Sermon Seeds: Second Sunday after Christmas Year B
Second Sunday after Christmas Year B
Jeremiah 31:7-14 or Sirach 24:1-12
Psalm 147:12-20 or Wisdom of Solomon 10:15-21
John 1: (1-9) 10-18
Or the readings for Epiphany may be used:
Isaiah 60:1-6 with Psalm 72: 1-7, 10-14
John 1: (1-9) 10-18
Additional reflection on Matthew 2:1-12 for Epiphany
God’s Unifying Impulse
by Kathryn Matthews (Huey)
We’ve just come through a long season of celebration, of parties in our homes and offices, in gathering places out in a world festively adorned with twinkling lights and illuminated Santas and, underneath, its own sound track of much-loved music: this has been a time for many families and friends to gather for fun and warmth and good cheer. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…but by now the thought of one more celebration might finding us looking instead for a little peace and quiet. And yet here we are, “celebrating the feast” of the Epiphany, a word we rarely use anymore, unless we’re talking about a sudden realization or insight that we’ve had, usually about ourselves, that is, and not so much about anything spiritual. And we find ourselves in a world that seems even more troubled than usual, with so much tragedy, so much unrest, so much violence and fear, and, it seems, so little that we can do about it all. So we may be too worn out, too overwhelmed to contemplate, let alone celebrate, the immense majesty and profound joy of John’s prologue to his Gospel.
Perhaps we understand the religious meaning of “epiphany” only as a way to talk about three wise men coming to see the baby Jesus. Why would we highlight this text from John, then, instead of the much more accessible, more “human” story of those travelers from afar (with one more Christmas carol all of their own)? However, there is a whole season of Epiphany, and many ways to speak about Jesus being made known, or shown, in the world. John’s elegant poem, or hymn, is one of those epiphany (“manifestation”) texts that show us who Jesus is. What better way to start another year of our lives than to begin at the beginning of all things, at the moment where John begins his story of Jesus?
Begin at the beginning
While each Gospel writer has his own way of “beginning at the beginning,” John is unique, according to Gail O’Day and Susan Hylen, because, unlike the other writers, he feels too constrained by “human” time: “For John, the story of Jesus cannot be contained inside the normal human calculations of time or even space. John’s opening words move readers outside of their own time frame and the created universe. They place readers instead in the presence of God that transcends both time and space” (John, Westminster Bible Companion).
And so, John begins his story long before human history begins, at the very dawn of creation. In this “overture” to his Gospel, he lays out the very themes he will develop later on. The transcendent beauty of John’s Prologue may seem too lofty for preaching – in The Lectionary Commentary: The Gospels, Richard Burridge reminds us that John’s symbol is the soaring eagle – but that is, after all, the point of this text: that the transcendent, beyond-words God took on flesh, came to us, found us, sought us out, took on our own existence, with its pains, its sorrows, its vulnerability and its joys. Stephen Bauman says it especially well: “God,” he writes, “is embedded with us in the human predicament” (Feasting on the Word Year C, Vol. 1). In fact, scholars love to say that the Word “pitched a tent” in our midst, a down-to-earth image for such a hard-to-grasp concept. In any case, Fred Craddock eloquently sums up “the bottom line” of what John is saying here about God and that human predicament: “Whatever else John 1:14 means, it does state without question the depth, the intensity, and the pursuit of God’s love for the world” (Preaching through the Christian Year C). What difference would it make if we thought of ourselves, the whole world, as “pursued” by God’s love?
God’s overflowing grace
Jesus Christ shows us who God is, and we have received from his fullness, “grace upon grace.” This phrase sets a tone for this new year, as it lays a foundation for a theology of abundance, an almost-daring thing to speak of in times like ours of growing economic hardship for many. However, a theology of abundance is a beginning-of-all-things perspective that focuses on God, while our economic dislocation says much more about us and the way we’ve managed the abundance God has blessed us with. As people of faith, we take a long view, back to “the beginning,” when God showered us with an overflowing abundance of grace and a good and beautiful creation. Watch how often such generosity appears in Eugene Peterson’s translation of this passage: “generous inside and out, true from start to finish….We all live off his generous bounty, gift after gift after gift. We got the basics from Moses, and then this exuberant giving and receiving” (The Message). Gift after gift after gift! Or, as Charles Cousar puts it, “To behold God is to be a recipient of wave after wave of the divine generosity (grace) and to experience God’s faithfulness to the ancient promises (truth)” (Texts for Preaching Year A).
