Sunday Morning Greek Blog

March 4, 2023

Life Lessons From a Year Through the Lectionary (Isaiah 58–61)

Background

I’m in the midst of a few weeks off from preaching, so I’ve had some time to reflect on the past 14 months of preaching through the Lectionary/Liturgical Calendar[1] at the behest of my childhood home church, Mt. View Presbyterian in Omaha. At the beginning of 2022, they had asked me to follow the Revised Common Lectionary, because that makes it easy for their small church to plan out bulletins and coordinate with other guest preachers.

It’s kind of like being back in seminary, having a different assignment due every two weeks or so, and because I’m not afraid of any challenge when it comes to preaching the Bible, I wholeheartedly agreed. I will admit as well that it’s beneficial to me, because I don’t have to think about topics in advance. Lincoln (IL) Christian Seminary taught me some great skills when it comes to hermeneutics (the science of interpretation) and homiletics (the skills for preaching), so I already know how to go through the motions to prepare.

Although I was raised in the Presbyterian faith and went through my church’s confirmation process, not much of that stuck as a sixth grader (or however old I was at the time). By the time I got to high school, I had begun to form my own ideas about my faith, and I started to look for something that was grounded more directly in Scripture and less reliant on the “traditions of men.” I found that home in the Restoration Movement (independent Christian Church) when I went to college.

The Restoration Movement traces its roots to the frontier Midwest (Kentucky, Pennsylvania, Ohio areas) where a group of preachers decided the best way to “do” church was to primarily stick to what the Bible said and not make manmade creeds or religious rules a test of faith or fidelity. “No creed but Christ; no book but the Bible”; “Where Scripture speaks, we speak; where they are silent there’s freedom” or “we’re silent.” Accordingly, things like the Liturgical Calendar or traditional Holy Days were downplayed, unless there was biblical precedent (e.g., the birth of Christ announced by angels). Historically, we’ve operated under the principle that the operations of God’s grace are not dictated by the Liturgical Calendar or any other calendar.

The operations of God’s grace are not dictated by the Liturgical Calendar or any other calendar.

While I still generally operate under that principle, I have come to discover the biblical underpinnings of many of the Holy Days or Seasons. In addition to that, I have come to see how important some of these traditions are to the Mt. View congregation as currently constituted. I have been refreshed and uplifted in my faith in God and my knowledge of his word by the work I’ve had to do to prepare messages based on the Lectionary readings for a particular Sunday. As such, I want to take the opportunity of this article to share what I’ve discovered about some of the lesser-known Holy Days and Seasons, at least among those in the Restoration Movement tradition, and perhaps encourage my brothers and sisters in the Restoration Movement to consider a more intentional approach to them.

Advent: Preparing for the Coming Messiah

As with most things, it’s best to start at the beginning, so I want to take a look at Advent first. The Lectionary cycles through three years (Years A, B, and C) of readings, and Advent marks the beginning of the new liturgical year.[2] As you might imagine, Advent is the most familiar to me. I have fond memories of getting the Advent calendars with chocolate or other goodies in them (maybe even a Bible verse?) and especially of lighting the Advent candles in church service with my family. I know our family got to do it at least one Advent Sunday when I was growing up.

What I had forgotten was that each Sunday in Advent had its own special theme. This may vary among the traditions, but the four common themes are usually Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love. For Advent 2022 (Year A of the new cycle), the OT passages focused on Isaiah.[3] What I find interesting is that many of these passages could have dual fulfillment, referring both to the first coming of the Messiah and the second coming of the Messiah. For example, Isaiah 2:3 (Year A, first Sunday) mentions going to the temple where God will teach his ways, while 2:4 speaks of beating swords into plowshares, which is typically associated with the second coming.

Isaiah 11:1–2 (second Sunday) speaks of Jesus as the one upon whom the Spirit of the Lord will rest, while 11:4 says “He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth.” Isaiah 35 (third Sunday) appears to reference much of Jesus’s healing ministry, but vs. 4 speaks God coming with vengeance. Isaiah 7:14 (fourth Sunday) is the prophecy Matthew quotes about the virgin birth of Christ, even though it has a partial fulfillment in the immediate chapters of Isaiah following that. Isaiah 9 (“For unto us a Child is born”) is the annual passage for Christmas Eve service.

It’s easy to see, then, why many of the Jews at the time of Jesus’s ministry were looking for a Messiah that would overthrow Roman rule. This led me to an important realization: God’s people have never lived in a time where they had no expectation of a coming Messiah, except perhaps for those who were close to the Messiah during his earthly ministry. Even though scholars are fairly certain that Jesus was not born in the month of December, the celebration of Advent along with Christmas not only as a retrospective on Jesus’s birth and first coming and all the heavenly fanfare that went along with that, but also as a prospective look at the second coming of Christ is still highly relevant to Christians today, especially in our current culture and climate.

God’s people have never lived in a time where they had no expectation of a coming Messiah.

Epiphany

I recently posted my Epiphany message, A Pastor’s Epiphany About Epiphany (Matthew 2:1–12; Isaiah 60:1–6; Psalm 72), so I won’t say too much about that here. The title pretty much sums it up. Epiphany focuses on the visit of the magi to Jesus, which, if you read the Gospel account closely, seems to come a few days after the birth of Christ (historically 12 days after, but there’s no biblical text to suggest that time frame); Jesus’s family was in a house by that time. Focusing on the Isaiah passage here, which is the same every year in the Lectionary, reveals some interesting clues to where the magi came from.

