Introduction
This is the sermon I had planned to preach at Holy Cross Lutheran Church, Beatrice, Neb., on Wednesday, Jan. 6, 2010, as part of Vespers on the Feast of the Epiphany of our Lord. The service was cancelled due to another snowstorm.
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Readings
Isaiah 60:1–6
Psalm 72 (antiphon v. 11)
Ephesians 3:1–12
Matthew 2:1–12
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Prayer
Father in heaven, grant us times of quiet thoughtfulness, that we may rest in your Spirit, listen to your voice, and ponder in our hearts the good news of your Son’s birth. Amen.
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Message
Across the centuries,
the voice of the prophet Isaiah
calls to us, saying:
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. (Isaiah 60:1–6, NRSV)
When we hear this message of hope,
we cannot help but be reminded
that for us, the light of God shines upon us in Jesus Christ,
and his glory has been made known to us in his birth.
His is a light
that flickers in a straw-strewn stable,
that glistens upon the gifts brought by the Magi,
that bobs upon the back of a donkey
as his parents become political refugees escaping to Egypt,
that flashes upon the water running down his beard
when his cousin John baptizes him in the Jordan,
that shines upon the faces of his followers
as they witness his preaching and teaching and healing,
that dries the blood upon his brow
as he draws his dying breath upon the cross,
that radiates victorious from his loving heart
as his Father raises him from the dead,
that illumines his apostles as they witness his ascension.
And on and on and on,
until his light rests upon you and me,
having shone upon us in our Baptism,
having opened our eyes to his presence in his Holy Meal,
having enlightened us in his Word read and proclaimed.
There may be times when we think the light grows dim.
And to be honest, the darkness does sometimes seem to grow,
to surround us with fear and loneliness and loss and faithlessness.
Isaiah says, “For darkness shall cover the earth,
and thick darkness the peoples….” (Isaiah 60:2a, NRSV)
This is a promise from God,
but not one we like to be true or want to come to pass.
But there it is: darkness shall cover the earth
and wrap us in thick darkness,
like a fog impervious to the light,
like a blanket of blackness wrapped about our heads,
blinding us to the world around us.
God promises us this will happen.
But then, this is not his final promise,
not his assurance of his ultimate plan for us.
And so, as we gathered this evening,
we recalled together his promise of life and light
in his Son, Jesus Christ,
echoing the Prologue of John’s Gospel
that we have heard twice this Christmas season.
In it St. John writes,
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. (John 1:3b–5, NRSV)
And so, in our gathering, we proclaimed:
Jesus Christ is the Light of the world,
the light no darkness can overcome.
Stay with us, Lord, for it is evening,
and the day is almost over.
Let your light scatter the darkness,
and illumine your Church. (Lutheran Book of Worship, p. 142)
Can we imagine a greater message of hope,
a more reassuring word of comfort
in the midst of these cold days,
these long dark nights,
these times when the world seems hell-bent on self-destruction,
when our common conversations grow coarse,
when our politics is interminably contentious,
when our Church wonders about its mission,
when our families wither and fracture,
when our work is imperiled and our play seems pointless?
It’s when this all settles on our shoulders
like that blanket of darkness,
and we are tempted to despair—to live as if we have no hope—
that we can find the greatest comfort
in hearing God’s word of encouragement
call to us across the centuries
in the voice of Isaiah, God’s prophet:
Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you. (Isaiah 60:1, NRSV) Amen.