Yes, as another year begins, we’re still struggling on our way out of deep economic troubles, and the gap between the rich and poor grows wider as more wealth moves upward to a small percentage of the population, and too many of us are still out of work or underemployed or feeling insecure in our jobs. It may be secular heresy to see abundance, to see fullness even in a time like this. However, if we can claim that there is more than enough of everything our spirits need most – forgiveness and reconciliation, grace, life, truth, joy, generosity, healing, justice – perhaps we can also believe that there is more than enough of what our bodies need to live on: food, water, land, clothing, and shelter. Beverly Gaventa reminds us that we’re not the only ones blessed by the light of God, for “all people, whether they believe it or not, live in a world illuminated by the light just as they live in a world created by the Word.” Gaventa then challenges us to live our lives “discovering the divine benevolence and reliability” (Texts for Preaching Year C). Might this even be a first step on the path to world peace, if we truly believe there is not just more than enough light for all, but more than enough of everything we need, if we just learn to share?
Seeking the heart of God
A phrase in this passage, “close to the Father’s heart,” tries to describe the relationship between the first and second Persons of the Trinity. However, the translation in the NRSV might be improved, according to The New Proclamation Commentary on the Gospels: “‘with God’ (v.1) is really ‘towards God,’ and ‘close to the Father’s heart’ (v. 18) is really ‘into the bosom/embrace of the Father,’ both expressing a vibrant and active exchange.” Barbara Brown Taylor reflects beautifully on the word “‘bosom,’ an image that evokes the maternal as well as the paternal body of God. While no one has seen God, Jesus apparently knows where to lay his head….this Son knows how to listen to the heartbeat of his Father” (Feasting on the Word Year C, Vol. 1).
John speaks of “the Word” that was present at creation, a mighty God, above our imaginings or description, and yet this Word came into the world as a baby, small and vulnerable and sweet. It’s hard to relate to a transcendent God, but we can relate to a baby, a mother, and, strangely enough, the shepherds who came to give homage (even though most of us have never been shepherds). The Word, then, isn’t an intellectualized, conceptual God but an enfleshed, living, breathing God who shared our sorrows and joys, our suffering and struggles and hope. As Stephen Bauman puts it, “There is no darkness, even unto death, in which God is not intimately acquainted and engaged, present and powerful, loving and true” (Feasting on the Word Year C, Vol. 1). Perhaps this paradox explains why singing Christmas carols helps us in our humble attempts to express the inexpressible – we cannot put into words the incredible mystery of God-made-flesh, and yet we have known it in our bones. We have felt God with us even when we could never explain how that could be.
Feeling as well as knowing
Such knowledge, however, is not just “head” knowledge but an embodied experience that moves us to encounter one another, and God’s creation, differently. Jesus was not a drastic reversal or turn on God’s part, away from God’s original plan. John Dominic Crossan writes, “The Logos, or Word, means God’s inaugural vision for the world at the dawn of creation. It is not as if God came up with a new idea or a new program at the time of Christ. The divine vision of freedom and justice, of nonviolence and peace, and of an earth in which all have a fair and equitable share was there from creation itself” (God and Empire). We hope that this perspective, of God’s grand vision from the very beginning of more than enough for all, might prepare us to address the problems of scarcity and injustice that seem to hold sway over our hearts and minds during these difficult economic times. (Indeed, even if our economy continues its slow improvement, there is the larger issue of economic injustice around the world.)
Richard Burridge finds lovely meaning in this reading as it “affirms the world’s goodness and the Word’s involvement in creation” and “inspires the great Christian involvement in both the arts and the sciences.” He observes that “[s]cientific inquiry is possible if the world is not some malicious fantasy but the result of a creator’s love–to study the laws of physics is to search out the mind of God,” and “rather than trying to escape the material body, our humanity can be explored in sculpture and paint, poetry and prose, dance and drama, music and song–because ‘in him was life’ (1:4)” (The Lectionary Commentary: The Gospels). Burridge’s words remind me of a quote from Albert Einstein: “I want to know God’s thoughts–the rest are mere details.” Other writers focus on a greater appreciation for human nature itself; Dianne Bergant says, “It was good enough for God to embrace, and so we should highly revere it.” Even more, she writes, we should “look with new eyes at those others with whom we share that same human nature, all those whom we might have considered ‘most unlikely’ bearers of divine mystery” (The Word for Every Season Year A).