As I was preparing the Epiphany message, I realized that I’d never really heard anyone in the Restoration Movement talk about where these magi had come from. That seemed pretty odd to me given that we’re supposed to focus on examining the Scriptures to figure out the truth. I’d heard about David Longnecker’s Mystery of the Magi in a news report. The book gives a detailed analysis of where these magi may have lived and what their connection was to Jewish history and prophecy. As it turns out, these magi were probably not from Persia, because Persia was in decline at the time. Rather, they were probably from some diaspora Jews that never made it to Babylon and settled in communities east of the Jordan river and Dead Sea, and perhaps as far south as Midian. They were known as Nabateans. They would have had a more intimate knowledge of Messianic prophecy and seem to fit the demographic and economic descriptions in the Isaiah 60 passage, as I explain in my message. Isaiah 60:1 may refer to the star they followed; they were at the crossroads of several prominent trade routes; and “Nebaioth” is mentioned, which may well be the root of the name of the Nabateans.

If there’s any application to this knowledge, I think it’s that we need to learn to recognize the signs of the times to anticipate the second coming of Christ, which ties in to the secondary theme of Advent. The Nabateans appear to have been diligently searching the skies and paying attention to the signs, because they did not want to miss the coming of the Messiah they had hoped for as well.

“Jesus would probably laugh at us for giving up things like chocolate, beer, coffee…all the things that actually bring us joy and make us happy.”

Lent

In the past couple weeks since Lent began, I’ve had one friend ask whether I observe Ash Wednesday, and another ask me what I thought about a Facebook post about one person’s unique take on Lent. Here’s a quote cited in the post from a priest he’d heard:

“Jesus would probably laugh at us for giving up things like chocolate, beer, coffee…all the things that actually bring us joy and make us happy.

What He might suggest is giving up the things that make us miserable in God’s Paradise.

Things like self doubt, insecurities, jealousy, greed, and gossip and anger.

The things that move us away from The Light.

Honor His sacrifice by giving up The Darkness in your Life.”

Now I’ve never given up anything for Lent, because I don’t observe it. And I’ve never had ashes placed on my forehead to initiate a Lenten fast. But I thought what this priest he’s quoting said made a lot of sense. But here’s where my initial principle comes into play: the operation of God’s grace isn’t limited to a calendar or a season. Shouldn’t we always be giving up the darkness in our lives so we can more fully know God? That’s a good way to live to be sure, and I commend anyone who can do that, but if it’s something we should give up permanently, then is it really a fast? Is it really a sacrifice to give up something that’s bad for us?

Before I even looked at the Lectionary for what passage is assigned for Lent, I knew Isaiah 58 was really the best definition of fasting we have in the Bible. As it turns out, that is the evergreen passage for Lent. The problem as I see it with concept of Lent as a personal fast is that it is somewhat self-centered. Sure, the presumed motivation is to get closer to God, but how does giving up a food item or certain activity actually accomplish that? And again, if it’s something that you know is bad for you anyway, why do you need the backdrop of a religious Holy Season to accomplish it?

If we look at Isaiah’s description of fasting, though, there’s really nothing selfish about how it should be. There’s no talk of personal sacrifice or personal wellbeing. In fact, Isaiah (58:5) scolds his readers for thinking of fasting in just such a way:

5 Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,

only a day for people to humble themselves?

Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed

and for lying in sackcloth and ashes?

Is that what you call a fast,

a day acceptable to the Lord?[4]

Isaiah then goes on to describe what the Lord expects from our fasting, and there’s nothing selfish about it, except that when we do the hard things, then we have a reward waiting for us. What are the hard things (vv. 6–7, 9b–10a)?

  • Loose the chains of injustice
  • Untie the cords of the yoke
  • Set the oppressed free and satisfy their needs
  • Break every yoke
  • Share your food with the hungry by spending yourself on their behalf
  • Provide the poor wanderer with shelter
  • Clothe the naked
  • Not turn away from our own flesh and blood
  • Do away with the blame game and malicious talk

What are the resulting rewards? They’re commensurate with the degree to which we work toward accomplishing the hard stuff! This isn’t legalism, though. This is what it means to show our faith by what we do, not just by what we say. We talk the talk AND walk the walk. Integrity.

  • Your light will break forth like the dawn
  • Your healing will appear quickly
  • Your righteousness will go before you
  • The glory of the LORD will be your rear guard
  • You will call, and the LORD will answer
  • You will cry for help, and he will be there for you
  • Your light will rise in the darkness, like the noonday sun
  • The LORD will always guide you, satisfy you, and strengthen you.

And so on and so on and so on.

In the Old Testament, most references to fasting are about a community fasting, not individuals. When it occurs in the books of pre-exilic history, it often refers to a prebattle ritual. David fasted for his first child with Bathsheba, but to no avail. In the post-exilic history, fasting is mentioned in connection with restoring Jerusalem to a semblance of its pre-exilic state (e.g., compare Isaiah 58:12 to Isaiah 61:4). In the New Testament, most references to fasting are about what to do when you fast. There’s very little mention of its purpose, although the reference to John’s disciples fasting most likely indicates they were waiting for the Messiah.

