What's in it for me?
Commentary
On this tenth day of Christmas we might well wonder what gifts are left to enjoy. The song tells us that on this day "my true love gave to me ten lords aleaping," but my guess is that most of us might be looking for something different now that Christmas has all but disappeared. What would anyone do with a leaping lord anyway?
Perhaps it is time to think of a Lord who came to stick it out all the way to death rather than a leaping Lord attached to a bungee cord -- as some ancient Gnostics would have us believe. And because Jesus our Lord stuck it out, he left us with a variety of gifts.
The accident of calendar provides us one more Sunday to celebrate Christmas, to sing our carols and to ponder the unfathomable truth that "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us." Yet our opportunity this Sunday is not simply to rejoice over the Incarnation itself. We can ask boldly "what's in it for me?" and receive answers galore from our three lessons.
Jeremiah 31:7-14
Our pericope consists of two distinct parts, but together they pack a wallop of celebration over restoration and salvation. They summon us to sing for joy, and they splash before our eyes a picture of salvation that is at once moving and festive.
The first part of the lesson, verses 7-9, calls upon its hearers to break into song over the people of Israel as they return to their homeland. A reminder of history might serve well. Back in the eighth century B.C. the Assyrian Empire devastated the northern kingdom of Israel. Tiglath-pileser III struck Israel, overrunning Galilee and Transjordan in 734-733 and exiling much of the population to other parts of the Empire (2 Kings 15:29). Leaving only a small portion of the country to pay tribute, Tiglath-pileser was succeeded by his son Shalmaneser V, who had the privilege of demolishing Samaria in 721.
Our pericope prophesies the return of those people exiled by Assyria. The recipients of the Lord's salvation are called by various names in the pericope. Jacob (v. 7), is, of course, the name of the patriarch whose experiences related in the Book of Genesis place him in the territory of what became the land of Israel, the northern kingdom. That Jacob is "the chief of the nations" could hardly be claimed by any other than its own or by one bent on ridicule (see Amos 6:1). Yet, as the passage goes on, this description is appropriate for those who are called to be God's people, "the remnant of Israel," and the "firstborn" son of God (v. 9).
That epithet at the end of this poem is, in fact, the reason for the entire celebration. Ephraim is the name given to the Lord's firstborn. Ephraim was one of the grandchildren of Jacob, specifically one of the sons of Joseph, and the tribe by that name occupied the largest section of territory in the northern kingdom of Israel. Like Jacob, the name Ephraim applies to the people, and the people is the firstborn of the Lord.
That relationship of Israel to the Lord provided the basis for the exodus from the land of Egypt (Exodus 4:22). Since those exodus traditions were preserved in the northern kingdom, it was only logical that the same relationship would serve as the motive for the people's salvation from a later bondage and their restoration to the Promised Land: "for I have become a father to Israel, and Ephraim is my firstborn" (v. 9). As the reading that provides background for the powerful introduction to John's Gospel, we might wonder about the connection with the firstborn as the motive for salvation.
The return from Assyria, the north country, will consist of a remarkable procession. They will not be the strong of the land, the mighty warriors and princes, or the proud. Rather, the parade will feature the blind and the lame, pregnant women and women who have just delivered their infant children. The vulnerable of the people will be gathered for the return home, cared for by the Lord's guidance along streams of water and on paths that are smooth for walking. What an announcement that those who come home are those who bring new life for the community as it resettles the land.
The second part of the pericope punctuates the joy of the first. Verses 10-14 address the nations with the news that the Lord "who scattered Israel will gather him." The announcement is clear that the exile of God's people was due to nothing other than the Lord's judgment (see also Jeremiah 29:4) and that their salvation is likewise exclusively an act of the Lord. That this act of salvation is declared "in the coastlands afar off" indicates God's reach beyond the confines of Israel. See Psalm 97:1 and Isaiah 24:15 where the coastlands give glory to God, and Isaiah 41:1; 42:4, 10, 12 for the universal praise of God. The salvation of Israel, in other words, bears a message for the whole world and calls the world to respond (see also Isaiah 52:10).
The act of the Lord here is defined as "ransom" and "redeem"; both words are used together also at Isaiah 35:10-11 and often in the writings attributed to Second Isaiah. That prophet, too, addressed exiles with the message of the impending salvation. Both words emphasize the liberty that ensues after the acts, but the word "redeem" points to the special relationship of the Lord to Israel, because a "redeemer" is the closest of kin who pays damages so that the prisoner can go free.
The freedom in this poem is portrayed with beautiful and peaceful images. The people shall come home singing and shine radiant over the Lord's goodness. That goodness will be evident in the harvest as well as among the herds, and their lives will resemble the peace and tranquility of watered gardens. Dancing and merriment will bring men and women, old and young together in a party that bridges the generation gap and the great gender divide.
Our pericope ends appropriately with the reminder that all this blessing is due to the work of the Lord. The divine "I will" introduces the verbs that excite visions of transformation. "I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them," sounds so much like the call of Third Isaiah at Isaiah 61:1-2 and like the emphasis throughout Second Isaiah on the comforting work of the Lord (Isaiah 40:1; 51:3, 12; 52:9 in parallelism with "redeemed"). While on the one hand the comforting work of God is identical to the physical salvation from exile, on the other hand it reverses the impact of mourning on the lives of people. It is perhaps in that dual capacity that Jesus used the promise of comfort in an eschatological sense to describe the transformations that come with the kingdom of God (see Matthew 5:4).