God is in charge of it all
In her sermon, “Waiting in the Dark,” Barbara Brown Taylor reflects on what it feels like to wait for some all-important thing, as John the Baptist did: before Jesus arrived, “John’s life was one long Advent, a waiting in the dark for the light, a waiting without knowing for the one thing that would change everything.” Many of us are waiting for a messenger who will tell us that the tide has turned, that the day of vindication and hope has arrived, that God is still with us. Some of us have secretly, privately, in the deepest places of our hearts, given up hope. Or, worse, we may assume that it’s all up to us, or that we can somehow make everything right, all by our own efforts, without a God who has chosen to be right here, right in the midst of everything that we face. As we wait, Taylor writes, we can live in hope and trust: “We may be short on details,” she writes, “but we are not short on hope or wonder at this mystery whose good hands we are in” (Gospel Medicine).
Our text does more than remind us of what God did, long ago; rather, it proclaims that God is active in the world today, in this setting of history. We might feel tired and relieved that Christmas is over, but it would be better to feel energized and renewed by the good news of the gift of Jesus Christ every day, not just on one morning, or season, each year. After all, Richard Swanson observes, “Christmas takes a while to celebrate. The Incarnation takes a long time to think about” (Provoking the Gospel of John). In her Feasting on the Word Year C, Vol. 1 commentary, Barbara Brown Taylor develops the theme of bringing a word to life, a word that each one of us “has a gift for bringing to life,” whether that word is compassion, justice, generosity, patience, or love. “Until someone acts upon these words,” she observes, “they remain abstract concepts–very good ideas that few people have ever seen. The moment someone acts on them, the words become flesh. They live among us, so we can see their glory.” Taylor makes the same observation about congregations, who “embody words as well.”
Testifying to the Light
God’s grace has brought us light, has brought us truth, has brought us home. According to Dianne Bergant, our readings today suggest that we ask God, “Where do you live?” (The Word in Every Season Year A). Would it be obvious to the surrounding community that God lives in the midst of your congregation? Mary Lin Hudson’s pastoral reflection on this text considers the way the Word is embodied in the life that we share together, “in the extraordinary care that opens a home to a broken body in need. The Word is embodied in the extravagant feeding of people who can no longer cook warm meals for themselves. The Word becomes flesh when it embraces with love the stranger who has come home” (New Proclamation Year A 2011). How is the Word embodied in your midst? We might wonder today how our churches would be transformed if all of our members thought of themselves as witnesses who testify to the Light, as John did. And then we might dream of how the world around us would be transformed as well.
God’s incredible gift of Jesus is one we can never repay, but there is a response we can give: the praise and thanks that we lift in prayer and song, especially in community. As you pray Psalm 147, is it just words on a page, or do the words come alive when you think of the joys of homecoming, of God’s mighty and tender deeds, of the Light that has come into the world, the world in which you have known both darkness and light, both exile and coming home? “God grants peace within your borders,” the psalmist sings, “God fills you with the finest of wheat”: there it is, that fullness again – can you feel the fullness of God’s goodness in your life? What difference has the Light shining on your life made in the life of the world?
For further reflection:
Thomas Merton, 20th century
“I have the immense joy of being a member of a race in which God became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now I realize what we all are….There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around shining like the sun. It was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts where neither sin nor desire nor self-knowledge can reach, the core of their reality, the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed.”
Anne Lamott, 21st century
“The thing about light is that it really isn’t yours; it’s what you gather and shine back. And it gets more power from reflectiveness; if you sit still and take it in, it fills your cup, and then you can give it off yourself.”
Mother Teresa, 20th century
“Words which do not give the light of Christ increase the darkness.”
Helen Keller, 20th century
“Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light.”
Madeleine L’Engle, 20th century
“There is in God, some say, a deep but dazzling darkness.”
