Luke 4:14-21
By the time the events in this morning’s gospel take place, Jesus has been baptized in the river Jordan by John, and although we don’t hear the story until Lent, he has spent forty days in the wilderness being tempted by the devil.
The text says that a report about Jesus had spread and we can guess that it was favorable because he was welcomed into the synagogues to teach and he was praised.
In this text, Luke presents Jesus as a Torah-abiding Jew whose custom was to go to the synagogue on the Sabbath, and gives us the first recorded sermon we have from Jesus. He is in the synagogue where as a boy he would have heard the rabbis teach, and where he would have learned the word of God for himself.
When children in my congregation prepare for their first Holy Communion, one of the things we do together is to walk up into the chancel, a space that is set apart from the rest of our sanctuary and appears to hold mystery for them. I invite them to climb the steps into the pulpit and walk behind the altar table, to help them see that while there is mystery there, it is in the unexplainable and unmerited gift of grace that we receive from God and not in the very human beings who they see in those spaces during worship.
I can imagine that, even though Jesus had taught other places, when he entered into that place, the same place where his own faith had been formed and nurtured, he would have felt some of that same awe as he stood up to read.
Scholars tell us that the order of the service in the synagogue likely would have begun with a reading of the Shema and prayers, and then a reading from the Torah – the first five books of our Old Testament – and then this reading, from the Prophets, and then there would be a time of discussion and teaching before the service concluded. Jesus would have been handed the scroll of Isiah and then had freedom to choose what he read.
Like any preacher, he probably wondered whether people needed to hear words of hope like we heard during Advent when the prophet promised that a little child will lead God’s exiled people in Isaiah 11. Or whether they needed words of comfort like those in Isaiah 40 when the prophet offered consolation to the people of Judah.
When Jesus opens his mouth to read, he chooses these verses from chapters 58 and 61. They are both words of challenge and words of promise.
Proclaiming the year of the Lord’s favor, Jesus invokes the idea from Leviticus 25 of a restorative practice of Jubilee that recognized the ways that, over time, the world gets out of order and corruption outweighs justice. While we don’t know the extent to which jubilee was practiced, the idea was that every fifty years, families would be reunited, property would be returned to its original owners and slaves and their children would be freed. It was a divine image of reconciliation for God’s people.
When Jesus finishes reading, he sits down to teach, and says, “Today, this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
Today!
Just as the angel said to the shepherds tending their flocks,
“Today, your savior is born.”[i];
just as Jesus tells the tax collector Zacchaeus when he visits him,
“Today, salvation has come to your household.”[ii];
and just as he tells the criminal being crucified beside him,
“Today you will be with me in paradise.”[iii]
Today God is here. God’s promises aren’t for some vague and distant future. God is here with us now in our lifetimes and God’s kingdom here on earth is realized in our hearing.
That’s why we can hear Jesus’ words as words of promise, but, of course, they are also words of challenge, because we have acknowledge that we live in a world where there are captives to release; there are ways that we are blind and need to have our eyes opened, and there are oppressed people yearning for freedom.
Paul’s words to the church in Corinth echo the ones Jesus spoke. Paul writes in his letter, “If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member rejoices, all rejoice together with it. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”[iv]
Paul’s letters are always in response to something that he knows is happening in the local church, and in this letter he admonishes the church that we rise and fall together. There cannot be an “us” and a “them” in the body of Christ. So, when Jesus speaks of the captive, the blind and the oppressed, we must not hear that as though he’s speaking about people who aren’t in our lives.
Truly I tell you, we don’t have to look very far to find people who are suffering in the ways that Jesus names:
There are full-time minimum wage workers who cannot afford basic shelter, food and clothing because the minimum wage is not a living wage.
There is the blindness we can suffer when our experiences and education shape our worldview one way, and we cannot see the truth of another person’s perspective.
And, there is in every one of us, the oppression and brokenness of sin that turns us in on ourselves and away from God.
