Reflections on the Lectionary for January 2007 Known Beyond the Borders By Rev. Dr. William J. Sappenfield

The congregation that gathers during the season of Epiphany may very well be made up of people who, in the past week, have resented getting computer advice from a technician in the Asian subcontinent, read about a funding debate to build a wall on the nation’s southern border, and appreciated the low price of a jacket that was made in Poland. The preacher will look out at people who are eager to hear the familiar message of Epiphany: God’s all-encompassing love and grace that knows no borders. But those people may need to be reminded that a love that knows no borders has an impact on how Christianity views the world.

Epiphany is a victim of its own success. Early Christians celebrated that outsiders were part of the Kingdom of God (a radical notion at the time). But we’ve gotten used to the old idea of welcoming fresh faces. Indeed, in some locations, church rolls are almost exclusively peopled with newcomers—so the idea of praying with someone whose parents you don’t know has lost its novelty.

The formative debate of the Church, at least in terms of organization, was “Who gets to be a Christian?” Initially, Christianity was almost exclusively a religion of Palestinian Jews who followed Jesus. When non-Palestinian Jews began joining the movement, controversy ensued. The meeting reported in Acts 15 describes the issue.

Paul won the day with his line of reasoning: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” (Gal 3:28) However, as with all relevant theological truths, stating it does not get the job done. It takes a good deal of reminding to shape a truth into belief.

Whether or not one is required to be a Palestinian Jew in order to be a Christian has not been debated at church meetings for some time. That question has been thoroughly settled—but the practice of exclusion lives on. The successful welcome of Gentiles into the Church may have lulled the faithful into a premature declaration of “Mission Accomplished” in the battle against exclusivity.

The Christian Church has not outgrown the problem; we have simply remodeled it to meet our ever-growing notion of who is an outsider. It has long ceased to astonish that “wise people from east of our borders” might even be wise enough to worship Jesus, but “wise people from the east” is a narrow definition of an outsider. Today, we reject people based on their political persuasion, level of education, ethnicity, gender, income, entertainment preferences, and a host of other labels. We use these labels to help determine who is an outsider without having to think about it very much.

The Church still needs to celebrate the gift of diversity.

The message of Epiphany can light our congregations during the dark, short days of January. The preacher has the opportunity to proclaim the ancient themes of this holy season: illumination and universality.

Jeremiah’s was one of many voices that promised a universal faith as a sign of the Messiah: “At that time Jerusalem shall be called the throne of the LORD, and all nations shall gather to it, to the presence of the LORD in Jerusalem.” (Jer 3:17) The coming of the wise men from the east is a sign that the age of the Messiah is at hand. Epiphany fixes hospitality for strangers in the annual discipline of the church year. And, with an ever-growing list of aliens, we have an ever-growing opportunity to be surprised by the gifts they bring to the Christ Child and to his Church.

The Epiphany of Our Lord: January 6, 2007
Isa 60:1–6; Ps 72; Eph 3:1–12; Mt 2:1–12

Matthew was not the first person to envision God calling rich wise men from the East to Jerusalem. In the sixtieth chapter of Isaiah the prophet spoke to the people of Jerusalem who were trying to rebuild the city after two generations of forced exile in Babylon. These grandchildren and great-grandchildren of the old residents had heard the stories of how glorious the old city had been. When they finally came home to a place they had never been before, their expectations were understandably high. Confronted with the remnants of the ancient city and its ruined temple, the people felt that the condition of the holy place mirrored their wrecked aspirations. Isaiah did not tell his contemporaries to put their hopes elsewhere; he told them to re-imagine the rubble that surrounded them. “Arise, shine; for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you.… Nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn.… They shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the LORD.” The messianic promise would not be a reward for turning Jerusalem into a showplace. The nations would respond to the glory of the LORD appearing over the city. Isaiah told the despairing Hebrews that “the abundance of the sea” and “the wealth of the nations” would come to that wasteland because it would be called there by the presence of the LORD.

Over five hundred years later Matthew, with his well-documented love for the classics, repeated Isaiah’s message. The world was bearing extravagant gifts to an unlikely ideal of civilization. Again, the attraction would not be architectural wonders, entertainment venues, or cultural offerings. A star would transcend borders and invite citizens of far countries to come and pay homage.

Arrival in Jerusalem was not the end of the journey for the wise men any more than living in the ruined city of Jerusalem meant a completed journey for the refugees from Babylon. The wise men from the East made the natural assumption that anything important would happen in the biggest dot on the map—Jerusalem. That was the city of the temple and of the king. But star-following is not an exact science, and King Herod’s scholars surprised king and wise men alike with the news that the Messiah was to be born in Bethlehem—nine miles south by a bad road and a good deal farther than that by any measure of sophistication. The announcement must have sounded as improbable as Isaiah’s vision centuries before of the ruins of Jerusalem blossoming into a center of productivity and prosperity. But Matthew, Herod’s scholars, and anybody else who is willing to read scripture and observe the workings of God’s Kingdom knew that Bethlehem was an apt choice. It is an appropriate birthplace for a king who is born to live among people—not to exercise a birthright of being separated from them.