Augustine of Hippo, 5th century
“You have made us for yourself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”
Additional reflection on Matthew 2:1-12 for Epiphany
It was “the time of King Herod,” not a good and happy time, but one of oppression, suffering, and injustice. Herod was a brutal and fearful man, insecure because he was just a puppet of the hated Roman Empire, not a real king. Can you imagine how thrilled this pretend king was on that day when a little band of “wise men” from the East showed up at his palace and asked for directions to the real King of the Jews? These wise men were astrologers, priests, scholars – we’re not sure exactly what they were or even how many of them came, but we know that they were, in any case, seekers on a mission, and very serious about it. They had dropped everything they were doing, left their country and the comforts of home to set out on a long, hard journey, guided by a spectacular natural phenomenon, a bright star that led them most of the way to this newborn king. William R. Herzog II, however, says the star “was not necessarily an extraordinary celestial event, but an ordinary star seen through the extraordinary eyes of the magi” (New Proclamation Year C 2006-7). In any case, they needed help to reach their final destination, so they innocently, and naively, turned to this lesser king, an evil one at that, for directions to the real one.
Strangers from places we fear
These strangers are much more, of course, than mere decoration for our nativity scene. John Pilch draws our attention to the “plain history, real politics, and human effort” at “the heart” of this story. These travelers from the East represent long-standing resistance to Western (at that time, Roman) imperialism, Pilch says, and they’ve come a long way to “submit” to Jesus, the new king of the Judeans. In doing so, they’re poking their finger in the eye of Rome and its puppets, and the vision they embody reaches far beyond Israel to embrace the entire known world of ancient times. It’s not insignificant to us today that these Magi were “very high ranking political-religious advisors to the rulers” of empires in areas that today we know as Iran and Iraq (The Cultural World of Jesus Year A).
Thus, Pilch and the biblical story give us pause at the beginning of a new year, as we hear about visitors from the very places we seem to fear most in the world right now. Perhaps we would get a better sense of the reaction of Matthew’s earliest audience to this text about “Magi” from the East if we imagined a visit to our local church by religious or political leaders from that same part of the world (or, for that matter, from North Korea, Syria or Pakistan). And imagine that these visitors “break many of the rules” that we have, rules that help us define who we are as a community. These “magicians,” then, represent all sorts of problems for Matthew’s audience.
These strangers come from “the East” – the same direction from which most of Israel’s conquerors approached, including Assyria, Babylon, and Persia. Richard Swanson adds other powerful associations with the East: “East of Judea is the Tigris and the Euphrates…the Garden of Eden…Ur of the Chaldees…Babylon, where Jews lived in Exile after the destruction of the first Temple. East of Judea is the Jewish community who stayed behind when Jews returned to rebuild the Temple and Jerusalem….” These “wise men,” then, Swanson says, were among the Gentiles who might have been influenced by the Jews who remained behind in Babylon; perhaps the Magi had been tutored by those Jews in sensing the goodness of the One True God, and “had been trained to raise their eyes to the horizon of God’s activity in the world” (Provoking the Gospel of Matthew). It might be helpful to read this last paragraph again, after reading this week’s text from Isaiah, about lifting up our eyes and looking around, and about the wealth of the nations coming to Israel.
Who’s the real king here?
How did these strangers find their way to the new King of the Jews? They’re “sincere and persistent” in their search, Charles Cousar says, and, actually, not entirely “wise,” despite their experience and worldliness: “Almost naïve, they seem to anticipate no difficulty in inquiring of Herod the king about the birth of a rival king” (Texts for Preaching Year C). So they “naively” follow the star, guided by God through a sign of nature. God would also provide direction through a dream (just as Joseph was guided by a dream), but it’s no accident that they’re also helped by scripture, when they ask for directions from Herod and hear from the religious authorities who know just the right place to look for the answer.
And so, are we really surprised that Herod, already sensing that he’s the “power-that-was” instead of the “powers that be,” reacts in fear to the news about the birth of a baby bringing good news for the world? For Herod, this good news is bad news, and he turns to the chief priests and scribes, the religious establishment, the power elite, to help him figure out where to find this dangerous little baby. So they all meet, Thomas G. Long says, and do a major “bible study,” and find an answer in the words of the prophet Micah (5:2) and in 2 Samuel (5:2), pointing to Bethlehem, the hometown of David, the shepherd king, as the birthplace of the Messiah who would be the greatest shepherd of all (Matthew, Westminster Bible Companion). In other words, those at the center read about what God is doing on the margins (see Herzog).