When see how we are broken, we join with the psalmist, crying out to God, “How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?[v]
And it is in that moment that God’s words of promise returns to us in Jesus’ proclamation: You do not have to wait any longer. Today I am here.
The way verse 21 is written in Greek, another way to hear it is, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled and is continuing to be fulfilled in your hearing.”
In this sermon Jesus teaches us that, having received God’s grace, we are set free to practice our faith in our words and actions, to participate in God’s kingdom here and now.
The fulfillment of God’s favor or grace on the world can be seen all around us if we will open our eyes and our hearts. It is seen in that one person who provides transportation to someone who cannot drive themselves any longer or when you call the person who usually sits in the pew in front of you but you haven’t seen recently; it is seen in the volunteers who make children’s church and vacation bible school possible, helping shape the faith of our children; it is seen when we reach out into our community and recognize and respond to the needs of those around us; and it is seen in the work by our denominations.
But we must not limit or restrict the fulfillment of God’s grace in the world to the expressions of the church that we have in the Methodist Church or the Lutheran Church, because the Body of Christ is not whole until we come together with all of our Christian brothers and sisters. The fulfillment of God’s grace is seen in our joint witness and commitment – the kind of unity that our congregations are lifting up in this morning’s pulpit exchange – a partnership in the world, for the sake of the world.
Let us pray…
Liberating God,
We give you thanks for your Son Jesus and the gift of salvation he gives us here and now.
Release us from captivity, restore our sight and set us free from the oppression of sin;
By your Holy Spirit, make us witnesses to your love and mercy, celebrating the uniqueness of gifts you give to each of us.
We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior,
Amen.
[i] Luke 2:11
[ii] Luke 19:9
[iii] Luke 23:43
[iv] 1 Corinthians 12:26-27
[v] Psalm 13:1
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Sunday, January 20, 2019
Second Sunday after Epiphany
John 2:1-11
I feel like I should be using a stage whisper to read this gospel. The scene we have in John’s gospel feels like it takes place backstage, behind the scenes or at least downstairs if it had happened in the days of Victorian England. Certainly, only a handful of people even know what has taken place. The rest of the wedding guests, the bride and even the bridegroom and his closest friends never suspect anything unusual has occurred.
We’ve probably all attended at least one wedding; the most intimate one I remember is my mother’s wedding to my stepfather, with family gathered around, while the most grand would be one of the royal weddings broadcast around the world. Our memories and experiences shape how we hear the biblical story and provide a starting place for understanding what was happening, but paying attention to the local context is important, too. Jewish wedding customs in the first century would have included a procession from the bride’s house to the groom’s, and a wedding feast that could have lasted seven days.[i] It would have been raucous, and the entire village would have been invited. And it is in the midst of that boisterous cacophony of music and voices joined in celebration and conversation that John records a side conversation between Jesus and his mother, his instructions to the servants, and the steward’s conversation with the bridegroom that follows.
It’s easy to dismiss Mary as a busybody when she tells Jesus, “They have no wine.” Especially when we hear his unsympathetic reply, “What concern is that to you or me?”
But the story doesn’t end with his refusal to get involved.
I’ve wondered if, like in his encounter with the Syrophoenician woman who asked for her daughter to be healed, Jesus was persuaded by his mother’s pleading, but it’s more likely that John includes their exchange to emphasize the sovereignty or authority of God in Jesus. For the Evangelist John, Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promise of the Messiah.
When the story continues we hear his instructions to the servants and watch as the chief steward, the person put in charge of all the details of the festivities, tastes the drawn cup and then addresses the bridegroom. It is only then that we hear about the very good wine that has come from the jars that had held water.
Throughout Scripture, “the joys of a feast are gift from God” and wine often is a symbol of joy, given in abundance by God. [ii] Spiritual joy is not simply happiness though ; it is a fruit of the Spirit of God made evident in a disciple’s life.