Jeremiah's answer to "What's in it for me?" is a room full of joy and comfort, packaged in wrapping with salvation written all over it.
Ephesians 1:3-14
If Paul wrote this letter to the Ephesians, he certainly changed many of the major theological emphases he announced so clearly in Romans, Galatians, and Corinthians. However, that the author of this epistle bears many marks of Paul's writings and teachings is also clear from the development of some of the key ideas.
Whoever wrote this letter, the purpose seems clear in the material itself: to announce the divine plan, hidden from the world but now revealed to the church, that through the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ, a new universal community has been formed in which are erased all the separations among people that the world seems to cherish.
Verses 3-14 comprise a hymn that celebrates the revealing of the mystery of God's plan through Jesus Christ. Typical of Jewish hymns, this one begins with the pronouncement of blessing to God and continues with the list of reasons why God should be so blessed and praised. The first reason for blessing God is that God has blessed us "in the heavenly places." This expression, common in Ephesians and unique to Ephesians (see also 1:20; 2:6; 3:10; 6:12), introduces the concept that God's universal plan, known previously only in heavenly places, has now been brought into the human sphere with the coming of Christ. The pericope is thus most appropriate for the Christmas season, especially alongside the hymn of John 1 that announces the Incarnation of the word of God.
Here, however, the emphasis is not on the Incarnation per se but on the gift of "redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses" (v. 7). The word "redemption" in the New Testament epistles and the corresponding word in English "redeem" in our first lesson from Jeremiah have little to do with each other in one sense and everything in another sense. As we discussed above, the verb "redeem" and the noun "redeemer" in the Old Testament describe the action of a next of kin who pays damages so that an accused relative might go free. The word "redemption" in the New Testament derives from the imagery of a slave market and describes the act of buying a slave's freedom. According to some ancient sacred manumission contracts, a slave might buy his own freedom by depositing his meager allowance in the name of a god at the treasury of a sanctuary, for example, Delphi. When the sufficient amount was maintained, the slave would go free, belonging now to the god who had purchased him through the contract.
While the two testaments derive their terms from different backgrounds, the net result is basically the same: freedom from bondage or imprisonment. That freedom is purchased not through the savings of the enslaved but through the blood of Christ, and the freedom is defined not as release from empirical bondage but as forgiveness of the trespasses that constrain us from living the lives God made us to live.
Freed from that constraint, the author's hymn tells his readers, they are now the children God had destined them to be, God's own children. The emphasis on this relationship of Father to children is so emphatic that one would have to think of the possibility of this hymn's origin in baptism. Apart from the destiny to be God's children in verse 5, the note that they were "marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit" in verse 13 leaps out of the baptismal font. The notion that this Holy Spirit has been "promised" recalls such divine pledges as "I will put my spirit within you" (Ezekiel 36:27) and even more profoundly the eschatological expression "I will pour out my spirit on all flesh" (Joel 2:28-29). The latter promise is particularly related to the hymn in Ephesians because it speaks of the gift of the Spirit as leveling the barriers that separate people from one another on the basis of gender, age, and social status. Those are many of the same issues with which the author of Ephesians is concerned, even about which he enthralls. God in Christ has called together a new community, for "in his flesh he has made both camps into one and has broken down the dividing wall" (2:14), "that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two" (v. 15), that is, Jew and Gentile. The promised Holy Spirit with which each baptized Christian is sealed makes one universal family, all God's children.
The hymn does not let Christians off the hook of responsibility. Indeed, the words boldly proclaim why such a universal family should exist: "for the praise of his glory" (vv. 6, 12, 14). The praise of God is our reason for living. It is the role we play as God's adopted children. It is the function of those who are heirs of redemption. And it is not unlike other such hymns. Consider the conclusion to the pre-Pauline hymn at Philippians 2:6-11. The humiliation and exaltation of Christ took place "so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (italics mine).
Perhaps this hymn in Ephesians 1:3-14 provides as clear a picture as we can get about why God went to so much trouble to make us all children. It is a message that needs to be heard. In our day when so many claim to wonder about the meaning of their lives and their role in the world, here it is: to live to the praise of God.
That's what is in it for me.
John 1:(1-9) 10-18
The Prologue to John's Gospel has been variously interpreted over the years. The major distinctions in its exegesis have been not in the details but in the proper background against which we are to understand the entire piece.
The Greek word for "word" is, of course, logos, and as a result of that obvious connection the background had been sought traditionally in Greek philosophy. Recent scholarship has focused attention on Hellenistic possibilities, that is, on the mixture of Greek and Semitic ideologies that became common with the advance of Alexander the Great in the last third of the fourth century B.C. Particularly interesting is the possibility of looking at the prologue from the perspective of a Hellenistic hymn about wisdom.
