine! Shine, Jesus, shine!
Alternative Application
Matthew 2:1-12. The theme of Jesus’ royal identity is consistently emphasized throughout Matthew’s gospel, rooted directly in the covenant Yahweh made with David in 2 Samuel 7. There the themes of God’s house and David’s house came together in powerful symmetry. David wished to build a house for God, now that Israel was settled in the Promised Land. While God appreciated the appropriate desire on David’s part, through the prophet Nathan God communicated that it would be David’s son, a man of peace, who would take up that honor and responsibility. But because David’s heart and desires were in the right place, God made a return commitment to him. God would build a royal “house” out of David’s descendants, and there would always be one of his sons ruling as king over God’s people.
Although the intervening years since the Babylonian exile had not allowed Jewish self-determination until very recently, and even though this new small freedom of the Jews failed to follow the Davidic dynasty in restoring the throne in Jerusalem, Matthew makes it clear that Jesus is indeed the one who will fulfill, both now and forever, God’s commitment to David. This he communicates powerfully in the opening chapters of the gospel.
First, Matthew makes sure his readers connect Jesus’ birth to David’s lineage in 1:1-17, including a special division of the years to indicate that God was about to act once again in salvation, and Jesus showed up at precisely the right time. Second, Jesus’ birth is as marvelous and mysterious and miraculous as were the births of Isaac and Samson and Samuel, great patriarchs and deliverers for ancient Israel. Jesus is another in the line of God’s special ambassadors to bring about the salvation of the people.
Third, when Jesus is born, nations far beyond these tiny borders recognize that an international ruler of transcendent significance has come to earth. Matthew alone records this story of the magi, not to make us speculate about who they were or how many came, or even what their names might have been. The essential point is clear: while in Jesus’ own homeland there remain bloody contests for local rule, within the international community the quest to finally find a King of consequence has been divinely channeled toward baby Jesus. The signs have been posted in the heavens.
The message of Epiphany is not about the mystery of the magi but about the divine revelation. God makes it abundantly clear that God is interrupting human affairs to bring a salvation that we cannot devise on our own. Jesus is not merely one among the many good religious leaders that have happened along through time; he is the Creator’s last and greatest attempt to bring us home. Christianity is not just one dimension of the multifaceted religious landscape that surrounds us in a pluralistic world; it holds the core doctrines that bring about the salvation of all.