Apparently the wise men had no trouble redirecting their plans. Matthew says they took their rich gifts and high expectations to a small, backwater town. They were ready to enter shabby surroundings and worship a baby with no other credentials than being shined on by a star.
Christianity still shines with a promise of hope for a life with God, and people are still willing to go to extraordinary lengths to find Jesus—and they often still look in the same places that attracted the first wise men. They go to centers of power and make unfounded assumptions about the place of prominent people in the messianic community. The scribes knew where the Messiah would be born; there has never been any secret about the nature of this king or his kingdom. After Matthew tells us that the new sovereign could not be found in Jerusalem, he follows with the story of Jesus’ deference to John the Baptist as a show of “all righteousness.” Next, Jesus instructs Satan himself about the insufficiency of comfort, safety, and political power. After that, Jesus speaks about the blessedness of the poor in spirit, the meek, the pure in heart, and others who usually have a hard time finding work in political capitals. Domination has never been the goal.

The wise men saw the star and went to Jerusalem seeking Jesus. It is exciting when people see the sparkling, inexplicable announcement of truth shining brightly and calling them from far away. But it can set them searching among the trappings of power, the promise of security, and economically measurable happiness.

The preacher on Epiphany has a sermon already written by Herod’s scribes: The infant Messiah will not be found among the powerful. He will be powerful because he can be found among the ordinary. People come seeking an imperious king. Matthew tells us they will take a different road home.

The Baptism of Our Lord: January 7, 2007
Isa 43:1–7; Ps 29; Acts 8:14–17; Lk 3:15–17, 21–22

All four of the Gospels agree that Jesus’ public ministry began with his baptism. This essential event is commemorated in the church calendar on the first Sunday after Epiphany. The theme of the day is beginnings.

The first words from Isaiah signal a fresh start. “But now” presupposes that the hearer knows that the previous chapter has been a rehearsal of Israel’s shortcomings and God’s consequent wrath. Isaiah has just reminded the people that the LORD has “poured upon [Israel] the heat of his anger.” In such a context the words “but now” are a solace in themselves, and the comfort doesn’t stop there. “But now” begins a proclamation of grace and sets a new direction for people who need it.

Isaiah does not promise a future without danger, but he proclaims God’s protection through floods and fire. Indeed, the reference to passing “through the waters” in verse 2 may be a reminder of God’s pivotal act of salvation in the Exodus, but the promise is essentially about the future. “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” In one verse, Isaiah announces God’s all-encompassing promise for his people. He begins with the hallowed preface “Do not fear.” God has used those words from his vision to Abram in Genesis 15:1 to the Son of Man’s statement in Revelation 1:17 that he is the first and the last. Then, in short order, Isaiah promises redemption, identity, and a life with God.

Today’s fashionable promise—a life with God that results in maximized personal potential—would have confused Isaiah and his listeners. That sort of individualism is the very thing God promises to save his people from. He says he will call his people by name, and in verse 7 he is more specific: “everyone who is called by my name” (emphasis added). Redemption, identity, and life with God all happen among God’s people.

Jesus’ baptism is another story of beginnings that comes directly after the pronouncement of God’s wrath. In this case, the wrath was pronounced by John the Baptist who has been talking about burning chaff with unquenchable fire, and it is easy to imagine that everyone is now ready for a new beginning. The actual baptism is not described in Luke as it is in the other Gospels, and the visitation of the Holy Spirit comes afterward, when Jesus is praying. But the identification from heaven is there: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” As in the reading from Isaiah, God identifies his beloved not because of his accomplishments in the past, but for a life-giving relationship in the future.

This event takes place at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. Luke tells us nothing about what Jesus has done up to this point except that he startled the elders in the temple and worried his parents—hardly enough to establish his credentials as the Messiah. Jesus’ ministry and direction are set by the call of his Father. God speaks of his pleasure in identifying Jesus, and again we have a pattern of claiming, identification, and a life with God.

It is a bold claim that every member of the Body of Christ is baptized with nothing short of the same baptism that identified our Lord Jesus. Christians have historically avoided that truth out of sloth disguised as humility. The preacher of these texts can remind listeners that they have been named by God and are called continually to live out their identity as God’s people. Regardless of how they spend their time, they have been claimed by God; whatever they do, they can do it for God’s Kingdom. That is the doctrine of vocation, and it is the exact opposite of its look-alike heretic cousin, works righteousness. Works righteousness leads self-help seminars with the mantra “You are what you do.” Vocation tells the world, “You do what you are.” The preacher can tell his or her listeners that “what you are” is the baptized Body of Christ and that they can look forward to ministry armed with the same grace that baptized Jesus. The words “but now” are a good way to start.