While wisdom in its infancy was basically a matter of teaching youngsters about the ordering of the world and the proper participation in that ordering (what occupies most of the Book of Proverbs and other similar literature in other cultures), wisdom grew up to develop into something more personal, even divine. Even in the Book of Proverbs we have several examples of wisdom's adolescence, for in chapter 8:22-32 Wisdom speaks of itself as the first of the acts of God's creation and of playing alongside the Creator while the universe was formed. In the following chapter Wisdom speaks as a Lady who invites learners to a sumptuous (and free!) meal and to an education that will enable them to live.
From early in the first half of the second century B.C. comes the Book of the Wisdom of Jesus ben Sirach, alias Ecclesiasticus. Throughout this book it is clear that Wisdom and Word, and even Torah, had become so intertwined that the reader has difficulty determining differences among them. The book's familiarity to Jesus and the writers of the New Testament is obvious from such connections as the summary at Matthew 11:25-30, especially verses 28-30, of the words Wisdom speaks at Sirach 51:23-27.
At least as significant is Sirach 24:1-12, which is listed as the alternate first lesson for this Sunday. (It provides a much clearer connection with John 1:1-18 than the passage from Jeremiah 31.) Speaking in the assembly of the Most High, Wisdom tells of her history. She came forth from the mouth of the Most High (thus, like the word) and dwelt in the heavens, though her travels took her into every nook and cranny of the three-storied universe. She simply could not, however, find a community worth moving into, and so the Creator assigned her "the place for my tent" (24:8). That place was "in Jacob," that is, Israel, and in particular Mount Zion in Jerusalem. While the home site was being selected, Wisdom recalls her origin lest we forget: "Before the ages, in the beginning, he created me, and for all the ages I shall not cease to be" (v. 9).
It is indeed possible that the imagery of Wisdom, here in Sirach 24 and in many other places, provided some of the background for what the early church believed and announced about Jesus. In this Prologue, in particular, the notion of the Word "in the beginning," the statement that "all things came into being through him" (compare Proverbs 3:19-20 with Genesis 1), the coming "to his own," and even "the children of God" -- all point to Wisdom backgrounds. In fact, the words that highlight the Incarnation itself, "became flesh and dwelt among us" (v. 14), point us to the "tent" of Sirach 24 because the Greek word for "dwelt" means literally "pitch a tent."
On the other hand, it is possible to interpret verses 9 through 15 on the basis of historical reflections of Israel's past and the coming of Christ. "In the world but not yet known by the world" could refer to the Lord in the period between Adam and Moses. "His coming to his own people but not received by them" is the story of the Sinai law. "The children of God" might be the faithful remnant of which the prophets speak. "The word becoming flesh" is obviously an indication of the Incarnation, and the reference to beholding his glory might point to the Transfiguration.
No matter how we view the background to this Prologue, it does provide with one of the most profound and beautiful descriptions of the meaning of the Incarnation. If we think about the usual sequence and dating of the four gospels (Mark, then Matthew and Luke, and John last), we discover a progression in their announcements about the divinity of Jesus. Because Mark's Gospel opens when Jesus was already an adult, the implication is that Jesus became the Son of God at his baptism (Mark 1:11). Matthew and Luke, however, push the divinity of Jesus back to his conception in Mary's womb through their announcements by an angelic messenger to Joseph and to Mary respectively. John, however, goes all the way back "to the beginning" to announce that the word that became flesh and dwelt among us "was God" (1:1).
Throughout the Prologue appear words that will become themes in John's Gospel. "Life" is John's answer to "the kingdom of God" in the Synoptics and becomes focused particularly in Jesus' discussion with Nicodemus in chapter 3. "Light," originally associated with God the Creator in Genesis 1, becomes one of the titles Jesus claims for himself (8:12). Likewise, "truth" is part of one of the "I am" sayings (14:6) and becomes critical in the discussion of Jesus and Pilate (18:37-38) and in Jesus' conversation with the Judeans in the temple (8:31-32; cf. v. 36).
But what's in it for us? Perhaps the question needs to be raised on this second Sunday after Christmas when the gifts have been relegated to drawers and closets. What do we get out of all this hullabaloo about Jesus' origin and the Incarnation of the Word?
Four gifts stand out in the pericope, probably more if you look behind the sofa. First, we are enlightened by the true light that had come into the world. Much of our lives might be lived in darkness, tripping over familiar furnishings, losing our sense of direction, groping for stability and security. Against the darkness the light shines to guide us, inform us, cheer us, even identify us. Second, we become "children of God," not thanks to any physical act but born of God. That birth is the "new birth" about which Jesus speaks to Nicodemus, and so we receive new identities along with a new Parent. Third, "from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace" (v. 16). Jesus was so full of grace that it spilled over on us, and it truly is "amazing" because it saved the likes of us sinners, found us when we were lost, and gives us sight when life is nothing but a painful blur. And fourth, we have received and continue to receive the knowledge of who God is through the revelation in the Son. While we and the rest of the world look in vain for a knowledge of God in nature or in our own contemplation or in scientific theories about creation, it is the Son "who has made him known" (v. 18).