There’s a story about Saint Francis where he tells his brotherd at the monastery about the nature of true joy. Francis describes returning to the friary on a bitterly cold winter night, the kind of night where icicles had formed on the muddy hem of his habit and cut at his legs. Francis approaches the gate and knocks for a long time. One of his brothers eventually comes to the door and angrily demands that he identify himself. Francis gives his name and begs for entrance for the love of Christ. But the gatekeeper refuses him admission, curses him and then begins to beat Francis around the head and shoulders. Francis says to the brother hearing the story for the first time, “I tell you that if I kept patience and was not upset- that is true joy and true virtue and the salvation of the soul.”[iii]
David Rensberger writes about this story in his article “True and Perfect Joy” saying Francis’ joy arises from remaining intent on Christ through pain and difficulty and betrayal.”[iv]
Joy is found in the vision of Jesus’ perfect love for each of us.
When you substitute the word “joy” for wine in the gospel, the meaning of Mary’s words changes. She’s no longer preoccupied with avoiding the scandal of a poorly prepared feast or intruding where she doesn’t belong. She has seen the poverty of joy all around her and she knows Jesus can intercede.
The purification jars become what one preacher called “vessels of transformation” as Jesus provides an overflowing abundance of joy to the wedding guests. Some of them won’t ever notice that Jesus was even there or know that he changed their circumstances. Others will be skeptical, even after having seen his miracle and question what happened and why. But John tells us that at least the disciples believed in him.
But, what would have happened if Mary had stayed silent?
What if she had just watched quietly from the back of the room while the wine ran out and the celebration faded as people grew more and more unsettled?
Haven’t we faced circumstances when we’d rather stay silent?
When we don’t want to trouble the waters or rock the boat?
The wedding at Cana reminds us that we, too, know Jesus is the Messiah, and we know the sovereignty of God — that God is God, and we are not.
We know what we cannot do — we cannot turn water into wine or perform miracles.
But we can and must speak up and name the places where we see God at work in our midst;
we must name the sin that infects our own lives and confess our self-centeredness and selfishness;
we must name the brokenness that fragments our community and ask God to intervene.
With the psalmist whose words from Psalm 51we sing at the offertory, we can call out,
“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.[v]
With God’s Spirit renewing us and strengthening us, we disciples, like the ones who accompanied Jesus in Cana, are called to witness to the abundant joy that God supplies.
Let us pray…
Loving God,
Thank you for the gift of Your Son who comes into our lives unexpectedly and often unnoticed;
You grant us the joy of salvation and ask us not to be silent about the abundant life we have in Your grace.
Give us courage to speak up so that others can share in the abundance you give us all.
We pray in the name of Jesus,
Amen.
[i] Raymond Brown. The Gospel According to John I-XII. Yale: Anchor Press. 97-98.
[ii] Gail Ramshaw. Treasures Old and New: Images in the Lectionary. Kindle Edition. 183.
[iii] Lisa Cressman Backstory Preaching. 95.
[iv] As quoted by Lisa Cressman, 96.
[v] Psalm 51:10-12 (NRS)
I feel like I should be using a stage whisper to read this gospel. The scene we have in John’s gospel feels like it takes place backstage, behind the scenes or at least downstairs if it had happened in the days of Victorian England. Certainly, only a handful of people even know what has taken place. The rest of the wedding guests, the bride and even the bridegroom and his closest friends never suspect anything unusual has occurred.
We’ve probably all attended at least one wedding; the most intimate one I remember is my mother’s wedding to my stepfather, with family gathered around, while the most grand would be one of the royal weddings broadcast around the world. Our memories and experiences shape how we hear the biblical story and provide a starting place for understanding what was happening, but paying attention to the local context is important, too. Jewish wedding customs in the first century would have included a procession from the bride’s house to the groom’s, and a wedding feast that could have lasted seven days.[i] It would have been raucous, and the entire village would have been invited. And it is in the midst of that boisterous cacophony of music and voices joined in celebration and conversation that John records a side conversation between Jesus and his mother, his instructions to the servants, and the steward’s conversation with the bridegroom that follows.
It’s easy to dismiss Mary as a busybody when she tells Jesus, “They have no wine.” Especially when we hear his unsympathetic reply, “What concern is that to you or me?”