In the Old Testament, most references to fasting are about a community fasting, not individuals.

Above, I made a parenthetical reference to Isaiah 61 with respect to rebuilding ancient ruins. Nehemiah fasted before taking on the project to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. But do you know what else is significant about Isaiah 61? That is the passage Jesus uses for his own ministry in Luke’s account, immediately after Jesus spends 40 days fasting in the wilderness. His words sound very much like the purpose of fasting in Isaiah 58. Jesus fasted for 40 days in the wilderness because he knew he had big things, Isaiah 58 big things, to accomplish in his ministry, so he did it right. Check out Isaiah 61:1–3a and see if that doesn’t sound a lot like Isaiah 58:

The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me,

because the Lord has anointed me

to proclaim good news to the poor.

He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,

to proclaim freedom for the captives

and release from darkness for the prisoners,

to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor

and the day of vengeance of our God,

to comfort all who mourn,

3           and provide for those who grieve in Zion—

to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,

the oil of joy instead of mourning,

and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.[5]

So fasting is for the big things; the big decisions. The Gospels do hint that fasting had taken on a more individual application in some cases, but I don’t think its purpose, as outlined in Isaiah 58, was ever diminished. Jesus set the standard for fasting. Another interesting aspect of fasting in the NT: it’s never mentioned after Acts, and only twice in Acts 13:2–3 around a decision about whom to send out to the Gentiles.

The application for the modern church seems clear, then. While there does seem to be something to be gained by fasting personally, the more important goal the Scriptures (and Jesus) have in fasting is justice, especially for the poor and oppressed. The Scriptures also seem clear, both in the OT and especially with John’s disciples in the NT, that corporate fasting is much more powerful and effective in God’s kingdom economy.

Conclusion (for now)

This post is already pretty long, so I’ll forego discussing Easter through Passover, which makes up the last of the Holy Seasons in the Liturgical Calendar. The rest of the Sundays in the Liturgical Calendar after Passover are identified as “Propers,” 29 of them for the remainder of 2023. That seems kind of unusual to me to have the major church Holy Days packed into five months of the year. Do we need 22 weeks a year to get ready for the other 30 weeks? Is the liturgical year intended to be a microcosm of the Christian life: we educate ourselves about who Christ is and what he’s done for us early on so that we can walk faithfully for the rest of our lives?

I’d love to hear your stories about how these Holy Days or Holy Seasons have impacted you. As I said before, I’d never really given them much thought until this last year, so I’ve tried to look at them from an outsider’s perspective, since I have little to no historical experience with these things. I do hope my brothers and sisters in the Restoration Movement will consider my words here and how they can present these Holy Days and Seasons in a fresh new way to reach those who may have lost their way for whatever reasons. I think the body of Christ will benefit greatly if we can discover a new appreciation for the Liturgical Calendar.

My opinions are my own.

Scott Stocking


[1] The Liturgical Calendar is the order of the Holy Days and Seasons. The Lectionary represents the assigned Scripture texts for each day that are used in the worship service or as the basis for the message on any given day of the Liturgical Calendar. My focus here is primarily on those events that happen on Sundays.

[2] The new liturgical year formally begins on the Thursday before the first Sunday in Advent. This is usually the last Thursday of November, so this is typically Thanksgiving Day, unless November has five Thursdays.

[3] For some Holy Days, the passages are different from year to year in the cycle, but are the same in the respective years of each cycle. So year A has the same passages for Advent in 2019, 2022, 2025, etc.; Year B for 2020, 2023, 2026, etc.. For other Holy Days, Epiphany and Lent, for example, the passages are the same for all three years in the cycle and thus across all cycles.

[4] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[5] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

February 27, 2023

A Pastor’s Epiphany About Epiphany (Matthew 2:1–12; Isaiah 60:1–6; Psalm 72)

Click Play above to hear the message.

I preached this message on January 8, 2023, the first Sunday after Epiphany (January 6), at Mt. View Presbyterian Church in Omaha. As I say in my message, I had never really given much thought to this “Holy Day,” because the brotherhood I’m associated with today doesn’t typically do anything special with any Holy Days except Christmas and Easter. There may be a divine component as to why I’m posting this almost two months after preaching the message. I was recently drawn into a couple conversations on Lent and Ash Wednesday by friends who are from a Catholic and another mainline Protestant tradition, respectively, and together, the Holy Spirit has been using these experiences to prompt me to take a fresh look at these Holy Days that I had dismissed out-of-hand as traditions of man. Look for another blog post soon on what my thought process has been in that regard. The message is lightly edited for publication.

Historical Background

Epiphany. As English words go, it’s kind of a funny sounding word, don’t you think? When I hear that “piff” sound in the word, it reminds me of the sound I make when I think something is too easy for me. For those outside of mainline denominations, if they know the word at all, it probably doesn’t have any sort of religious or Christian meaning for them: when someone says, “I had an epiphany,” they’re not talking about a cheeseburger from Dinker’s, although that could be a close comparison for burger lovers. Anybody hungry now? In that sense of the word, an epiphany moment is when you see the light, discover your purpose, or understand clearly what action you must take to set your life on a better and more prosperous path.