Herod survives, even thrives, on brutality and fear. Now he turns to secrecy and deception, too, calling the strangers in behind closed doors and craftily pretending to be on the same page with them. He tells them what they need to know, and then makes a request. “Go and search diligently for the child,” he says, “and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” How very helpful of him: all the right things are coming out of his mouth, but we know the story of what’s coming, after the wise men make their way to Bethlehem, find the child, are overwhelmed with joy, offer their gifts – fit for a real king – and pay him homage, and then, after being warned in a dream, return home by a different road.
The old, old story of violence
We know what’s coming because we’ve heard the story many times, of what Herod (brute power) will do with this kind of information. We’ve heard this story of the murder of the innocents, all the little boys in the town of Bethlehem under the age of two, the story that tells us so graphically just what lives in the heart of Herod, what fear and insecurity, arrogance and a greed for power can do. It is particularly haunting this year, like last year, that image of the slaughter of the innocents, as we preach in the wake of another mass killing of school children in their classrooms.
There are many ways that we “find our way” to God, to the little baby born King of Kings: nature does indeed point to the glory of God, to God’s care and presence, but we need the Bible, too, and personal experience, and the community that helps us understand all those gifts. Then, like the Magi, we’re drawn to worship the One we seek. Thomas Long says that “the world is full of ‘stars in the East’ – events in nature, personal experience, and history that point toward the mystery of God…” but we the Bible helps us to “recognize these holy moments for what they are…to see God’s face clearly in them.” Without scripture, we would be like the wise men, trying to figure out the deeper meaning of what they had experienced, and then what to do about it. Just being a biblical scholar isn’t enough, either: the chief priests and the scribes missed the meaning of the text, and Herod turns to scripture to use it for his own panicked purposes: Long observes, “One can, like Herod, be in favor of studying the scripture and still be on the wrong side of God’s will” (Matthew, Westminster Bible Companion). (That thought should give us pause.) Joni S. Sancken reminds us of the most important way that followers of Jesus experience God: in the person of Jesus Christ himself, who shows us who and how God is (New Proclamation Year C 2013). Isn’t this the point of the Incarnation and the Christmas/Epiphany season that celebrates it?
The journey of the Magi was long and perilous; even their return trip started on a warning, but they were driven by their sense of an event so important and so powerful that it drew them far from their home and called forth their generosity and their humble worship. While we may find the roots of Christmas gift-giving in the story of St. Nicholas, Joni S. Sancken suggests that they really lie here, in the story of three strangers bringing extravagant gifts to a little baby in a land far from their own, and in “Jesus himself, a gift from God” (New Proclamation Year C 2013). In that age, we’d expect anyone who could afford to bring gold, frankincense and myrrh to be wealthy enough not to be in the habit of bowing down to little children in modest homes, in foreign lands. Once they reached their destination, they were “overwhelmed by joy,” and then, what drew them far from home sent them back again.
Matthew wants his audience to hear about the Good News of God’s universal and all-encompassing grace, even if they’re offended or even appalled that such “objectionable” people are included in the story and, even more, are included in the circle of God’s grace. (That audience includes us today, of course; we have our own outsiders whose presence in the circle of God’s grace might offend us.) Scott Hoezee agrees that this story is about the “reach of grace. Matthew is giving a Gospel sneak preview: the Christ child who attracted these odd Magi to his cradle will later have the same magnetic effect on Samaritan adulterers, immoral prostitutes, greasy tax collectors on the take, despised Roman soldiers, and ostracized lepers” (The Lectionary Commentary: The Gospels). Matthew writes his Gospel in light of the Jewish texts familiar to his audience, and he recalls those texts from the prophet Isaiah that described “the wealth of the nations” (read, Gentiles) coming to “you,” bringing “gold and frankincense,” and proclaiming the praise of the Lord.
Finding ourselves in the story
Matthew, then, placed this little story in the larger story so that the early Jewish Christians could find and understand Jesus and themselves within the long, long story of God’s work of saving and healing this world, the story of Israel and the promises of God which were, so the Bible tells us, for the nations, too, for all the people of the world. The whole story held together for them, it made sense, and they located themselves within it.
Don’t we want to find ourselves in the story, too, to hear what happened so long ago, and to feel our own lives connected to all of that, to be part of something so much greater than ourselves? We want to feel ourselves, strangers from a distant land and far-off time, kneeling with the wise ones from the East, in awe and joy for the gift before us. And we want to know and see and feel how God is still at work in this world we live in now, to hear how God is still speaking to us, today, as God spoke through the prophets, through dreams and angels and a bright, shining star, so long ago.