But the story doesn’t end with his refusal to get involved.
I’ve wondered if, like in his encounter with the Syrophoenician woman who asked for her daughter to be healed, Jesus was persuaded by his mother’s pleading, but it’s more likely that John includes their exchange to emphasize the sovereignty or authority of God in Jesus. For the Evangelist John, Jesus is the fulfillment of God’s promise of the Messiah.
When the story continues we hear his instructions to the servants and watch as the chief steward, the person put in charge of all the details of the festivities, tastes the drawn cup and then addresses the bridegroom. It is only then that we hear about the very good wine that has come from the jars that had held water.
Throughout Scripture, “the joys of a feast are gift from God” and wine often is a symbol of joy, given in abundance by God. [ii] Spiritual joy is not simply happiness though ; it is a fruit of the Spirit of God made evident in a disciple’s life.
There’s a story about Saint Francis where he tells his brotherd at the monastery about the nature of true joy. Francis describes returning to the friary on a bitterly cold winter night, the kind of night where icicles had formed on the muddy hem of his habit and cut at his legs. Francis approaches the gate and knocks for a long time. One of his brothers eventually comes to the door and angrily demands that he identify himself. Francis gives his name and begs for entrance for the love of Christ. But the gatekeeper refuses him admission, curses him and then begins to beat Francis around the head and shoulders. Francis says to the brother hearing the story for the first time, “I tell you that if I kept patience and was not upset- that is true joy and true virtue and the salvation of the soul.”[iii]
David Rensberger writes about this story in his article “True and Perfect Joy” saying Francis’ joy arises from remaining intent on Christ through pain and difficulty and betrayal.”[iv]
Joy is found in the vision of Jesus’ perfect love for each of us.
When you substitute the word “joy” for wine in the gospel, the meaning of Mary’s words changes. She’s no longer preoccupied with avoiding the scandal of a poorly prepared feast or intruding where she doesn’t belong. She has seen the poverty of joy all around her and she knows Jesus can intercede.
The purification jars become what one preacher called “vessels of transformation” as Jesus provides an overflowing abundance of joy to the wedding guests. Some of them won’t ever notice that Jesus was even there or know that he changed their circumstances. Others will be skeptical, even after having seen his miracle and question what happened and why. But John tells us that at least the disciples believed in him.
But, what would have happened if Mary had stayed silent?
What if she had just watched quietly from the back of the room while the wine ran out and the celebration faded as people grew more and more unsettled?
Haven’t we faced circumstances when we’d rather stay silent?
When we don’t want to trouble the waters or rock the boat?
The wedding at Cana reminds us that we, too, know Jesus is the Messiah, and we know the sovereignty of God — that God is God, and we are not.
We know what we cannot do — we cannot turn water into wine or perform miracles.
But we can and must speak up and name the places where we see God at work in our midst;
we must name the sin that infects our own lives and confess our self-centeredness and selfishness;
we must name the brokenness that fragments our community and ask God to intervene.
With the psalmist whose words from Psalm 51we sing at the offertory, we can call out,
“Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, and do not take your holy spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and sustain in me a willing spirit.[v]
With God’s Spirit renewing us and strengthening us, we disciples, like the ones who accompanied Jesus in Cana, are called to witness to the abundant joy that God supplies.
Let us pray…
Loving God,
Thank you for the gift of Your Son who comes into our lives unexpectedly and often unnoticed;
You grant us the joy of salvation and ask us not to be silent about the abundant life we have in Your grace.
Give us courage to speak up so that others can share in the abundance you give us all.
We pray in the name of Jesus,
Amen.
[i] Raymond Brown. The Gospel According to John I-XII. Yale: Anchor Press. 97-98.
[ii] Gail Ramshaw. Treasures Old and New: Images in the Lectionary. Kindle Edition. 183.
[iii] Lisa Cressman Backstory Preaching. 95.
[iv] As quoted by Lisa Cressman, 96.