But for those of us in the Western church, the “Epiphany,” theeeee “Epiphany” is not just some moment you have internally, but it’s a series of events surrounding one person, Jesus Christ, that has impact on the whole human race eternally. It is the short period of time surrounding the birth of Jesus where not only is he revealed as God’s Messiah to the shepherds in the fields, but also to the Magi from the East, wherever that may have been. Now when we were kids and did the Christmas nativity scene in the front of the sanctuary, the Magi were always there with the shepherds. Did you notice in Matthew’s text where the Magi encountered Jesus: it wasn’t in the manger; it was in a house! More on that later. First, I want to look a little bit at the word itself.

Now as I’ve grown and matured as a Christian and a preacher, I’ve come to adopt the view that I should call Bible things by Bible names, where practical, so that when I talk about something biblical, I can point to the Bible and say: “Here it is.” But sometimes we use words that aren’t in the Bible, at least, not in our English translations, to summarize biblical concepts. “Trinity” is one of those words that isn’t in the Bible, but the Bible is pretty clear about the triune relationship among the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.

Word Study on ἐπιφαίνω (epiphainō)

Similarly, the word “Epiphany” is not found in the text of our English translations, but the word is simply borrowed from a family of words we have in the Greek version of the Old Testament and the Greek New Testament. It is an intensified form of a word that means “appear” or “make known.” Half of its uses in the OT Greek text are found in the phrase “make your face shine upon us” (Numbers 6:25 and several passages in the Psalms), and a few other uses refer to God revealing himself to someone.

In the NT, the noun is used 5 times in 1 & 2 Timothy and Titus to refer to either the first or second “appearing” of the Savior. The verb is used by Zechariah in his song of praise in Luke 1 to refer to Mary’s child as “the rising sun [who] will come to us from heaven to shine on those living in darkness.” It’s also used twice in Titus to refer to “the grace of God” and “the kindness and love of God our Savior” appearing.

Now the thing that makes this an “intensified” word, that is, to use the Greek, an EPIphainō and not just a phainō, is the nature of what was revealed. This is where the Magi come in. Historically, according to the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, the term was first used of a church feast on January 6 in the Eastern church in the third century, and originally focused on the baptism of Jesus, where the Holy Spirit descended like a dove on him and God said, “This is my beloved Son, with him I am well pleased.” To this day, the Eastern Orthodox church still focuses on the baptism of Christ on Epiphany. However, when the Western church adopted the Holy Day, they switched the focus to the visit of the Magi, whose gifts revealed that Jesus was the Son of God, the expected heir of David’s throne, the Messiah. It wasn’t until the 20th century that the Western (i.e., Roman Catholic) church separated out the celebration of the baptism of Christ to the first Sunday after Epiphany, which happens to be today according to the Lectionary we follow here!

Background of the Magi

So who were these Magi and where did they come from? Why did they have such a profound interest in identifying “his star” and following it to find the king? How would they even know about such a star? Was it prophesied somewhere, or was it just some oral tradition that had circulated through the Middle East for centuries?

As it turns out, there are a couple prophecies from the Old Testament that seem to refer to the star, the Magi or kings who would bring gifts, and where they come from. The two OT passages identified every year in the lectionary for January 6, Epiphany, are Isaiah 60 and Psalm 72, the latter of which we already read this morning. We’ll come back to those in a moment. Traditionally, for hundreds of years, we’ve believed that these Magi from the East came from Persia, the region of modern-day Iran and Iraq. It’s true that Magi, or wise men, were well respected and wielded a great deal of political power in their heyday, especially as we see in the book of Daniel.

But in the excellent book called Mystery of the Magi by Dwight Longenecker, the author pulls together the history of the Persian Magi from several sources and shows that, by the time of Jesus’s birth, these Magi had lost most of their political power and influence after Alexander the Great conquered their territory and up through the time the Parthians had wrested control from Alexander’s successors. At the time of Christ’s birth, then, the Persian magi had become marginalized to the point of near exile and poverty, and their political ties to the Roman Empire were on such shaky ground that they would not have had the resources or the political influence to make such a trip to see the newborn king, let alone bring gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.

Enter the Nabateans. The Nabateans were an up-and-coming nation that inhabited the territory east of the Jordan River, from as far north as Damascus and as far south as the Arabian peninsula, including Midian and perhaps even modern-day Yemen. One of their most prominent cities was Petra, you know, that city with “Treasury” carved out of the side of a cliff. They had begun to come into prominence after the Jews were exiled to Babylon. In fact, many of the Jews who were exiled probably never made it to Babylon, because according to historians, there were several Jewish colonies scattered throughout the region the Nabateans controlled, and several made their way to these colonies instead. These exiles most likely included priests who would have brought with them the knowledge of the prophets, psalms, and Torah to lead their brethren in worship.

By the time of Jesus’s birth, the Nabateans controlled many of the trade routes between Persia and the Mediterranean. As such, they had wealth and access to abundant supplies of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, not to mention some pretty slick technology to capture and provide water for their survival in the desert regions where they lived. Longenecker believes these Magi came from Nabatea, and they would have had a deep understanding of Jewish prophecies, because they had strong ancestral ties to the Jews and strong religious ties to the Temple.