The wise and the restless
It’s deeply moving to hear of three foreigners traveling a long, hard way because they had an inkling – just an inkling – of something very important unfolding in a distant land. Something inside them must have been restless, or upset, or hungry for understanding; despite the reputation of “the East” as the place of wisdom and learning, there was still something missing, something they still needed to find. And what did they find but “an economically limited toddler, in modest surroundings, lying in a teen mother’s arms,” writes Shelley D.B. Copeland. “To the intellectually perceptive, this scene was not a scholar’s formula for future success. Yet, by grace, the magi had the faith to experience unbridled joy” (Feasting on the Word Year B, Vol. 1).
So, what do we hear in this story? We hear that God has sent a gentle shepherd who will nevertheless upset the powers-that-have-been. We hear that the smallest things, like a newborn baby, can terrify the arrogant, and bring them down in the end. We learn that God’s reach of grace goes far beyond every obstacle within or without, and pushes us beyond them, too. We learn that a great light has dawned, a light that draws all people and calls us to live our lives illuminated by its truth. That’s what the Epiphany season is about: we hear the beautiful words, the promises in the text from Isaiah, about a light breaking forth for all of us who know what it feels like to “sit in darkness,” and we hear the call to arise and become radiant with the light of God. Do we in the church shine with God’s love for all?
We are seeking, too
When were times that you felt you were seeking God in your life? Was it only at times of need or suffering, or was it an intellectual search, or did it come from a deep, personal hunger for meaning? How faithful were you, and diligent, in the search? How do you think people seek God today? What are the paths and things and methods that help people “find” their way to God? How might the star in the Matthew reading represent nature as it “points” to God? The wise men find the star alone insufficient as a guide, and they innocently turn to one king (a lesser, and evil one) for guidance to the real King. Fear is the response, not just from the powerful, threatened king, the “power-that-has-been,” but from the religious establishment, and from the entire town (“all Jerusalem”). According to Joni Sancken, this little story shows “the best and the worst of human nature spring forth in response to God’s gift of revelation,” and she reminds us that just as a new baby brings upheaval to a house, “the birth of God incarnate promises to turn the whole world upside down and forge a new reality” (New Proclamation Year C 2013). No wonder some people trembled in fear! Think of the times that fear dictated your first response to something new, even to something promising. What did you, and those around you, fear?
Scripture is the guide that is ultimately helpful to the seekers, even when provided by fearful and questionable religious authorities. When has scripture, read in community and with study, provided guidance to you in your spiritual search, especially when other means have fallen short?
Connections between the readings
The reading from Matthew interacts with the reading from Psalm 72 and its prayer (its “vision”) for the new king, and Herod comes out looking rather bad in the comparison as he contrasts sharply with this vision. In what ways does Jesus fulfill the vision of one who rules in righteousness and peace? What do these readings, especially the psalm, have to say to those in power in our public life today, especially as we struggle to gain an equilibrium of cooperation and common ground while seeking the best of the whole community? In what ways do our rulers live up to this vision, and in what ways and times do they respond in fear to the new and the promising?
The Isaiah 60 reading speaks of light and glory, and rising up from wherever we have been pressed or pushed down, rising up to behold the glory that comes to us. It is the light of God that breaks through the thick darkness, but it will appear over us. When have we failed to look up and see the glory of God over us? Broken-down Jerusalem sees everything turned upside down (right side up!), with the wealth of other nations brought to it for the glory of God, not for its own glory. But this procession includes not only the world beyond its borders but the very sons and daughters who were once in exile. Again, the theme of homecoming, but a homecoming that includes the presence, and the gifts, of the strangers, the foreigners, the nations. Whether Isaiah speaks of the exile or Matthew speaks of the wise men bringing gifts, we see and hear the great invitation that would go out, in the end, to “all nations,” making them (and us) disciples, too, and bringing them home.
So, who are the foreigners, nations, strangers, who are left out of our vision of the great homecoming? Do we recognize ourselves in their midst, or have we always experienced ourselves as insiders? In all the celebrations of Christmas and the season of Epiphany, a time of the manifestation of God’s glory in a little child, have you been “overwhelmed with joy” at any time? How do we observe these seasons every year, year after year, and still find that place within us that is capable of being overwhelmed by joy? How is God still speaking to us, year after year, in every season, calling us to this joy, this remembering, this new vision?
