Text: Readings for Epiphany
A generation that has been traumatized by an event of human or natural suffering and destruction can sometimes only be healed by the next generation to come. The Israel that Isaiah describes was torn from its land and was exiled to Babylon. But later Persia freed the Israelites and allowed them to go home. The passage we heard from Isaiah comes from this period. It describes a time when the sons and daughters of Israel come home and comfort their parents with a joyful vision of what is to be.
The vision was a restored Jerusalem. Not only restored to its former glory, though there was that, too. But to be restored as a fitting people of God. The Israelites were God’s people. They had been given great gifts. The law and the promises which flowed into and from it were a guide to the right kind of life, a life which was in sync with God’s manner and intentions, which is what the word righteous means.
Israel was to be a light to the rest of the world—the nations, the gentiles. The light was a beacon—a marker of the kind of nation that was God’s nation—and an illumination—revealing God and God’s way. The world was a mess—as if it were covered with a thick darkness, as the world often seems to be. Israel was to be the model, an example to the world of the way all nations could be.
And now, says Isaiah, it will be so. Nations will come to your light, it says, and kings to the brightness of your dawn. But the radiance of Jerusalem was not the light of Israel, though. It was not owned by Israel, not inherent in its nationality. It was the radiance of God shining through and in the people of God.
What the other nations were drawn to see was not the power of Israel. Not its success and riches. Not the grandeur of its army. It was something else.
The kings of Israel were anointed by prophets and operated under the law of God. Psalm 72, which we just sang, is a prayer for an inauguration, the crowning of a new king. The prayer accomplishes three things. The prayer makes the king: it calls on God to empower the king to fulfill God’s intent. And it reminds the king of what that intent is. And it prepares a way to judge the king, in case the king should fail in remembering or in acting. As kings and leaders sometimes do.
The rulers of other lands would be drawn to Israel because of the way of life of the people that was embodied, as the psalm describes it, in the job description of the king. The king has three responsibilities: to ensure justice, righteousness, and peace.
Justice means that the poor are not neglected nor exploited by the rich. A just society is when things are even-handed, where the prosperity of some is shared with the needs of others. Justice is not fairness or equality (or retribution), but a force that restores right order and reconciles the needs and resources of all. The king defends the needy, the psalm says, rescues the poor, and crushes the oppressor, delivers those who cry out in distress and have no helper.
Righteousness means that the principles of the culture are lined up with the will of God. We’ve talked about this before. There is a way of God. Righteousness is not purity or strictness as much as it is an alignment of point of view, goals, and methods. It is more than doing what God says to do; it is being in sync with God and God’s creation.
And peace—shalom—is peace between nations and people, peace of mind, and also—as it is translated in one of the two times is appears here—is also prosperity. It is what we mean when we say “a time of peace.” Not just safety and defense, but a time without fear or anxiety. A kind of pervasive contentment.
Kings will come to Israel because it is governed in a way that ensures justice, righteousness, and peace. This is God’s call to Israel. And it is to us, who hear this same call from Jesus.
It is not surprising that Matthew borrows the images of these readings—foreign rulers bringing gold and frankincense, for example—to tell the story of the wise men who come to honor Jesus. The three kings, which is what we call them by tradition—Three Kings Day, and We Three Kings of Orient—though they are not kings and not three.
This day is properly called Epiphany, which means to be revealed or made known or make manifest. It is more completely called in some traditions the Manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles. This is helpful, because on this day we celebrate not only the appearance of Jesus in general, but his appearance in the midst of all the people of the world, not just a particular group.
You will have noticed that all the readings, even the one from Paul, talk about foreigners and strangers. It is important to Matthew that Jesus comes for the sake of all nations, not just Israel. Luke, who is especially concerned about the poor, has lowly shepherds greet the birth of Jesus. But Matthew puts there instead educated scientists—of a sort—from foreign lands. As it is with Paul, Jesus is a way for God’s grace to be made available to all sorts of people, even ones who do not expect him and who find him not in tradition or scripture or doctrine, but in other signs and pointers. And who perhaps end up not following him but go on by another road.
What is not different is that the light that shines in Jerusalem, according to Isaiah, and the light that shines in Christ through his teaching and his life is the same godly light. And in the same way it is a beacon and an illumination to all people.
The job of the king was to be the protector of justice, righteousness, and peace. Later, this job was delegated to all the people, and eventually through Christ it has become our job. It is given to us in baptism—may your light so shine before others. As with kings, we are not called to be recruiters, but we are called to act so that others may see God’s light.
The king’s charge is to, as the psalm says, be like refreshing rain upon the field, nourishing showers that water the earth. We have inherited that charge with this purpose: that justice, righteousness, and peace will prevail in all the world.
It is a joyful vision of what is to be.
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