Such are the gifts God had given us even when all that remains of our Christmas celebration are pine needles sticking in the rug. Among the remaining gifts is not one single bungee cord.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Jeremiah 31:7-14
Jeremiah 31 is a part of what has been known as the Little Book of Comfort that is made up of chapters 30 and 31 in the Jeremiah corpus, and that announces the Lord's future salvation of the people whom he has sent into Assyrian and Babylonian exiles on account of their sin. The introduction to chapter 31, verse 1, states that the salvation is intended for both the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel, and 31:2-20 are specifically directed to the peoples of the northern kingdom. Thus, we have mention of Samaria (v. 5), Jacob (vv. 7, 11), Ephraim (vv. 6, 9, 18, 20), and Rachel (v. 15), all of the north, which fell to the Assyrians in 721 B.C. It is held by many scholars, therefore, that these are later additions to Jeremiah's ministry that covered the years from 626 to about 584 B.C. It is possible, however, that Jeremiah proclaimed salvation for the northern as well as the southern peoples of Israel.
Chapter 31:2-20 divides itself into three sections: verses 2-6, which are joined to verses 7-9 by the word "For" at the beginning of verse 7; verses 10-14; and verses 15-20. Each section envisions the future salvation of Jacob/Ephraim, their return to their land of Samaria, and then their pilgrimage to worship the Lord in Zion.
These people, states our text, are the first-born adopted son of God (v. 9). That is a familiar thought throughout the Old Testament. At the time of his deliverance of his people out of slavery in Egypt, the Lord not only freed the Israelites, but said they were his family members and adopted them as his son (cf. Hosea 11:1; Exodus 4:22-23; Jeremiah 3:19). Thus his deliverance of them from Egypt was his "redemption" of them, his "buying back" of his family member, as in Jeremiah 31:11.
The apostle Paul draws on that terminology when he writes that we Christians have also been redeemed from our slavery, this time to sin and death, by Jesus Christ. We have been adopted as God's children, he writes, so that we can call God "Abba! Father!" (Galatians 4:4-7). Our story of redemption therefore parallels Israel's, and this is our history. What, then, is the content of the salvation promised to Israel and to us? Several pictures are used in our text.
First, there is the portrayal of the salvation of those who are weak and helpless. Jeremiah states that among the remnant that will be saved are the blind and the lame, the woman with child or in travail (v. 8), and those who are captive to "hands too strong for" them (v. 11). That could be the picture of our captivity too, could it not -- that we are prisoners to our sin, unable to break the bonds of the wrong that wraps itself around our lives and therefore helpless. But God promises Israel that he will free them from those who imprison them in exile, and surely God has freed us from the sin in our life that so imprisons and distorts our living by sending his Son Jesus Christ. None of us here need think our lives are hopeless. None need believe they cannot wipe out the past. God in Jesus Christ delivers us from every power that would bind and hinder our living, from every obstacle that would prevent our reunion with the Father, and we are freed to return to God's presence as his beloved children.
Second, our text portrays the gathering of the redeemed to Zion to praise and to worship God (vv. 6, 8, 12), and that of course is what we do every Sunday, isn't it? We, the redeemed children of the Lord, gather in this place where God is present to "sing aloud with gladness" and to "give praise and say, 'The Lord has saved (us) his people' " (v. 7). Now we have entrance to the presence of the living God. Now we can approach his throne with confidence, because Jesus Christ has died for our sin and opened the way to the Father.
Third, as we gather for worship and then go out from this "Zion" of ours, we can be "radiant over the goodness of the Lord," as redeemed Israel would be radiant (v. 12). For what does the Lord furnish us here in our worship and in our daily activities? Surely, here in his presence, we are given not only God's forgiveness, but also his comfort for our distress and tribulations, his guidance for our decisions, his correction of our wayward ways, his directions through his Word about how to have his life and have it abundantly. Then as we go out, he accompanies us in our daily round, keeping us "as a shepherd keeps his flock" (v. 10), furnishing us with the necessities of our lives (v. 12), so that we are "like a watered garden," says our text (v. 12), tended, cared for, nourished. By the vitality of the Spirit in which God goes with us, we can blossom and bring forth fruit for his purposes. As the Psalmist sings, those who trust in the Lord and follow his ways are "... like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in it season, and its leaf does not wither" (Psalm 1:3). For those who worship and live in the Spirit of Jesus Christ and serve him, their lives can be productive and have meaning, because they serve the purposes of God.
Fourth, we should note the characteristics of the picture of salvation given us in our text. What does it entail? Planting crops, enjoying the harvest (v. 5), dancing, having fun at a party (v. 13), basking in the satisfaction given by the goodness of the Lord (v. 14) -- in short, normal, decent, enjoyable everyday life. We often think of salvation as a state of perfection in the future, and so it is in parts of the Bible (cf. 1 Corinthians 13:12). But there is also a foretaste of God's salvation in Jesus Christ given to us now -- the joy and gladness of which our text speaks (v. 13), the comfort, the satisfaction of human life returned to the way God meant it to be in the beginning. A good life, a decent life, a meaningful and productive life -- these are offered to us now by the work of God in his Son our Lord.
God did not give up on the Israelites whom he sent into exile because of their sin against him. And God does not give up on us either. Rather, he sent us his Son, born at Bethlehem, to redeem us and to reclaim us as his beloved children. And through that Son he offers us not only salvation in the future in his eternal kingdom, but he also offers us his goodness now, in days full of satisfaction and of joy. We have only to open our hearts and lives, in trust, to receive his amazing gifts.