For further reflection:
Mary Anne Radmacher, 21st century
“As we work to create light for others, we naturally light our own way.”
Vernon McLellan, 20th century
“When it comes to giving, some people stop at nothing.”
Marilynne Robinson, Gilead, 21st century
“Grace has a grand laughter in it.”
M. Scott Peck, 20th century
“The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers.”
“Lemony Snicket” (Daniel Handler), 21st century
“There are times to stay put, and what you want will come to you, and there are times to go out into the world and find such a thing for yourself.”
Christopher Moore, Lamb, 21st century
“We were seekers. You are that which is sought, Joshua. You are the source. The end is divinity, in the beginning is the word. You are the word.”
Jeremiah 31: 7-14
For thus says the Lord: Sing aloud with gladness for Jacob, and raise shouts for the chief of the nations; proclaim, give praise, and say, “Save, O Lord, your people, the remnant of Israel.” See, I am going to bring them from the land of the north, and gather them from the farthest parts of the earth, among them the blind and the lame, those with child and those in labor, together; a great company, they shall return here. With weeping they shall come, and with consolations I will lead them back, I will let them walk by brooks of water, in a straight path in which they shall not stumble; for I have become a father to Israel, and Ephraim is my firstborn.
Hear the word of the Lord, O nations, and declare it in the coastlands far away; say, “He who scattered Israel will gather him, and will keep him as a shepherd a flock.” For the Lord has ransomed Jacob, and has redeemed him from hands too strong for him. They shall come and sing aloud on the height of Zion, and they shall be radiant over the goodness of the Lord, over the grain, the wine, and the oil, and over the young of the flock and the herd; their life shall become like a watered garden, and they shall never languish again. Then shall the young women rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old shall be merry. I will turn their mourning into joy, I will comfort them, and give them gladness for sorrow. I will give the priests their fill of fatness, and my people shall be satisfied with my bounty, says the Lord.
Wisdom praises herself,
and tells of her glory in the midst of her people.
In the assembly of the Most High she opens her mouth,
and in the presence of his hosts she tells of her glory:
“I came forth from the mouth of the Most High,
and covered the earth like a mist.
I dwelt in the highest heavens,
and my throne was in a pillar of cloud.
Alone I compassed the vault of heaven
and traversed the depths of the abyss.
Over waves of the sea, over all the earth,
and over every people and nation I have held sway.
Among all these I sought a resting-place;
in whose territory should I abide?
“Then the Creator of all things gave me a command,
and my Creator chose the place for my tent.
He said, ‘Make your dwelling in Jacob,
and in Israel receive your inheritance.’
Before the ages, in the beginning, he created me,
and for all the ages I shall not cease to be.
In the holy tent I ministered before him,
and so I was established in Zion.
Thus in the beloved city he gave me a resting-place,
and in Jerusalem was my domain.
I took root in an honored people,
in the portion of the Lord, his heritage.”
Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem!
Praise your God, O Zion!
For God strengthens the bars of your gates;
God blesses your children within you.
God grants peace within your borders;
God fills you with the finest of wheat.
God sends out a command to the earth;
God’s word runs swiftly.
God gives snow like wool;
God scatters frost like ashes.
God hurls down hail like crumbs—
who can stand before God’s cold?
God sends out a word, and melts them;
God makes a wind blow, and the waters flow.
God declares the word to Jacob,
and declares God’s statutes and ordinances to Israel.
God has not dealt thus with any other nation;
they do not know God’s ordinances.
Praise be to God!
Wisdom of Solomon 10:15-21
A holy people and blameless race
wisdom delivered from a nation of oppressors.
She entered the soul of a servant of the Lord,
and withstood dread kings with wonders and signs.
She gave to holy people the reward of their labors;
she guided them along a marvelous way,
and became a shelter to them by day,
and a starry flame through the night.
She brought them over the Red Sea,
and led them through deep waters;
but she drowned their enemies,
and cast them up from the depths of the sea.
Therefore the righteous plundered the ungodly;
they sang hymns, O Lord, to your holy name,
and praised with one accord your defending hand;
for wisdom opened the mouths of those who were mute,
and made the tongues of infants speak clearly.
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, just as he chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance, having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory.