[v] Psalm 51:10-12 (NRS)
Sunday, January 13, 2019
Baptism of our Lord
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
Do you remember your baptism? Some of you were christened or baptized as infants and maybe you know your godparents or have photographs from the day, but you probably don’t remember the event. Others of you grew up in traditions where you were baptized as an older child or teenager, and maybe you remember the baptismal pool or the river where you were baptized, or the water dripping into your eyes afterward. One family I know celebrates their children’s baptismal days like birthdays, not with gifts, but with joyful celebration, as they remember God’s life-giving promise that we receive at baptism: forgiven of our sin, we are made new and, united with Christ, we are given new life.
Whenever we read Scripture, our own experiences shape our understanding of what is taking place in the story, so it is important to ask questions to expand that understanding. As lay theologian and Christian educator Verna Dozier writes in her book The Dream of God, “Faith never says, “This is how it was,” but “This is how we saw it.” She writes, “Faith always includes the possibility I could at any given moment be wrong,…that what I understand today may be revealed to be
wanting tomorrow.”[i]
As we listen to the familiar story of the baptism of Jesus, I want to challenge us to listen for the parts of the story that are different from what we think we know or practice and ask what questions are revealed.
One of the first things I noticed was that Jesus was in a crowd of people who were being baptized. In the verses just before this, Luke tells us that the tax collectors and soldiers were among those who had come to be baptized, so there were people there who would have been scorned by the Jewish leaders. There were probably people there who had never been “religious.” There were probably children noisily splashing in the water and clusters of people gossiping. It was a crowd of people, after all, just like all of us who gather here on a Sunday morning — imperfect and sinful, but loved by God.
Jesus’ baptism teaches us that we too are baptized into a community of people who are witnesses of God’s love.
One question I have heard asked is, “Why was Jesus baptized at all?” While in some Christian traditions baptism is an outward sign of our obedience to Christ as Lord of our lives, our Lutheran understanding is that baptism is the outward sign of God’s promised forgiveness of our sin. Jesus didn’t need to either proclaim his obedience to God or be forgiven for sin, but in baptism, he could participate in corporate atonement that repented for the collective sins of the world — for injustice and oppression, exploitation and violence.
Jesus’ baptism teaches us that we are not only responsible for ourselves, but we bear responsibility for our neighbor.
Another question is what does it mean when Luke says Jesus is separating the wheat from the chaff? The phrase “burn with unquenchable fire” inspires images of the chaff – the “discontented, lazy rabble” among us — being exiled to a fiery hell.[ii] But I don’t think that’s what Jesus is describing here; I believe Luke gives us a description of the purifying or sanctifying work that the Holy Spirit, often described as fire or wind in Scripture, completes in each of us. It is the same work Luther describes in his Small Catechism, when he writes,
“I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.”[iii]
Here Jesus teaches us that baptism and the work that follows it are God’s work in us; it is not work we can do alone.
I don’t know anything about farming, but apparently, after the wheat farmers separated the wheat berries from their stalks, they would toss the berries vigorously enough that they would rise in the air and fall again and the force of the wind or air moving against them would help separate the chaff or husks. This winnowing is an exhausting hands-on task. [iv]
Loved by God, baptized in the water and united with Christ in life, I believe we are called:
to examine ourselves and our ways of being in the world as God’s people;
to question what keeps us from witnessing to God’s love and mercy; and
to ask what we need to release as chaff for Jesus to burn.
God is not threatening us but inviting us to participate in this winnowing with confidence that we will not find anything that God does not already know about us and that God loves us unconditionally.
Let us pray…
Holy God,
Thank you for the gift of baptism that fulfills your promise of forgiveness and new life, united with Your Son and named as Your children here on earth;
Continue the good work that you have begun in each of us, that we might be sanctified by Your Holy Spirit
And bear witness to your loving mercy in our words and in our love for our neighbor.
We pray in Jesus’ name,
Amen.
[i] Verna Dozier. The Dream of God, 147.