Perhaps it is time to think of a Lord who came to stick it out all the way to death rather than a leaping Lord attached to a bungee cord -- as some ancient Gnostics would have us believe. And because Jesus our Lord stuck it out, he left us with a variety of gifts.
The accident of calendar provides us one more Sunday to celebrate Christmas, to sing our carols and to ponder the unfathomable truth that "the Word became flesh and dwelt among us." Yet our opportunity this Sunday is not simply to rejoice over the Incarnation itself. We can ask boldly "what's in it for me?" and receive answers galore from our three lessons.
Jeremiah 31:7-14
Our pericope consists of two distinct parts, but together they pack a wallop of celebration over restoration and salvation. They summon us to sing for joy, and they splash before our eyes a picture of salvation that is at once moving and festive.
The first part of the lesson, verses 7-9, calls upon its hearers to break into song over the people of Israel as they return to their homeland. A reminder of history might serve well. Back in the eighth century B.C. the Assyrian Empire devastated the northern kingdom of Israel. Tiglath-pileser III struck Israel, overrunning Galilee and Transjordan in 734-733 and exiling much of the population to other parts of the Empire (2 Kings 15:29). Leaving only a small portion of the country to pay tribute, Tiglath-pileser was succeeded by his son Shalmaneser V, who had the privilege of demolishing Samaria in 721.
Our pericope prophesies the return of those people exiled by Assyria. The recipients of the Lord's salvation are called by various names in the pericope. Jacob (v. 7), is, of course, the name of the patriarch whose experiences related in the Book of Genesis place him in the territory of what became the land of Israel, the northern kingdom. That Jacob is "the chief of the nations" could hardly be claimed by any other than its own or by one bent on ridicule (see Amos 6:1). Yet, as the passage goes on, this description is appropriate for those who are called to be God's people, "the remnant of Israel," and the "firstborn" son of God (v. 9).
That epithet at the end of this poem is, in fact, the reason for the entire celebration. Ephraim is the name given to the Lord's firstborn. Ephraim was one of the grandchildren of Jacob, specifically one of the sons of Joseph, and the tribe by that name occupied the largest section of territory in the northern kingdom of Israel. Like Jacob, the name Ephraim applies to the people, and the people is the firstborn of the Lord.
That relationship of Israel to the Lord provided the basis for the exodus from the land of Egypt (Exodus 4:22). Since those exodus traditions were preserved in the northern kingdom, it was only logical that the same relationship would serve as the motive for the people's salvation from a later bondage and their restoration to the Promised Land: "for I have become a father to Israel, and Ephraim is my firstborn" (v. 9). As the reading that provides background for the powerful introduction to John's Gospel, we might wonder about the connection with the firstborn as the motive for salvation.
The return from Assyria, the north country, will consist of a remarkable procession. They will not be the strong of the land, the mighty warriors and princes, or the proud. Rather, the parade will feature the blind and the lame, pregnant women and women who have just delivered their infant children. The vulnerable of the people will be gathered for the return home, cared for by the Lord's guidance along streams of water and on paths that are smooth for walking. What an announcement that those who come home are those who bring new life for the community as it resettles the land.
The second part of the pericope punctuates the joy of the first. Verses 10-14 address the nations with the news that the Lord "who scattered Israel will gather him." The announcement is clear that the exile of God's people was due to nothing other than the Lord's judgment (see also Jeremiah 29:4) and that their salvation is likewise exclusively an act of the Lord. That this act of salvation is declared "in the coastlands afar off" indicates God's reach beyond the confines of Israel. See Psalm 97:1 and Isaiah 24:15 where the coastlands give glory to God, and Isaiah 41:1; 42:4, 10, 12 for the universal praise of God. The salvation of Israel, in other words, bears a message for the whole world and calls the world to respond (see also Isaiah 52:10).
The act of the Lord here is defined as "ransom" and "redeem"; both words are used together also at Isaiah 35:10-11 and often in the writings attributed to Second Isaiah. That prophet, too, addressed exiles with the message of the impending salvation. Both words emphasize the liberty that ensues after the acts, but the word "redeem" points to the special relationship of the Lord to Israel, because a "redeemer" is the closest of kin who pays damages so that the prisoner can go free.
The freedom in this poem is portrayed with beautiful and peaceful images. The people shall come home singing and shine radiant over the Lord's goodness. That goodness will be evident in the harvest as well as among the herds, and their lives will resemble the peace and tranquility of watered gardens. Dancing and merriment will bring men and women, old and young together in a party that bridges the generation gap and the great gender divide.
Our pericope ends appropriately with the reminder that all this blessing is due to the work of the Lord. The divine "I will" introduces the verbs that excite visions of transformation. "I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them," sounds so much like the call of Third Isaiah at Isaiah 61:1-2 and like the emphasis throughout Second Isaiah on the comforting work of the Lord (Isaiah 40:1; 51:3, 12; 52:9 in parallelism with "redeemed"). While on the one hand the comforting work of God is identical to the physical salvation from exile, on the other hand it reverses the impact of mourning on the lives of people. It is perhaps in that dual capacity that Jesus used the promise of comfort in an eschatological sense to describe the transformations that come with the kingdom of God (see Matthew 5:4).
