Turn the Lights On!
Commentary
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 B.C., 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 recreation among all of humanity. This is the clear message of today’s lectionary passages, as the church celebrates God’s light overpowering the raging darkness.
Isaiah 60:1-6
The poetry and wisdom literature of the Old Testament have taken us on a brief side journey away from the historical flow of Israel’s covenant history. Turning to the prophets, we jump immediately into a boiling cauldron of international politics.
While the Hebrew prophets address many social issues, they cannot be understood if isolated from the political turmoil of their times. The prophets are social and political critics, constantly analyzing the actions of their own people, along with the affairs of the nations surrounding Israel, and making judgments about leaders and policies.
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 fifty years (740-690 B.C.). 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 three hundred years (since 922 B.C.). 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 eighth century, 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:
Who was Isaiah? His 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.
Although the elements of Isaiah’s prophecy, in their current literary form, have been pieced together from a variety of independent oracles, there is a logical flow to the whole of the book:
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. On Epiphany Sunday, we strain our eyes to see again with Isaiah the breaking through of heaven into earth, and the light of salvation illumining our darkened world.
Ephesians 3:1-12
Sometime after Paul, confined in Rome, sent his letter to the Philippians, carried by Pastor Epaphroditus, accompanied by Timothy (probably near the end of 58 A.D.), another visitor arrived. His coming would eventually elicit a whole new spate of letters from Paul. Onesimus, a runaway slave from Paul’s friend Philemon, came to Rome and found Paul. Perhaps Onesimus was overwhelmed by the alien environment of the big city, and heard that Paul, someone he had met a few years earlier, was in town. Or maybe Onesimus came to Rome specifically because he knew Paul was there, remembering how kindly Paul had treated him while the itinerant evangelist was staying at Philemon’s home. In any case, Onesimus and Paul had a joyful reunion, and for a time Onesimus lived with Paul, acting out the true meaning of his name: “useful.”
After a while, however, Paul began to have qualms about ignoring the property rights that bound Onesimus to Philemon. Paul was sure that sometime soon he would run into his old friend again, and this secret of Onesimus spending time with him would not come to light without great damage to their relationship. In fact, Paul was beginning to make plans for his next travels, since he expected to be released from prison very shortly. Evidently Paul had received word that his case was soon to be on Caesar’s docket, and knew from Herod Agrippa’s testimony (Acts 26:32) that royal judgment would clearly be in his favor. When freedom did come, Paul wanted to spend time with Philemon, as one stop on the next journey.
So, probably in early 59 A.D., Paul made plans to send Onesimus back to Philemon, accompanied by a trusted friend named Tychicus. Paul penned a short note to Philemon, explaining Onesimus’ circumstances of both frustration and faith, and pleading with his friend to treat the young man well.
About the same time, news came to Paul regarding a doctrinal controversy that was threatening the church in Colossae. This congregation had been established under the ministry of Epaphras (Colossians 1:7-8), a local believer who had originally come to faith through Paul’s ministry in nearby Ephesus (Colossians 4:12-13), just down the Lycus and Maeander river valleys.
Since Colossae was very close to Philemon’s home, Paul decided to send a letter to that congregation, addressing these threats to the church’s faithfulness and stability. Tychicus was asked to deliver this letter at the same time as he brought Paul’s personal note to Philemon (Colossians 4:7-9).
While he was in the writing mood, Paul also dictated a third letter, to be sent in the same direction at the same time. It was less personal and more general in the themes that it expressed than either of the others, and may well have been intended as a more generic epistle of encouragement to be circulated around the area churches. This letter seems to have arrived first in Laodicea (Colossians 4:16), and began a circuit around the regional congregations. Because Ephesus had been the launching pad for mission efforts throughout the region, the Christian congregation in Ephesus soon became recognized as the “mother church” of the rest, and probably came to be the official caretaker and repository of important documents. For that reason, this circular letter from Paul eventually ended up in Ephesus, became known as Paul’s letter to the “Ephesians.”
Paul’s third letter in this dispatch is shaped in nearly the same as his letter to the Colossians. Jesus is Lord of all, Paul fairly shouts at the beginning, producing wonderful new life in all who are part of the church (Ephesians 1). In place of Paul’s instructions about the false teaching at Colossae comes a brief reminder that Jews and Gentiles are together on the same footing before God because of the powerful redemptive work of Jesus (Ephesians 2). As he begins to celebrate this amazing grace of God through prayer (Ephesians 3:1), Paul interrupts himself, reminding his readers of the specific calling he has received to know and communicate this divine revelation (Ephesians 3:2-13). Then Paul resumes his powerful and profound prayer of praise (Ephesians 3:14-21), and launches into an extended metaphor on what it means for the living body of Christ to function in a dark world (Ephesians 4:1-5:20). Very similar to his instructions in Colossians 3, Paul outlines specific behaviors that are expected in Christian households (Ephesians 5:21--6:9).