[ii] Capra, Frank, and James Stewart. 1946. It's a wonderful life. [Los Angeles, CA]: [Liberty Films].
[iii] Luther’s Small Catechism
[iv] https://news.yale.edu/2017/10/23/hands-lesson-separating-wheat-chaff#&gid=1&pid=1, accessed 1/12/2019
Do you remember your baptism? Some of you were christened or baptized as infants and maybe you know your godparents or have photographs from the day, but you probably don’t remember the event. Others of you grew up in traditions where you were baptized as an older child or teenager, and maybe you remember the baptismal pool or the river where you were baptized, or the water dripping into your eyes afterward. One family I know celebrates their children’s baptismal days like birthdays, not with gifts, but with joyful celebration, as they remember God’s life-giving promise that we receive at baptism: forgiven of our sin, we are made new and, united with Christ, we are given new life.
Whenever we read Scripture, our own experiences shape our understanding of what is taking place in the story, so it is important to ask questions to expand that understanding. As lay theologian and Christian educator Verna Dozier writes in her book The Dream of God, “Faith never says, “This is how it was,” but “This is how we saw it.” She writes, “Faith always includes the possibility I could at any given moment be wrong,…that what I understand today may be revealed to be
wanting tomorrow.”[i]
As we listen to the familiar story of the baptism of Jesus, I want to challenge us to listen for the parts of the story that are different from what we think we know or practice and ask what questions are revealed.
One of the first things I noticed was that Jesus was in a crowd of people who were being baptized. In the verses just before this, Luke tells us that the tax collectors and soldiers were among those who had come to be baptized, so there were people there who would have been scorned by the Jewish leaders. There were probably people there who had never been “religious.” There were probably children noisily splashing in the water and clusters of people gossiping. It was a crowd of people, after all, just like all of us who gather here on a Sunday morning — imperfect and sinful, but loved by God.
Jesus’ baptism teaches us that we too are baptized into a community of people who are witnesses of God’s love.
One question I have heard asked is, “Why was Jesus baptized at all?” While in some Christian traditions baptism is an outward sign of our obedience to Christ as Lord of our lives, our Lutheran understanding is that baptism is the outward sign of God’s promised forgiveness of our sin. Jesus didn’t need to either proclaim his obedience to God or be forgiven for sin, but in baptism, he could participate in corporate atonement that repented for the collective sins of the world — for injustice and oppression, exploitation and violence.
Jesus’ baptism teaches us that we are not only responsible for ourselves, but we bear responsibility for our neighbor.
Another question is what does it mean when Luke says Jesus is separating the wheat from the chaff? The phrase “burn with unquenchable fire” inspires images of the chaff – the “discontented, lazy rabble” among us — being exiled to a fiery hell.[ii] But I don’t think that’s what Jesus is describing here; I believe Luke gives us a description of the purifying or sanctifying work that the Holy Spirit, often described as fire or wind in Scripture, completes in each of us. It is the same work Luther describes in his Small Catechism, when he writes,
“I believe that I cannot by my own reason or strength believe in Jesus Christ, my Lord, or come to Him; but the Holy Spirit has called me by the Gospel, enlightened me with His gifts, sanctified and kept me in the true faith.”[iii]
Here Jesus teaches us that baptism and the work that follows it are God’s work in us; it is not work we can do alone.
I don’t know anything about farming, but apparently, after the wheat farmers separated the wheat berries from their stalks, they would toss the berries vigorously enough that they would rise in the air and fall again and the force of the wind or air moving against them would help separate the chaff or husks. This winnowing is an exhausting hands-on task. [iv]
Loved by God, baptized in the water and united with Christ in life, I believe we are called:
to examine ourselves and our ways of being in the world as God’s people;
to question what keeps us from witnessing to God’s love and mercy; and
to ask what we need to release as chaff for Jesus to burn.
God is not threatening us but inviting us to participate in this winnowing with confidence that we will not find anything that God does not already know about us and that God loves us unconditionally.