Jeremiah's answer to "What's in it for me?" is a room full of joy and comfort, packaged in wrapping with salvation written all over it.
Ephesians 1:3-14
If Paul wrote this letter to the Ephesians, he certainly changed many of the major theological emphases he announced so clearly in Romans, Galatians, and Corinthians. However, that the author of this epistle bears many marks of Paul's writings and teachings is also clear from the development of some of the key ideas.
Whoever wrote this letter, the purpose seems clear in the material itself: to announce the divine plan, hidden from the world but now revealed to the church, that through the resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ, a new universal community has been formed in which are erased all the separations among people that the world seems to cherish.
Verses 3-14 comprise a hymn that celebrates the revealing of the mystery of God's plan through Jesus Christ. Typical of Jewish hymns, this one begins with the pronouncement of blessing to God and continues with the list of reasons why God should be so blessed and praised. The first reason for blessing God is that God has blessed us "in the heavenly places." This expression, common in Ephesians and unique to Ephesians (see also 1:20; 2:6; 3:10; 6:12), introduces the concept that God's universal plan, known previously only in heavenly places, has now been brought into the human sphere with the coming of Christ. The pericope is thus most appropriate for the Christmas season, especially alongside the hymn of John 1 that announces the Incarnation of the word of God.
Here, however, the emphasis is not on the Incarnation per se but on the gift of "redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses" (v. 7). The word "redemption" in the New Testament epistles and the corresponding word in English "redeem" in our first lesson from Jeremiah have little to do with each other in one sense and everything in another sense. As we discussed above, the verb "redeem" and the noun "redeemer" in the Old Testament describe the action of a next of kin who pays damages so that an accused relative might go free. The word "redemption" in the New Testament derives from the imagery of a slave market and describes the act of buying a slave's freedom. According to some ancient sacred manumission contracts, a slave might buy his own freedom by depositing his meager allowance in the name of a god at the treasury of a sanctuary, for example, Delphi. When the sufficient amount was maintained, the slave would go free, belonging now to the god who had purchased him through the contract.
While the two testaments derive their terms from different backgrounds, the net result is basically the same: freedom from bondage or imprisonment. That freedom is purchased not through the savings of the enslaved but through the blood of Christ, and the freedom is defined not as release from empirical bondage but as forgiveness of the trespasses that constrain us from living the lives God made us to live.
Freed from that constraint, the author's hymn tells his readers, they are now the children God had destined them to be, God's own children. The emphasis on this relationship of Father to children is so emphatic that one would have to think of the possibility of this hymn's origin in baptism. Apart from the destiny to be God's children in verse 5, the note that they were "marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit" in verse 13 leaps out of the baptismal font. The notion that this Holy Spirit has been "promised" recalls such divine pledges as "I will put my spirit within you" (Ezekiel 36:27) and even more profoundly the eschatological expression "I will pour out my spirit on all flesh" (Joel 2:28-29). The latter promise is particularly related to the hymn in Ephesians because it speaks of the gift of the Spirit as leveling the barriers that separate people from one another on the basis of gender, age, and social status. Those are many of the same issues with which the author of Ephesians is concerned, even about which he enthralls. God in Christ has called together a new community, for "in his flesh he has made both camps into one and has broken down the dividing wall" (2:14), "that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two" (v. 15), that is, Jew and Gentile. The promised Holy Spirit with which each baptized Christian is sealed makes one universal family, all God's children.
The hymn does not let Christians off the hook of responsibility. Indeed, the words boldly proclaim why such a universal family should exist: "for the praise of his glory" (vv. 6, 12, 14). The praise of God is our reason for living. It is the role we play as God's adopted children. It is the function of those who are heirs of redemption. And it is not unlike other such hymns. Consider the conclusion to the pre-Pauline hymn at Philippians 2:6-11. The humiliation and exaltation of Christ took place "so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father" (italics mine).
Perhaps this hymn in Ephesians 1:3-14 provides as clear a picture as we can get about why God went to so much trouble to make us all children. It is a message that needs to be heard. In our day when so many claim to wonder about the meaning of their lives and their role in the world, here it is: to live to the praise of God.
That's what is in it for me.
John 1:(1-9) 10-18
The Prologue to John's Gospel has been variously interpreted over the years. The major distinctions in its exegesis have been not in the details but in the proper background against which we are to understand the entire piece.
The Greek word for "word" is, of course, logos, and as a result of that obvious connection the background had been sought traditionally in Greek philosophy. Recent scholarship has focused attention on Hellenistic possibilities, that is, on the mixture of Greek and Semitic ideologies that became common with the advance of Alexander the Great in the last third of the fourth century B.C. Particularly interesting is the possibility of looking at the prologue from the perspective of a Hellenistic hymn about wisdom.
While wisdom in its infancy was basically a matter of teaching youngsters about the ordering of the world and the proper participation in that ordering (what occupies most of the Book of Proverbs and other similar literature in other cultures), wisdom grew up to develop into something more personal, even divine. Even in the Book of Proverbs we have several examples of wisdom's adolescence, for in chapter 8:22-32 Wisdom speaks of itself as the first of the acts of God's creation and of playing alongside the Creator while the universe was formed. In the following chapter Wisdom speaks as a Lady who invites learners to a sumptuous (and free!) meal and to an education that will enable them to live.