Prophetic Background for Epiphany

Having laid out this background, then, I want us to look first at Isaiah 60 to see why they mention following a star to find the Messiah. Listen to verses 1 through 3:

“Arise, shine, for your light has come,

and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.

See, darkness covers the earth

and thick darkness is over the peoples,

but the Lord rises upon you

and his glory appears over you.

Nations will come to your light,

and kings to the brightness of your dawn. [1]

Doesn’t that sound kind of like a star rising? And what about “his glory appears over you”? Kind of sounds like Matthew’s description of the Magi coming to where the star “stopped over the place where the child was.” Where was this place? According to Isaiah 60:14, it is “the City of the Lord, Zion of the Holy One of Israel.” Where were Mary, Joseph, and Jesus? Well according to Matthew, by the time the Magi found him, they were in a house, not a stable. It’s not clear whether they were still in Bethlehem and where the star was in relation to Bethlehem and Jerusalem, but the context seems to suggest they were in or close to Bethlehem, because the area around Bethlehem was where Herod had the children under 2 killed. As such, I think it’s a fair assumption that this is at least the primary prophecy these Nabatean Magi had in mind. But let’s look a little further to be sure (vv. 4–5).

“Lift up your eyes and look about you:

All assemble and come to you;

your sons come from afar,

and your daughters are carried on the hip.

Then you will look and be radiant,

your heart will throb and swell with joy;

the wealth on the seas will be brought to you,

to you the riches of the nations will come. [2]

In Matthew’s story, we don’t have a count of how many Magi came to see Jesus. Again, tradition tries to fill in the gap by assigning one Magus to each gift. We know a bunch of shepherds had come to see baby Jesus in the manger, at the prompting of a “heavenly host” that hovered over them. If the Nabatean Magi thought this was such an important event, wouldn’t more than three of them have come? This would have been a pretty big deal for all of them! Add to that the Nabateans’ profitable trade industry, and you can see the connection to the “wealth on the seas” and the “riches of the nations” that could be brought to Israel.

Finally, vs. 6 names several cities that would have been in Nabatea, and vs. 7 mentions “the rams of Nebaioth.” Because the Nabateans do not have any surviving written documents we’re aware of, some have speculated that “Nebaioth” is actually the kingdom of the Nabateans. Verse 6 even mentions that “All those from Sheba shall come. They shall bring gold and frankincense.”[3] At the time, the only source of frankincense known was in Sheba in southern Arabia and Somaliland in Africa.

So it seems pretty clear that Isaiah 60 was in fact one of the prophecies these Magi looked forward to, not just because it predicted the coming of the Messiah, but because the Nabateans recognized that they had a role to fulfill in that prophecy.

Psalm 72 sounds quite a bit like Isaiah 61, the prophecy Jesus read about himself the first time we see him speaking in the synagogue, especially the parts about defending the afflicted, crushing the oppressor, delivering the needy, and rescuing the poor from oppression and violence. Note that vs. 10 also mentions Sheba twice in reference to bringing gifts and gold “kings of Sheba and Seba bring gifts.” Given all this, it seems highly likely to me that these Magi were important rulers among the Nabateans, both religious and political, and that they had an intimate and rich connection to Jewish religion, culture, and ancestry.

What Epiphany Means for Us

So this is a lot of information here this morning, but what does it mean for us today? The gifts brought by the Magi were not randomly chosen. As we saw in the Isaiah and Psalms passages, they were “planned” long before Christ was born, and these Magi knew that. Gold was brought as a tribute to a king. Today, of course, many of us give of our resources to the church or other organizations that help the needy. We use that money to share the good news of Jesus and the gospel with those who need hope. It reminds me of the parable of the hidden treasure in Matthew 13:44: When the man found the treasure, he sold all that he had to buy the field it was in. The gift of gold is an easy one to figure out for us. My guess is, Mary and Joseph may have used some of that gold when they had to flee to Egypt to provide for their own needs in that short exile.

The gift of frankincense applies to us at a deeper level, the level of the heart. Frankincense was used in the worship ceremonies in the Tabernacle in the wilderness and in the temple in Jerusalem. The rarity of frankincense, along with its pleasing aroma, is what makes it valuable. I think it’s a fair jump, then, to suggest that it can also represent our own individual uniqueness in what we ourselves have to offer to God in worship. Worship is not just a ceremony or a ritual we perform on a regular basis. Worship comes from the root word “worth,” and we show we consider Christ worthy by offering the whole of our uniqueness to him and his service. Perhaps the apostle Paul had this in mind when he wrote in 2 Corinthians 2:14–15: “But thanks be to God, who always leads us as captives in Christ’s triumphal procession and uses us to spread the aroma of the knowledge of him everywhere. For we are to God the pleasing aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.[4]

Finally, myrrh was used in part to ease severe pain, and also to prepare the body for the grave in that day. On the cross, Jesus was also offered wine mixed with myrrh, but according to Mark’s gospel, he refused it. Myrrh, then, can remind us that each of us must make ourselves ready for that day when we meet our Savior face to face in heaven, and are welcomed into our eternal home.