Second Sunday after the Epiphany: January 14, 2007
Isa 62:1–5; Ps 36:5–10; 1 Cor 12:1–11; Jn 2:1–11

In this week’s readings Isaiah tells the returning captives from Babylon what they can become as God’s people, and Jesus produces the first of his signs at a wedding. Both selections offer stories of God bringing spectacular results out of ordinary commitment.
Isaiah’s oracle describes the messianic people who “shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of the LORD.” The themes of Epiphany—light and universality—are apparent as the prophet looks toward a time when Jerusalem’s “vindication shines out like the dawn, and her salvation like a burning torch. The nations shall see your vindication, and all the kings your glory.” These two passages from Isaiah and John are read together because of their common wedding theme.

Isaiah uses marriage as a metaphor for Jerusalem’s restoration. He promises the people they will no longer be called Forsaken or Desolate, “but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her, and your land Married.” Of course, the prophet makes this promise with the assumption that being married is an unambiguous good. That assumption is being increasingly questioned in a society that values independence and individuality. Marriage is sometimes indulged in only as an instrument of self-realization. That was not what Isaiah had in mind. We note that the passage includes the Hebrew names Hepzibah (my delight is in her) and Beulah (married), and it is interesting to see how these names have passed in and out of fashion over the generations.

Marriage is a state of commitment to more than one’s self; it requires an inextricable covenant that transcends self-interest. That is the level of relationship that Isaiah called for. God and his people would be bound to each other, and God planned to rejoice over the binding. (v 8) The timeless words of hope throughout the second part of Isaiah are a description of the messianic people; nowhere is there a mention of messianic individuals. A person can be lost in solitude but can be saved only as a part of God’s family.

The gospel reading from John relates to Isaiah’s message in that the story takes place at a wedding feast. Jesus turns water into wine—good wine, too. While the setting is a celebration, the story nevertheless presents the same theme: the astonishing work of God done in surroundings of ordinary commitment.

This story is peculiar to the Fourth Gospel. John (who numbers them) calls this “the first of his signs” and later tells his readers that he recorded them “so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.” (Jn 20:31)

At first glance, in contrast to most of the gospel stories, this seems to be just a straightforward miracle involving only Jesus and six jars of water. Although his mother points out the depletion of wine, no one asks Jesus to perform a miracle the way a leper asked. No one asks him to refrain from miracle-working the way demons did. Jesus tells no people that their faith has made them well, and neither is he amazed at their unbelief. No one makes decisions, or gets healed, or has his or her life confused. It is just Jesus and the water, and all of a sudden we have a no-strings-attached miracle and the wedding party picks up and everybody is happy.
 

Despite appearances, however, people are involved in this sign. Before she walks out of the story, Jesus’ mother tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” For someone who can list The Magnificat among her credits, Mary’s words to the servants seem unremarkable, but they have tremendous implications. Without giving reasons, or setting limits, or promising results, Mary calls for commitment to Jesus’ authority. Jesus’ instructions do not stretch the capabilities of the servants—they require a lot of work but are by no means out of the question. The event that has thrilled millions of Christians over the centuries begins with servants shrugging and walking back and forth between the well and the water jars for no apparent reason except that Jesus has told them to do it. This miracle rides into the Kingdom of God on the shoulders of obedient servants.

Ordinary surroundings are the places that need miracles. The people of God are familiar, and we are called to serve them in ordinary ways. The community is made up of those who are lonely, worried, misdirected, angry, and proud. Their problems are very common—as common as water. The message of these scriptures proclaims what Jesus can do with something as common as water when his servants are willing to do what he asks with it.
Mary’s instruction, “Do whatever he tells you,” blesses every common situation with the promise of a miracle.

Third Sunday after the Epiphany: January 21, 2007
Neh 8:1–3, 5–6, 8–10; Ps 19; 1 Cor 12:12–31a; Lk 4:14–21

Both Nehemiah and Luke tell stories of crowds gathered to hear a reading of scripture. The scenes are separated by over four hundred years, but God’s word has an immediacy that demands a response from his people whenever they listen.