From early in the first half of the second century B.C. comes the Book of the Wisdom of Jesus ben Sirach, alias Ecclesiasticus. Throughout this book it is clear that Wisdom and Word, and even Torah, had become so intertwined that the reader has difficulty determining differences among them. The book's familiarity to Jesus and the writers of the New Testament is obvious from such connections as the summary at Matthew 11:25-30, especially verses 28-30, of the words Wisdom speaks at Sirach 51:23-27.
At least as significant is Sirach 24:1-12, which is listed as the alternate first lesson for this Sunday. (It provides a much clearer connection with John 1:1-18 than the passage from Jeremiah 31.) Speaking in the assembly of the Most High, Wisdom tells of her history. She came forth from the mouth of the Most High (thus, like the word) and dwelt in the heavens, though her travels took her into every nook and cranny of the three-storied universe. She simply could not, however, find a community worth moving into, and so the Creator assigned her "the place for my tent" (24:8). That place was "in Jacob," that is, Israel, and in particular Mount Zion in Jerusalem. While the home site was being selected, Wisdom recalls her origin lest we forget: "Before the ages, in the beginning, he created me, and for all the ages I shall not cease to be" (v. 9).
It is indeed possible that the imagery of Wisdom, here in Sirach 24 and in many other places, provided some of the background for what the early church believed and announced about Jesus. In this Prologue, in particular, the notion of the Word "in the beginning," the statement that "all things came into being through him" (compare Proverbs 3:19-20 with Genesis 1), the coming "to his own," and even "the children of God" -- all point to Wisdom backgrounds. In fact, the words that highlight the Incarnation itself, "became flesh and dwelt among us" (v. 14), point us to the "tent" of Sirach 24 because the Greek word for "dwelt" means literally "pitch a tent."
On the other hand, it is possible to interpret verses 9 through 15 on the basis of historical reflections of Israel's past and the coming of Christ. "In the world but not yet known by the world" could refer to the Lord in the period between Adam and Moses. "His coming to his own people but not received by them" is the story of the Sinai law. "The children of God" might be the faithful remnant of which the prophets speak. "The word becoming flesh" is obviously an indication of the Incarnation, and the reference to beholding his glory might point to the Transfiguration.
No matter how we view the background to this Prologue, it does provide with one of the most profound and beautiful descriptions of the meaning of the Incarnation. If we think about the usual sequence and dating of the four gospels (Mark, then Matthew and Luke, and John last), we discover a progression in their announcements about the divinity of Jesus. Because Mark's Gospel opens when Jesus was already an adult, the implication is that Jesus became the Son of God at his baptism (Mark 1:11). Matthew and Luke, however, push the divinity of Jesus back to his conception in Mary's womb through their announcements by an angelic messenger to Joseph and to Mary respectively. John, however, goes all the way back "to the beginning" to announce that the word that became flesh and dwelt among us "was God" (1:1).
Throughout the Prologue appear words that will become themes in John's Gospel. "Life" is John's answer to "the kingdom of God" in the Synoptics and becomes focused particularly in Jesus' discussion with Nicodemus in chapter 3. "Light," originally associated with God the Creator in Genesis 1, becomes one of the titles Jesus claims for himself (8:12). Likewise, "truth" is part of one of the "I am" sayings (14:6) and becomes critical in the discussion of Jesus and Pilate (18:37-38) and in Jesus' conversation with the Judeans in the temple (8:31-32; cf. v. 36).
But what's in it for us? Perhaps the question needs to be raised on this second Sunday after Christmas when the gifts have been relegated to drawers and closets. What do we get out of all this hullabaloo about Jesus' origin and the Incarnation of the Word?
Four gifts stand out in the pericope, probably more if you look behind the sofa. First, we are enlightened by the true light that had come into the world. Much of our lives might be lived in darkness, tripping over familiar furnishings, losing our sense of direction, groping for stability and security. Against the darkness the light shines to guide us, inform us, cheer us, even identify us. Second, we become "children of God," not thanks to any physical act but born of God. That birth is the "new birth" about which Jesus speaks to Nicodemus, and so we receive new identities along with a new Parent. Third, "from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace" (v. 16). Jesus was so full of grace that it spilled over on us, and it truly is "amazing" because it saved the likes of us sinners, found us when we were lost, and gives us sight when life is nothing but a painful blur. And fourth, we have received and continue to receive the knowledge of who God is through the revelation in the Son. While we and the rest of the world look in vain for a knowledge of God in nature or in our own contemplation or in scientific theories about creation, it is the Son "who has made him known" (v. 18).
Such are the gifts God had given us even when all that remains of our Christmas celebration are pine needles sticking in the rug. Among the remaining gifts is not one single bungee cord.