In a brief but scintillatingly clear analogy, Paul dresses up the Christian warrior in full battle gear (Ephesians 6:10-20). Only one final note, telling of Tychicus’ mission on Paul’s behalf (Ephesians 6:21-22), and a short word of blessing (Ephesians 6:23-24), bring this letter to a close.
Paul’s letters from prison addressed a couple of specific issues -- the nature of a relationship between master and slave, for instance, when both were Christians, and a proper response to the false teaching that was being promulgated at Colossae. But mostly these writings paint, in vibrant colors, the character of moral choices in a world that is compromised and broken. Darkness and light are the key metaphors. Evil has wrapped a blanket of pain and harm around all that takes place in the human arena. Jesus is the brilliant light of God, penetrating earth’s atmosphere with grace and reconciliation. Because of Jesus’ physical departure at the ascension, his followers now must step in and become a thousand points of light, restoring relationships and renewing meaning. Jesus is great, and because of our connection with him, we can be great too. Not for our own sakes, of course, but as witnesses of the eschatological hope that tomorrow’s amazing future of God is something we already participate in today. That is why Christianity is the religion of the dawn.
Matthew 2:1-12
While built upon Mark’s earlier gospel manuscript, Matthew’s expansion includes the birth narratives of chapters 1-2, extensive inserts of Jesus’ teaching material (“the Sermon on the Mount” in chapters 5-7, missionary teachings in 10, kingdom parables in 13, instructions about the church community in 18, and the eschatological discourses of chapters 24-25), and a more fully developed conclusion (chapter 28). Our first glimpse of Jesus through this gospel’s lens clearly connects Jesus with the Jewish community (Matthew 1:1-17). Jesus is identified as a son of David and a son of Abraham. The link with Abraham ties Jesus to the unique covenantal community of Old Testament Israel, and all of the religious and missional implications that it carries. The filial relationship with David identifies Jesus as royal stock, and forms the basis for the many references in the gospel to consider Jesus as the true king of Israel or the Jews, based upon the eternal promise of Yaweh in 2 Samuel 7. Both of these themes are more fully developed throughout the gospel as a whole.
Matthew does a quick-step through a variety of incidents in Jesus’ early life to reveal even more about the essential character of this unique lad. Jesus, Matthew makes clear, is actually destined to replay or relive the life of Israel in a host of dimensions:
Later, as Matthew brings his preaching about Jesus to a close, he emphasizes Jesus’ kingship one more time. The last words of Jesus in the gospel are a royal declaration and commission. Jesus the risen king addresses his key leaders, the ones who will take the mission of Yahweh to the world (Matthew 28:18-20), and says to them: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”
History itself predicted that Yahweh, the God of Israel, was about to do something really big, said Matthew (1:1-17). As Yahweh had done in the past, now again he raised up a miraculously-born and commissioned savior (1:18-25). This time the deliverer was announced as king of God’s people with global impact (2:1-23), and his own life circumstances paralleled and replayed Israel’s own existence. When he rose up as leader (4), the old covenant was confirmed and updated (5-7). Then, embarking on a deliberate campaign to reclaim his throne (7-21), this son of David was challenged on all fronts (22-27). By overcoming death itself, Jesus claimed “all authority,” and reinvigorated the divine mission begun with Abraham. “Go and make disciples of all nations…”
The King has come! Long live the King!
Application
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.
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 on-going 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 on-going 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.
It is in this sense that we need to understand the power of today’s scripture readings. 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 perpetuate murder in hopes of keeping the darkness all to himself!
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 Sunday 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 hold the core doctrines that bring about the salvation of all.
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!
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 recreation among all of humanity. This is the clear message of today’s lectionary passages, as the church celebrates God’s light overpowering the raging darkness.
Isaiah 60:1-6
The poetry and wisdom literature of the Old Testament have taken us on a brief side journey away from the historical flow of Israel’s covenant history. Turning to the prophets, we jump immediately into a boiling cauldron of international politics.
While the Hebrew prophets address many social issues, they cannot be understood if isolated from the political turmoil of their times. The prophets are social and political critics, constantly analyzing the actions of their own people, along with the affairs of the nations surrounding Israel, and making judgments about leaders and policies.