It occurs to me that Epiphany, then, is really a microcosm of the whole Christian experience. We celebrate the birth and revealing of Jesus as the Messiah, the dedication of our lives to him in worship, and the hope of eternal life that he purchased for us in his death and resurrection. And I have to say, preparing this message has been an “epiphany” for me. As a kid growing up in this church, I never thought much about Epiphany. I guess I was still too pumped up on the adrenaline I got from all my Christmas gifts to concern myself with the gifts presented to Jesus. As an adult, I never forgot my Presbyterian roots, but I had found a spiritual home among a brotherhood that had its own roots in Scottish Presbyterianism, but who didn’t have a separate recognition of this tradition—it was all wrapped up with Christmas. I never had a class in seminary about the traditions and what they signified in the “mainline” denominations.

So once again, I’ll say thank you for allowing me to share with you, and thank you for asking that I follow the Lectionary. I hope and pray our time together this morning has been as enlightening to you as it has been for me this week. Peace to you all. Amen.


[1] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[2] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[3] The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. 2016. Wheaton, IL: Crossway Bibles.

[4] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

December 5, 2022

Waiting for the Messiah…Again (Matthew 24:36–44)

God’s people have never lived without the hope of a coming Messiah!

Okay, we’re going to start with a little honesty quiz: How many of you have ever jumped to the last chapter of an intriguing book to skip the details and find out what happens to the main character, or for a mystery, to find out “whodunnit”? Whoever picked the order for the passages in the lectionary as we begin the new liturgical calendar must have been the type of person who likes to read the end of the book first, because on this first Sunday of Advent, as we begin to looking forward to celebrating the First Coming and birth of our savior, the lectionary committee chose to start with passages describing Jesus’s Second Coming!

But who can blame them, right? Even as God was confronting and scolding Adam and Eve for listening to the serpent in the Garden rather than heeding the one “thou shalt not” God had given them, he was already looking forward to a coming Messiah: the “seed of the woman” would crush the serpent’s head and win victory over death. He let Adam and Eve know that Jesus is coming, but there’s work to be done, so start the family line.

Sometime later, after the flood and a fresh start, God called Abraham to be the father of many nations. This was, in effect, a microcosm of the Creation itself. Just as God himself was the father of all nations through Adam and Eve, so Abraham would be the father of God’s chosen people, the Hebrews. And even though Abraham tried to (and did) make that happen according to his own will through Hagar and Ishmael, God still gave him the child of the promise, Isaac, through Sarah, and that at the ripe old age of 100. And even though Isaac was Sarah’s only child, God still tested Abraham to sacrifice his only son of the promise on the very mountain where the Messiah would be sacrificed on the cross nearly 2,000 years later. Abraham may not have known that Jesus was coming; there was work to do, a sacrifice to be made, and he understood that God would provide a sacrifice so we wouldn’t have to pay the price. In fact, Genesis 22:8 could be translated: “God will provide himself as the lamb.”

God called Moses to deliver his people from slavery in Egypt. After being raised in the lap of luxury in Pharaoh’s court, Moses realized how poorly the Egyptians were treating his own people, and he rebelled and fled to Midian. There he encountered Yahweh, the “I am,” in a burning bush, not realizing that several centuries later, God’s own son would use the name “I am” of himself seven times. God used Moses’s second 40 years of his life to prepare him to lead his chosen people out of slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land. Jesus was coming; there was work to be done, a nation to be rescued from the clutches of Egypt and led into its own inheritance where Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob once dwelt.

The problem with a theocracy is that, if the leaders and the people aren’t going to be faithful to the God at the head of the theocracy, things probably aren’t going to work too well. After several cycles of faithful obedience, rebellion, captivity, and rescue during the period of the Judges, the Jews thought their answer might be found in a king, just like the nations around them. God knew better, but because the people insisted on it, God let them have their way. They made their first choice, Saul, based seemingly on his appearance, a man who stood taller than the rest. But after proving to be an utter failure, God called David to be anointed as their king.

But God did something else when he called David: he knew that their earthly kings, all of whom would be descended from David’s line, would follow the same cycle of Judges over their collective history. The people were beginning to understand this as well, that no human ruler, whether priest or king, could ever really bring them satisfaction as a political ruler or religious leader. Knowing this, God made an additional promise, that the Messiah they’d heard whispers about through their history would come from the lineage of David. Not only would he be a king, but he would also be a priest “in the order of Melchizedek.” Psalm 110, written by David, became the Messianic psalm that embodied that hope:

The Lord says to my lord:

“Sit at my right hand

until I make your enemies

a footstool for your feet.”

The Lord will extend your mighty scepter from Zion, saying,

“Rule in the midst of your enemies!”

Your troops will be willing

on your day of battle.

Arrayed in holy splendor,

your young men will come to you

like dew from the morning’s womb. j

The Lord has sworn

and will not change his mind:

“You are a priest forever,

in the order of Melchizedek.”

The Lord is at your right hand;

he will crush kings on the day of his wrath.

He will judge the nations, heaping up the dead

and crushing the rulers of the whole earth.