Let us pray…
Holy God,
Thank you for the gift of baptism that fulfills your promise of forgiveness and new life, united with Your Son and named as Your children here on earth;
Continue the good work that you have begun in each of us, that we might be sanctified by Your Holy Spirit
And bear witness to your loving mercy in our words and in our love for our neighbor.
We pray in Jesus’ name,
Amen.
[i] Verna Dozier. The Dream of God, 147.
[ii] Capra, Frank, and James Stewart. 1946. It's a wonderful life. [Los Angeles, CA]: [Liberty Films].
[iii] Luther’s Small Catechism
[iv] https://news.yale.edu/2017/10/23/hands-lesson-separating-wheat-chaff#&gid=1&pid=1, accessed 1/12/2019
Sunday, January 6, 2019
Epiphany of the Lord
Matthew 2:1-12
Isaiah 60:1-6
Twelve days after our celebration of the birth of Jesus on Christmas morning, the world has certainly moved on. While the glitter and bling of New Year’s Eve festivities drew our attention from a lowly manger to the sky where fireworks exploded and confetti rained down, we oriented ourselves to look ahead to what is coming and what will be.
But hearing Matthew’s gospel account of the magi traveling to honor the infant Jesus, we are invited to pause and allow ourselves again to be filled with wonder and joy at the presence of our Lord and Savior, in the flesh. In Jesus, God comes to all the people of the world as our Redeemer, and at Epiphany, we celebrate that the light Jesus brings into the world is neither dim nor narrow, leaving swaths of people in darkness, but it is bright and shining, illuminating our lives and beckoning us to participate in God’s kingdom.
Like the exilic people of Judah whom the prophet Isaiah was addressing, we too are called to arise, shine, lift up our eyes and look around.
The Isaiah text we heard is from the third book of Isaiah, the portion most likely written after the people had already returned to Judah from their exile in Babylon. A whole generation had passed since people had lived in Judah and their return was not easy. This section of the book was written to help the people recall what God’s promises are and remember what it means to live as God’s people, even when there are problems or despair.
The prophet’s first command is, “Arise!”
Maybe you hear echoes of the prophets telling us in Advent to get ready, stay alert and prepare. Faith is active and participatory, and at Epiphany we are invited to find our places in the procession to see our King.
The next command is, “Shine!”
Each of us is created and gifted uniquely to take part in God’s kingdom on earth. Later in Matthew’s gospel, when Jesus is addressing the crowds during the sermon on the mount, he describes the light that we each carry and warns his followers not to hide it. This command to “Shine!” is to look at the light we carry — the gifts we bear — and share them with the world.
Our Lutheran understanding of faith is that God’s grace is freely given and received; it is not earned, and nothing we do or don’t do separates us from God’s love. Therefore, any response we make to God is in gratitude for what God has first given us.
Today as we install our congregation council, we gratefully recognize the gifts that each person gives to God and to the Church as leaders in our congregation, but each one of you here has gifts that are uniquely yours and can be shared.
The final command Isaiah gives is, “Lift up your eyes and look around.” Sin can be defined as being curved inward, focusing on ourselves; others may call it navel-gazing. At the prophet’s insistence, we must raise our eyes up to take our eyes off ourselves, and see not only the people around us but also see how God is already active and dispelling the darkness:
to rejoice at the goodness that we witness when God’s people unite instead of divide;
to celebrate the reconciliation and reunion of families separated by war or conflict;
to delight in the ways God’s love is being made known through local and global ministries that are making a difference.
As followers of Jesus, we are compelled to extend God’s love to others, and to respond to our neighbors’ suffering and need. So, when we look around with our eyes open, we must not ignore the tremendous need the world has and the needs that still exist right here in our community: for caring adults in the lives of children; for basic clothing and hygiene, safe shelter and access to nutritious food; for protection from violence and abuse; and for compassionate care for older adults who are living with chronic or terminal illness.
As the Church we are invited to be God’s presence, God’s hands and feet, on earth, so, Dear Church, arise, shine, lift up your eyes and look around, and may we shine forth the light of Christ in all we do and say.