After the Babylonian Captivity the Hebrews were allowed to return to their shattered Jerusalem. According to this section of history, Nehemiah served as governor while the inhabitants rebuilt the fortification wall around the city. When the project was completed “all the people gathered together into the square” and Ezra was instructed to bring “the book of the law of Moses.” The public reading continued from early morning to midday. The content of the reading is not described although the writer is careful to point out that interpretation was offered so that the people understood it. What the people heard is a mystery, but their response is not. They wept. The text does not say if the tears were from repentance, or grief that God’s law had been absent from Jerusalem for so long, or frustration over a task so far from completion. Whatever the reason, Nehemiah called for a different response. “Do not mourn or weep.” A day when God’s law is heard is a holy day, a day to be celebrated. Nehemiah told the people to have a feast and to make sure the poor were included. The wall the people had completed was only a token of the strength generated by the joy of the LORD.

In the lesson from Luke, Jesus also reads scripture to a gathering of people. Here the content of the reading is given; indeed, that is the point of the story. This incident is placed immediately after the story of Jesus’ temptation. Luke offers a synopsis of Jesus’ return to Galilee with a brief description of his being filled with the power of the Spirit, his teaching activity, and his growing reputation. Then we have the first recorded words of Jesus since his argument with the devil. After some initial approval, the crowd in the synagogue turns out to be only marginally more receptive.

Jesus is given the scroll of Isaiah and reads a job description of ministry to a who’s who of the chronically dejected: the poor, the captives, the blind, and the oppressed. These words had promised salvation centuries before, and apparently everyone is eager to hear Jesus’ exposition of them. (“The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him.”) The proclamation was a marvel of brevity. “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” The sermon is shorter than the scripture reading, but it says everything of importance that has been said in any Christian sermon ever since. The Kingdom of God is no longer a matter of speculation; it is how we are to live today.

The list of people who need God’s love was old when Isaiah wrote it. It had not gotten any younger when Jesus read it, and it still has not changed. The preacher has the opportunity to proclaim that his or her hearers do not have to wait for God to do something that will make this troubled world into his Kingdom. They can recognize what he has already done and respond. Jesus fulfilled the scriptures by bringing God into the world. He still lives in the world through the generosity, justice, wisdom, and courage of his people.

Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany: January 28, 2006
Jer 1:4–10; Ps 71:1–6; 1 Cor 13:1–13; Lk 4:21–30

This Sunday’s readings feature two great champions for God’s universal love at the beginning of their ministries. Ironically, both anticipate objections from very religious people. Jeremiah says he will be considered too young to be taken seriously; Jesus says he will be considered too familiar. Neither is silenced.

The reading from Jeremiah stands in the tradition of God overcoming the objections of a reluctant prophet. (Moses and Isaiah are other prominent examples.) Before he begins his oracles of justice, Jeremiah establishes his credentials as one who is called by God. He recalls the words of the LORD that Jeremiah would be “a prophet to the nations.” Again, this reverberates with the Epiphany theme of universality. Jeremiah protests that he is “only a boy.” The Hebrew word is not specific. It is used to describe baby Moses floating in the reeds and Absalom who was old enough to lead a revolt against his father. In any event, it is not a good enough argument for God, who has a reputation for intolerance of the blasphemy of fear. God points out that his omnipotence will more than compensate for his prophet’s shortcomings. In a passage similar to Isaiah 6:7, in which a seraph touches Isaiah’s lips with a burning coal, the LORD touches Jeremiah’s mouth with his hand. In Isaiah, it appears to be a gesture of purification. Here in Jeremiah it is an empowerment. “Now I have put my words in your mouth.”

God’s words will call his people to return to the covenant he established with them.
In Luke, the first verse overlaps the last verse of the previous week. Jesus’ one-sentence sermon is repeated, but now we read about the controversy that ensues. The residents of Nazareth are reluctant to be impressed by the neighbor boy. Luke tells us in the previous chapter that Jesus was about thirty years old, but maturity is no match for familiarity. The townspeople busy themselves with variations of “Just who do you think you are?” Jesus responds with a reminder that when both Elijah and Elisha, two notable heroes of the faith, took their holiness on the road, God did not hesitate to showcase his power among the Gentiles. The results are predictable. A too-well-known speaker saying things that are both offensive and true is a volatile combination. The Nazarenes try to throw Jesus off a cliff.

If Jesus was too familiar to get a hearing after living in Nazareth for thirty years, how will a congregation respond to him on a Sunday morning two thousand years into his ministry? The preacher of God’s justice and all-encompassing love has a far more challenging task than coming up with some new, innovative message. The preacher has to deal in well-known, unchanging truth. He or she has to tell people that the same astonishing, overwhelming love that created the universe is interested in the lives, homes, and relationships these people have assumed were theirs by virtue of long-standing habitation.

As always, God will not listen to objections from reluctant preachers. The startling old message that justice will prevail over comfort, grace is stronger than rejection, and mission is more valuable than security has outlasted the protests of God’s people in every generation.