He will drink from a brook along the way,

and so he will lift his head high. [1]

This is the psalm Jesus used to confound the pharisees: They knew the Messiah would be the son of David, but they couldn’t figure out why “father” David would call his “son” or descendant “Lord.” It just didn’t work that way in Jewish culture. This psalm narrowed the focus for the Jews about where the Messiah would come from, so they made every effort to keep track of who was born to whom, thus the early chapters of 1 Chronicles that happen to agree with Matthew’s genealogy. The Jews knew a Messiah was coming, but there was work to be done. They had to establish the royal line from which their ultimate king, their Messiah, would be born.

From that point on, the prophets take up the task of filling in some of the details of the coming Messiah. Isaiah tells us Emmanuel will be born of a virgin, and he will bring light to the Gentiles, and Micah tells us this will happen in Bethlehem (5:2). Isaiah tells us that not only will the Messiah be a servant to God’s people, but a suffering servant who will be wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. Isaiah goes on to tell us he will be an overcoming servant who will bring us hope not only in the present, but in the closing chapters of his prophecy the promise of a new heaven and new earth! He speaks of the second coming of the Messiah even though the first coming of the Messiah hasn’t happened yet, demonstrating how sure Isaiah is of this hope.

Jeremiah speaks of a restored kingdom and a new covenant in which God will “put his law in their minds and write it on their hearts” (31:33). Ezekiel says more than once that God will remove our hearts of stone and give us new hearts of flesh and a new Spirit. He also says that someday, a new temple would be built to house the glory of God. Ezekiel calls his readers to be watchmen and shepherds protecting God’s people from danger. Zechariah may even unwittingly give us a clue to the Messiah’s name, as Joshua, the Hebrew form of Jesus’s name, is the high priest who eventually receives a crown. Zechariah goes on to speak of the victorious king coming in power riding on a donkey. Joel speaks of God’s Spirit being poured out on all flesh.

Jesus is coming! That moment is getting closer every day, and the hope of that day seems to grow more intense as the Jews return from exile and rebuild Jerusalem and eventually the temple. The Messiah is coming soon, and there’s still work to be done: building, restoring, encouraging faithfulness, being a light to the nations around them. He must be coming soon, right?

But what was God’s next move? Silence. From the end of the Old Testament to the beginning of the New Testament, we have no prophetic record. Complete prophetic silence. I’d like to think that, at least in part, this was due to the Jews finally figuring out how to live as God’s chosen people without man-made institutions and without the former ups and downs of their faithfulness to God. But there are a couple historical events that impact the world and prepare it for the coming Messiah: First, the passionate defense of the integrity of God’s temple against Antioch Epiphanes, who had desecrated the temple by sacrificing a pig there. This led to the rise of the Herodian dynasty. Second, the Jews began working on translating their writings into the Greek language that Alexander the Great and his successors had spread throughout the Mediterranean region and points east, making it the universal language of the day, so that God’s word could spread far and wide in the common tongue of the day. Jesus is coming, and finally, the work is done, and the time has come for the Messiah to be born.

And so we come to the gospel accounts of the birth of Jesus. Matthew and Luke record genealogies of Jesus; Matthew from Joseph’s line, and Luke from Mary’s line. John connects Jesus to the imagery of light from Isaiah’s prophecy, and Mark dispenses with all that and jumps straight to the ministry of Jesus. All the gospel writers in their own unique styles either connect the OT prophecies to Jesus or put the words of those prophecies in Jesus’s mouth and he lets people know he’s come to fulfill them. As Jesus ministers, he gathers a group of disciples around him who will carry on his ministry. He’s given them hints about his coming death and the persecution of his followers, but they never really quite get to full understanding of that until after he rises from the dead.

Before we get to Jesus’s words in today’s passage in Matthew 24, Jesus paints a grim picture of the end times: wars and rumors of war, famine, earthquake, persecution, “the abomination that causes desolation,” and other “dreadful” conditions that cause people to fear and lose hope. But in vs. 36 and following, Jesus begins to make it plain that whatever will happen, whether in the short-term or long-term, has implications further down the road for the consummation of history.

The purpose of Jesus’s first coming and his ministry was to “train the trainers” on how to live in the New Covenant he will establish upon his death, and what life will be like depending on the Spirit of God that’s to be given to all who believe, not just to the prophets or priests. And of course, his shed blood on the cross is what establishes that covenant. Jesus draws on Ezekiel’s prophecy here by calling them to be watchful. They may not know when he’s returning, but they should be able to recognize the signs. So for us, we know Jesus is coming again, but there’s still work to be done, sharing the Gospel with a lost world that desperately needs the eternal hope that God has purchased for us with the death and resurrection of his son. Just as the patriarchs and prophets of old looked forward to the first coming of the Messiah, so we who are alive today look forward to his second coming. God’s people have never lived without the hope of a coming Messiah! The darkness seems to grow more powerful every day, but we have the power as children of light to dispel the darkness and proclaim that hope by being a shining city on a hill.

When day is night,

Darkness is honored as light

And wrong is deemed as right.

When no one is shocked

That God is mocked

And our foundations are rocked.

When war is peace

And the greedy feast

On the lies of men

Who ignore the Ten

Commandments meant to bring us life

So our lot is only pain and strife.

When the tools of power

Are the delicate flowers

Who are pawns in a game

That has no shame.

“When wasteful war shall statues overturn,

And broils root out the work of masonry,

Nor Mars his sword nor war’s quick fire shall burn

The living record of your memory.”[2]

Then Maranatha! Come Lord Jesus and establish your eternal kingdom and us in our eternal home. Hallelujah and Amen!