Let us pray…
Redeeming God,
Thank you for the gift of your Son Jesus, the light of the world whose birth we continue to celebrate.
By your grace, you make each one of us a sharer in the promised light that we may bring light to those in thick darkness, hope to those no one cares for and act as a voice to those no one speaks for.
By your Spirit empower us to live as Your people, remembering your promises and participating in your kingdom.
We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
Isaiah 60:1-6
Twelve days after our celebration of the birth of Jesus on Christmas morning, the world has certainly moved on. While the glitter and bling of New Year’s Eve festivities drew our attention from a lowly manger to the sky where fireworks exploded and confetti rained down, we oriented ourselves to look ahead to what is coming and what will be.
But hearing Matthew’s gospel account of the magi traveling to honor the infant Jesus, we are invited to pause and allow ourselves again to be filled with wonder and joy at the presence of our Lord and Savior, in the flesh. In Jesus, God comes to all the people of the world as our Redeemer, and at Epiphany, we celebrate that the light Jesus brings into the world is neither dim nor narrow, leaving swaths of people in darkness, but it is bright and shining, illuminating our lives and beckoning us to participate in God’s kingdom.
Like the exilic people of Judah whom the prophet Isaiah was addressing, we too are called to arise, shine, lift up our eyes and look around.
The Isaiah text we heard is from the third book of Isaiah, the portion most likely written after the people had already returned to Judah from their exile in Babylon. A whole generation had passed since people had lived in Judah and their return was not easy. This section of the book was written to help the people recall what God’s promises are and remember what it means to live as God’s people, even when there are problems or despair.
The prophet’s first command is, “Arise!”
Maybe you hear echoes of the prophets telling us in Advent to get ready, stay alert and prepare. Faith is active and participatory, and at Epiphany we are invited to find our places in the procession to see our King.
The next command is, “Shine!”
Each of us is created and gifted uniquely to take part in God’s kingdom on earth. Later in Matthew’s gospel, when Jesus is addressing the crowds during the sermon on the mount, he describes the light that we each carry and warns his followers not to hide it. This command to “Shine!” is to look at the light we carry — the gifts we bear — and share them with the world.
Our Lutheran understanding of faith is that God’s grace is freely given and received; it is not earned, and nothing we do or don’t do separates us from God’s love. Therefore, any response we make to God is in gratitude for what God has first given us.
Today as we install our congregation council, we gratefully recognize the gifts that each person gives to God and to the Church as leaders in our congregation, but each one of you here has gifts that are uniquely yours and can be shared.
The final command Isaiah gives is, “Lift up your eyes and look around.” Sin can be defined as being curved inward, focusing on ourselves; others may call it navel-gazing. At the prophet’s insistence, we must raise our eyes up to take our eyes off ourselves, and see not only the people around us but also see how God is already active and dispelling the darkness:
to rejoice at the goodness that we witness when God’s people unite instead of divide;
to celebrate the reconciliation and reunion of families separated by war or conflict;
to delight in the ways God’s love is being made known through local and global ministries that are making a difference.
As followers of Jesus, we are compelled to extend God’s love to others, and to respond to our neighbors’ suffering and need. So, when we look around with our eyes open, we must not ignore the tremendous need the world has and the needs that still exist right here in our community: for caring adults in the lives of children; for basic clothing and hygiene, safe shelter and access to nutritious food; for protection from violence and abuse; and for compassionate care for older adults who are living with chronic or terminal illness.
As the Church we are invited to be God’s presence, God’s hands and feet, on earth, so, Dear Church, arise, shine, lift up your eyes and look around, and may we shine forth the light of Christ in all we do and say.
Let us pray…
Redeeming God,
Thank you for the gift of your Son Jesus, the light of the world whose birth we continue to celebrate.
By your grace, you make each one of us a sharer in the promised light that we may bring light to those in thick darkness, hope to those no one cares for and act as a voice to those no one speaks for.
By your Spirit empower us to live as Your people, remembering your promises and participating in your kingdom.
We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
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