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 fifty years (740-690 B.C.). 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 three hundred years (since 922 B.C.). 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 eighth century, 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 a 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.
- 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.
Who was Isaiah? His 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.
Although the elements of Isaiah’s prophecy, in their current literary form, have been pieced together from a variety of independent oracles, there is a logical flow to the whole of the book:
- 1-39 -- The judgmental prophet caught up in the intrigues of political challenges, and finding only Hezekiah to be a like-minded reformer.
- 40-55 (“Deutero-Isaiah”) -- The empathetic visionary who sees that the only way to a new future is through a cleansing period of repentance and renewal led by the “Suffering Servant.”
- 56-66 (“Trito-Isaiah”) -- The visionary poet who sees a bright future in which God restores Israel, and in so doing renews all of creation, including the nations that have formerly been viewed as enemies and national threats.
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. On Epiphany Sunday, we strain our eyes to see again with Isaiah the breaking through of heaven into earth, and the light of salvation illumining our darkened world.
Ephesians 3:1-12
Sometime after Paul, confined in Rome, sent his letter to the Philippians, carried by Pastor Epaphroditus, accompanied by Timothy (probably near the end of 58 A.D.), another visitor arrived. His coming would eventually elicit a whole new spate of letters from Paul. Onesimus, a runaway slave from Paul’s friend Philemon, came to Rome and found Paul. Perhaps Onesimus was overwhelmed by the alien environment of the big city, and heard that Paul, someone he had met a few years earlier, was in town. Or maybe Onesimus came to Rome specifically because he knew Paul was there, remembering how kindly Paul had treated him while the itinerant evangelist was staying at Philemon’s home. In any case, Onesimus and Paul had a joyful reunion, and for a time Onesimus lived with Paul, acting out the true meaning of his name: “useful.”
After a while, however, Paul began to have qualms about ignoring the property rights that bound Onesimus to Philemon. Paul was sure that sometime soon he would run into his old friend again, and this secret of Onesimus spending time with him would not come to light without great damage to their relationship. In fact, Paul was beginning to make plans for his next travels, since he expected to be released from prison very shortly. Evidently Paul had received word that his case was soon to be on Caesar’s docket, and knew from Herod Agrippa’s testimony (Acts 26:32) that royal judgment would clearly be in his favor. When freedom did come, Paul wanted to spend time with Philemon, as one stop on the next journey.
So, probably in early 59 A.D., Paul made plans to send Onesimus back to Philemon, accompanied by a trusted friend named Tychicus. Paul penned a short note to Philemon, explaining Onesimus’ circumstances of both frustration and faith, and pleading with his friend to treat the young man well.
About the same time, news came to Paul regarding a doctrinal controversy that was threatening the church in Colossae. This congregation had been established under the ministry of Epaphras (Colossians 1:7-8), a local believer who had originally come to faith through Paul’s ministry in nearby Ephesus (Colossians 4:12-13), just down the Lycus and Maeander river valleys.
Since Colossae was very close to Philemon’s home, Paul decided to send a letter to that congregation, addressing these threats to the church’s faithfulness and stability. Tychicus was asked to deliver this letter at the same time as he brought Paul’s personal note to Philemon (Colossians 4:7-9).
While he was in the writing mood, Paul also dictated a third letter, to be sent in the same direction at the same time. It was less personal and more general in the themes that it expressed than either of the others, and may well have been intended as a more generic epistle of encouragement to be circulated around the area churches. This letter seems to have arrived first in Laodicea (Colossians 4:16), and began a circuit around the regional congregations. Because Ephesus had been the launching pad for mission efforts throughout the region, the Christian congregation in Ephesus soon became recognized as the “mother church” of the rest, and probably came to be the official caretaker and repository of important documents. For that reason, this circular letter from Paul eventually ended up in Ephesus, became known as Paul’s letter to the “Ephesians.”
Paul’s third letter in this dispatch is shaped in nearly the same as his letter to the Colossians. Jesus is Lord of all, Paul fairly shouts at the beginning, producing wonderful new life in all who are part of the church (Ephesians 1). In place of Paul’s instructions about the false teaching at Colossae comes a brief reminder that Jews and Gentiles are together on the same footing before God because of the powerful redemptive work of Jesus (Ephesians 2). As he begins to celebrate this amazing grace of God through prayer (Ephesians 3:1), Paul interrupts himself, reminding his readers of the specific calling he has received to know and communicate this divine revelation (Ephesians 3:2-13). Then Paul resumes his powerful and profound prayer of praise (Ephesians 3:14-21), and launches into an extended metaphor on what it means for the living body of Christ to function in a dark world (Ephesians 4:1-5:20). Very similar to his instructions in Colossians 3, Paul outlines specific behaviors that are expected in Christian households (Ephesians 5:21--6:9).