[1] The New International Version. 2011. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan.

[2] Shakespeare, William. 1914. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Edited by W. J. Craig. London; Edinburgh; Glasgow; New York; Toronto; Melbourne; Bombay: Humphrey Milford; Oxford University Press.

March 30, 2011

Opening the Womb

I spent six days last week working through Luke 1–2. One might think that the third Gospel might not offer anything new after working through the first two Gospels, but this is Luke: evangelist, scholar, and physician. Luke is certainly more detailed than any of the other Gospel writers, so he offers a lot more detail to digest.

One of the interesting things I discovered is that Luke’s description of the “womb” is quite different for Elizabeth and Mary. Four times in Luke 1, Luke uses the Greek word κοιλία
(koilia) to describe the womb: three times it refers to John in Elizabeth’s womb, and once to Jesus in Mary’s womb. This is the more common word for “womb” (10 of its 20 uses in the NT refer to the womb or birth) in both the OT and NT, but it is also a more generic word for the “belly.” About one third of its uses in the Septuagint (LXX, Greek OT) are tied to the Hebrew word בֶּטֶן (bě∙ṭěn, ‘womb,’ ‘belly’). But when it comes to the birth of Jesus, Luke bests Matthew in his use of the OT and draws on the Passover story for a uniquely different word.

Luke, in 2:23, cites Exodus 13:2: Πᾶν ἄρσεν διανοῖγον μήτραν ἅγιον τῷ κυρίῳ κληθήσεται, (pan arsen dianoigon mētran hagion tō kuriō klēthēsetai, ‘every male who opens the birth canal will be called holy to the Lord’). It was the phrase διανοῖγον μήτραν that caught my attention. There is nothing special about the word διανοῖγω that would suggest “firstborn” necessarily, but of the few times the word is used in the NT, the “opening” is always dramatic. The prefix on the word (δια-) implies an opening “through” something. The word μήτρα
is more specific than the womb. The fact that it is apparently related to the Greek word for “mother” makes the word unique to women, first of all. Second, the fact that Luke, the physician, uses a more anatomically correct term from the Greek version of the OT, indicates that there is indeed something special about this birth. One third of the occurrences of μήτρα in the OT are in a phrase about the firstborn “opening the womb.” The term is so tied to the female sexual organ that Louw and Nida, in their Greek-English Lexicon Based on Semantic Domains, warn that a literal translation of the phrase in another language might imply the first act of coitus with a woman rather than the first male to be born from her womb.

The only other use of the word in the NT is found in Romans 4:19 with respect to Sarah’s “dead” womb. The word is also used in that context in several places in the OT as well, referring either to infertility or a stillborn child. One of the most notable occurrences is in 1 Samuel 1:5–6, the story of the birth of Samuel. Hannah has been unable to have children, and in the course of time, after much fervent prayer and the blessing of Eli, Hannah conceives and has a son, whom she dedicates to the service of the Lord. That son was Samuel, the last judge before Israel demanded a king. He was the first son of Hannah, but not of Hannah’s husband, Elkanah, who had children by another wife, Penninah.

Hannah’s prayer in 1 Samuel 2 has many parallels to Mary’s Magnificat (Luke 1:46–55) and Zechariah’s song (Luke 1:68–79), and the connection here with Luke’s birth stories brings attention to the whole history of the “firstborn” in Israel. If you’ve ever read through the OT, you may have noticed that the firstborn, even though Exodus says he is holy to God, never seems to get the full blessing that would have been standard in that culture, at least not for the major players in the biblical story. Cain, the first firstborn, started things off on the wrong foot by killing his (obviously) younger brother Abel, and the story of the firstborn (or at least, the first son of a father) became almost a curse for the history of God’s people in the OT. Abraham took matters into his own hands with Hagar and his firstborn, Ishmael, proved to be a thorn in the flesh for the offspring of Sarah’s firstborn, Isaac. Later, Isaac and Rebekah had twins, Esau and Jacob, but Jacob (later Israel) deceived his father to steal the birthright of the firstborn from Esau. Jacob’s first son was not the star of the show, but Rachel’s first son by Jacob, Joseph, became the savior of Israel’s family. Even Judah, from whom Jesus is descended, was not the firstborn, but the fourth son of Leah, Jacob’s least-favorite wife. King David, again in the lineage of Jesus, was the youngest of all his brothers.

How does all this tie into the birth stories of Jesus and John the Baptizer? With the births of John and Jesus, the history of the firstborn in Israel is redeemed. In those stories, we have not one, but two sons miraculously conceived. Elizabeth’s story parallels Sarah’s: barren into her old age. Mary’s story is completely new: a son conceived by the Holy Spirit; no human intervention other than Mary carrying the child to birth. John is empowered by the Holy Spirit to testify about his cousin Jesus, and of course, Jesus is God’s (not to mention Mary’s) firstborn, spotless lamb, Savior of the world. Finally, stories about firstborn sons who got it right! As a firstborn myself, I’m a little sensitive to that, but by God’s grace, I will go forward in faith, and I pray that I will lead my firstborn son (and my younger daughters) along the path of godliness and faithfulness.

Peace!

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