FIRST LESSON FOCUS
By Elizabeth Achtemeier
Jeremiah 31:7-14
Jeremiah 31 is a part of what has been known as the Little Book of Comfort that is made up of chapters 30 and 31 in the Jeremiah corpus, and that announces the Lord's future salvation of the people whom he has sent into Assyrian and Babylonian exiles on account of their sin. The introduction to chapter 31, verse 1, states that the salvation is intended for both the northern and southern kingdoms of Israel, and 31:2-20 are specifically directed to the peoples of the northern kingdom. Thus, we have mention of Samaria (v. 5), Jacob (vv. 7, 11), Ephraim (vv. 6, 9, 18, 20), and Rachel (v. 15), all of the north, which fell to the Assyrians in 721 B.C. It is held by many scholars, therefore, that these are later additions to Jeremiah's ministry that covered the years from 626 to about 584 B.C. It is possible, however, that Jeremiah proclaimed salvation for the northern as well as the southern peoples of Israel.
Chapter 31:2-20 divides itself into three sections: verses 2-6, which are joined to verses 7-9 by the word "For" at the beginning of verse 7; verses 10-14; and verses 15-20. Each section envisions the future salvation of Jacob/Ephraim, their return to their land of Samaria, and then their pilgrimage to worship the Lord in Zion.
These people, states our text, are the first-born adopted son of God (v. 9). That is a familiar thought throughout the Old Testament. At the time of his deliverance of his people out of slavery in Egypt, the Lord not only freed the Israelites, but said they were his family members and adopted them as his son (cf. Hosea 11:1; Exodus 4:22-23; Jeremiah 3:19). Thus his deliverance of them from Egypt was his "redemption" of them, his "buying back" of his family member, as in Jeremiah 31:11.
The apostle Paul draws on that terminology when he writes that we Christians have also been redeemed from our slavery, this time to sin and death, by Jesus Christ. We have been adopted as God's children, he writes, so that we can call God "Abba! Father!" (Galatians 4:4-7). Our story of redemption therefore parallels Israel's, and this is our history. What, then, is the content of the salvation promised to Israel and to us? Several pictures are used in our text.
First, there is the portrayal of the salvation of those who are weak and helpless. Jeremiah states that among the remnant that will be saved are the blind and the lame, the woman with child or in travail (v. 8), and those who are captive to "hands too strong for" them (v. 11). That could be the picture of our captivity too, could it not -- that we are prisoners to our sin, unable to break the bonds of the wrong that wraps itself around our lives and therefore helpless. But God promises Israel that he will free them from those who imprison them in exile, and surely God has freed us from the sin in our life that so imprisons and distorts our living by sending his Son Jesus Christ. None of us here need think our lives are hopeless. None need believe they cannot wipe out the past. God in Jesus Christ delivers us from every power that would bind and hinder our living, from every obstacle that would prevent our reunion with the Father, and we are freed to return to God's presence as his beloved children.
Second, our text portrays the gathering of the redeemed to Zion to praise and to worship God (vv. 6, 8, 12), and that of course is what we do every Sunday, isn't it? We, the redeemed children of the Lord, gather in this place where God is present to "sing aloud with gladness" and to "give praise and say, 'The Lord has saved (us) his people' " (v. 7). Now we have entrance to the presence of the living God. Now we can approach his throne with confidence, because Jesus Christ has died for our sin and opened the way to the Father.
Third, as we gather for worship and then go out from this "Zion" of ours, we can be "radiant over the goodness of the Lord," as redeemed Israel would be radiant (v. 12). For what does the Lord furnish us here in our worship and in our daily activities? Surely, here in his presence, we are given not only God's forgiveness, but also his comfort for our distress and tribulations, his guidance for our decisions, his correction of our wayward ways, his directions through his Word about how to have his life and have it abundantly. Then as we go out, he accompanies us in our daily round, keeping us "as a shepherd keeps his flock" (v. 10), furnishing us with the necessities of our lives (v. 12), so that we are "like a watered garden," says our text (v. 12), tended, cared for, nourished. By the vitality of the Spirit in which God goes with us, we can blossom and bring forth fruit for his purposes. As the Psalmist sings, those who trust in the Lord and follow his ways are "... like a tree planted by streams of water, that yields its fruit in it season, and its leaf does not wither" (Psalm 1:3). For those who worship and live in the Spirit of Jesus Christ and serve him, their lives can be productive and have meaning, because they serve the purposes of God.
Fourth, we should note the characteristics of the picture of salvation given us in our text. What does it entail? Planting crops, enjoying the harvest (v. 5), dancing, having fun at a party (v. 13), basking in the satisfaction given by the goodness of the Lord (v. 14) -- in short, normal, decent, enjoyable everyday life. We often think of salvation as a state of perfection in the future, and so it is in parts of the Bible (cf. 1 Corinthians 13:12). But there is also a foretaste of God's salvation in Jesus Christ given to us now -- the joy and gladness of which our text speaks (v. 13), the comfort, the satisfaction of human life returned to the way God meant it to be in the beginning. A good life, a decent life, a meaningful and productive life -- these are offered to us now by the work of God in his Son our Lord.
God did not give up on the Israelites whom he sent into exile because of their sin against him. And God does not give up on us either. Rather, he sent us his Son, born at Bethlehem, to redeem us and to reclaim us as his beloved children. And through that Son he offers us not only salvation in the future in his eternal kingdom, but he also offers us his goodness now, in days full of satisfaction and of joy. We have only to open our hearts and lives, in trust, to receive his amazing gifts.