John 1:(1-9), 10-18
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.
(John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.'”) From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.
Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.
For darkness shall cover the earth,
and thick darkness the peoples;
but the Lord will arise upon you,
and his glory will appear over you.
Nations shall come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.
Lift up your eyes and look around;
they all gather together, they come to you;
your sons shall come from far away,
and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses’ arms.
Then you shall see and be radiant;
your heart shall thrill and rejoice,
because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you,
the wealth of the nations shall come to you.
A multitude of camels shall cover you,
the young camels of Midian and Ephah;
all those from Sheba shall come.
They shall bring gold and frankincense,
and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.
Psalm 72: 1-7, 10-14
Give the ruler your justice, O God,
and your righteousness to a ruler’s heir.
May the ruler judge your people with righteousness,
and your poor with justice.
May the mountains yield prosperity for the people,
and the hills, in righteousness.
May the ruler defend the cause of the poor of the people,
give deliverance to the needy,
and crush the oppressor.
May the ruler live while the sun endures,
and as long as the moon, throughout all generations.
May the ruler be like rain that falls on the mown grass,
like showers that water the earth.
In the ruler’s days may righteousness flourish
and peace abound, until the moon is no more.
May the monarchs of Tarshish and of the isles
render the ruler tribute,
may the monarchs of Sheba and Seba bring gifts.
May all monarchs fall down before the ruler,
all nations give the ruler service.
For the ruler delivers the needy when they call,
the poor and those who have no helper.
The ruler has pity on the weak and the needy,
and saves the lives of the needy.
From oppression and violence the ruler redeems their life;
and precious is their blood in the ruler’s sight.
This is the reason that I Paul am a prisoner for Christ Jesus for the sake of you Gentiles— for surely you have already heard of the commission of God’s grace that was given to me for you, and how the mystery was made known to me by revelation, as I wrote above in a few words, a reading of which will enable you to perceive my understanding of the mystery of Christ. In former generations this mystery was not made known to humankind, as it has now been revealed to his holy apostles and prophets by the Spirit: that is, the Gentiles have become fellow-heirs, members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the gospel.
Of this gospel I have become a servant according to the gift of God’s grace that was given to me by the working of his power. Although I am the very least of all the saints, this grace was given to me to bring to the Gentiles the news of the boundless riches of Christ, and to make everyone see what is the plan of the mystery hidden for ages in God who created all things; so that through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly places. This was in accordance with the eternal purpose that he has carried out in Christ Jesus our Lord, in whom we have access to God in boldness and confidence through faith in him.
In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him, “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet:
‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah,
are by no means least among the rulers of Judah;
for from you shall come a ruler
who is to shepherd my people Israel.'”
Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying, “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure-chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road.
Liturgical Notes on the Readings
In ecumenical liturgical practice, there are normally three readings and one psalm at each Sunday service, in this order:
First Reading: Hebrew Scripture
Response: Psalm (or Canticle) from the Bible
Second Reading: Epistle (or Acts or Revelation)
Third Reading: Gospel
The first two lessons are normally read by laypeople, the Gospel by a Minister of the Word or a layperson. In Roman Catholic, Anglican and liturgical Protestant churches, it is uncommon for an ordained minister to read all of the lessons.
The psalm is not a reading but a congregational response following the lesson from Hebrew Scripture: it is normally sung with a refrain or recited by the congregation as poetry. Occasionally, a canticle is appointed in place of a psalm; it is sung or recited in the same way. The New Century Hymnal provides a complete liturgical psalter with refrains and music.
A hymn may be sung as an introduction to the proclamation of the Gospel.
Notes on the Lectionary and Liturgical Colors
Advent and Christmas
The Violet color for Advent is traditionally connected with royalty and penitence. Blue is symbolic of expectation and hope, not only for the birth of Christ, but also for Christ’s return at the end of history. Rose on the third Sunday of Advent, which was Gaudete (Joy), provided a little relief from the somberness of Advent in earlier times. Some Advent wreath sets include a rose candle. White first appears on Christmas Eve and may be continued through the Sunday after Christmas, Epiphany, and the Sunday after Epiphany (celebrated by many as the Baptism of Christ) to show that all of these events are related in the incarnation of Jesus Christ. White is also used for Easter and Sundays following. (Some traditions use Gold or both for Christmas and Easter.)