In a brief but scintillatingly clear analogy, Paul dresses up the Christian warrior in full battle gear (Ephesians 6:10-20). Only one final note, telling of Tychicus’ mission on Paul’s behalf (Ephesians 6:21-22), and a short word of blessing (Ephesians 6:23-24), bring this letter to a close.
Paul’s letters from prison addressed a couple of specific issues -- the nature of a relationship between master and slave, for instance, when both were Christians, and a proper response to the false teaching that was being promulgated at Colossae. But mostly these writings paint, in vibrant colors, the character of moral choices in a world that is compromised and broken. Darkness and light are the key metaphors. Evil has wrapped a blanket of pain and harm around all that takes place in the human arena. Jesus is the brilliant light of God, penetrating earth’s atmosphere with grace and reconciliation. Because of Jesus’ physical departure at the ascension, his followers now must step in and become a thousand points of light, restoring relationships and renewing meaning. Jesus is great, and because of our connection with him, we can be great too. Not for our own sakes, of course, but as witnesses of the eschatological hope that tomorrow’s amazing future of God is something we already participate in today. That is why Christianity is the religion of the dawn.
Matthew 2:1-12
While built upon Mark’s earlier gospel manuscript, Matthew’s expansion includes the birth narratives of chapters 1-2, extensive inserts of Jesus’ teaching material (“the Sermon on the Mount” in chapters 5-7, missionary teachings in 10, kingdom parables in 13, instructions about the church community in 18, and the eschatological discourses of chapters 24-25), and a more fully developed conclusion (chapter 28). Our first glimpse of Jesus through this gospel’s lens clearly connects Jesus with the Jewish community (Matthew 1:1-17). Jesus is identified as a son of David and a son of Abraham. The link with Abraham ties Jesus to the unique covenantal community of Old Testament Israel, and all of the religious and missional implications that it carries. The filial relationship with David identifies Jesus as royal stock, and forms the basis for the many references in the gospel to consider Jesus as the true king of Israel or the Jews, based upon the eternal promise of Yaweh in 2 Samuel 7. Both of these themes are more fully developed throughout the gospel as a whole.
Matthew does a quick-step through a variety of incidents in Jesus’ early life to reveal even more about the essential character of this unique lad. Jesus, Matthew makes clear, is actually destined to replay or relive the life of Israel in a host of dimensions:
- Jesus copies Israel’s miraculous existence and purpose, born through divine intervention as savior of nations (1:18-25).
- He is spared from the murderous intents of a scheming king (2:3-8) who goes on to slaughter the innocents (2:16-18), just as Moses was delivered in Exodus 2 while many Israelite boys were slaughtered.
- Like the nation as a whole, Jesus is gathered out of Egypt (2:15).
- From his earliest days, he is dedicated to a divine mission (so the play on the words “Nazirite” and “Nazarene” in 2:23).
- His ministry is set in motion by passing through waters (3), right at the same spot where Israel crossed the Jordan River in order to begin its witness to the nations from the Promised Land.
- Jesus also wanders in the wilderness for forty days (4:1-11) before he can fully assume his adult responsibilities, mirroring Israel’s traumatic forty years described in the book of Numbers.
Later, as Matthew brings his preaching about Jesus to a close, he emphasizes Jesus’ kingship one more time. The last words of Jesus in the gospel are a royal declaration and commission. Jesus the risen king addresses his key leaders, the ones who will take the mission of Yahweh to the world (Matthew 28:18-20), and says to them: “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”
History itself predicted that Yahweh, the God of Israel, was about to do something really big, said Matthew (1:1-17). As Yahweh had done in the past, now again he raised up a miraculously-born and commissioned savior (1:18-25). This time the deliverer was announced as king of God’s people with global impact (2:1-23), and his own life circumstances paralleled and replayed Israel’s own existence. When he rose up as leader (4), the old covenant was confirmed and updated (5-7). Then, embarking on a deliberate campaign to reclaim his throne (7-21), this son of David was challenged on all fronts (22-27). By overcoming death itself, Jesus claimed “all authority,” and reinvigorated the divine mission begun with Abraham. “Go and make disciples of all nations…”
The King has come! Long live the King!
Application
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.
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 on-going 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 on-going 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.
It is in this sense that we need to understand the power of today’s scripture readings. 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 perpetuate murder in hopes of keeping the darkness all to himself!
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 Sunday 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 hold the core doctrines that bring about the salvation of all.
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!
