“You have established equity; you have executed justice and righteousness in Jacob” (Ps 99:4). So the psalmist sings, in the psalm offered by the lectionary for this coming Sunday, The Feast of the Transfiguration. Perhaps it has been selected for this festival because it depicts the Lord sitting “enthroned upon the cherubim” as the earth quakes (v.1), that he spoke to Israel “in the pillar of cloud” (v.7)—images that resonate with the stories of Moses and Jesusnthatnwe have heard this week.
Noting that leaders of the past have called out to God and been answered—Moses, Aaron, and Samuel (99:6)—the psalmist praises God, “you answered them; you were a forgiving God to them, but an avenger of their wrongdoings” (99:8).
In this psalm it is the king, the “Mighty King, lover of justice [who has] established equity” (99:4), whose “royal scepter is a scepter of equity” (Ps 45:6), modelled on the Lord God himself, who “judges the world with righteousness [and] judges the peoples with equity” (Ps 9:8; see also 67:4; 75:2; 96:10; 98:9). Accordingly, King David is remembered as the one who “administered justice and equity to all his people” (2 Sam 8:15; 1 Chron 18:14), and the opening words of the book of wisdom attributed to King Solomon are “love righteousness, you rulers of the earth, think of the Lord in goodness and seek him with sincerity of heart” (Wisd Sol 1:1).
Divine justice is regularly noted in tandem with God’s mercy forgiveness. “Great is your mercy, O Lord; give me life according to your justice” (Ps 119:156); and “in your steadfast love hear my voice; O Lord, in your justice preserve my life” (Ps 119:149). The prophet Isaiah tells the rebellious people of his day, “the Lord waits to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show mercy to you—for the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him” (Isa 30:18).
Likewise, through the prophet Hosea, the Lord God promises to Israel, “I will take you for my wife in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love, and in mercy” (Hos 2:19), whilst centuries later, Ezekiel reminds the exiles of God’s pledge: “I say to the righteous that they shall surely live, yet if they trust in their righteousness and commit iniquity, none of their righteous deeds shall be remembered; but in the iniquity that they have committed they shall die” (Ezek 33:13). Justice and mercy belong hand-in-hand, as yet another prophetic voice declares as the exiles are returning to the land: “in my wrath I struck you down, but in my favour I have had mercy on you” (Isa 60:10).
God’s mercy sat at the heart of the covenant made with Israel; the Lord affirms to Moses, “I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy” (Exod 33:19). So in the longest psalm, declaring persistent praise of the Law, the psalmist offers the petition, “let your mercy come to me, that I may live, for your law is my delight” (Ps 119:77). A number of other psalms likewise contain petitions God to show mercy (Ps 25:6; 40:11; 51:1; 69:16; 123:3).
Jesus, centuries later, brings together mercy and justice when he accuses the scribes and the Pharisees of hypocrisy, as they “neglect the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faith” (Matt 23:23).
Justice, of course, is at the heart of the covenant that God made with Israel. Moses is said to have instructed, “justice, and only justice, you shall pursue” (Deut 16:20), the king is charged with exhibiting justice (Ps 72:1–2; Isa 32:1), whilst many prophets advocate for justice (Isa 1:17; 5:7; 30:18; 42:1–4; 51:4; 56:1; Jer 9:24; 22:3; 23:5; 33:15; Ezek 18:5–9; 34:16; Dan 4:37; Hos 12:6; Amos 5:15, 24; Mic 3:1–8; 6:8).
That God is righteous is likewise declared in scripture (Deut 32:4; Ps 145:7; Job 34:17). The psalmists regularly thank God for God’s righteousness (Ps 5:8; 7:17; 9:8; 33:5; 35:24, 28; 36:6; 50:6; etc) and note the importance of humans living in that same way of righteousness (Ps 18:20, 24; 85:10–13; 106:3, 31; 112:1–3, 9).
The book of Proverbs advises that the wisdom it offers is “for gaining instruction in wise dealing, righteousness, justice, and equity” (Prov 1:3) and the prophets consistently advocated for Israel to live in accordance with righteousness (Hos 10:12; Amos 5:24; Isa 1:22; 5:7; 28:17; 32:16–17; 54:14; Jer 22:3; Ezek 18:19–29; Dan 9:24; 12:3; Zeph 2:3; Mal 4:1–3; Hab 2:1–4).
This psalm thus focusses some important elements in the Israelite understanding of God, summarising notes from many places elsewhere in Hebrew Scriptures. These recurring notes of the nature of God then form the basis for a Christian understanding of Jesus, who affirms mercy (Matt 23:23), teaches righteousness (Matt 5:6, 10, 20; 6:33), offers forgiveness (Mark 2:10; Luke 23:34; 1 John 1:9), and exudes grace (John 1:14–18). The affirmation made in this ancient Jewish psalm is one that we Christians can joyfully sing and affirm this Transfiguration!
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The situation in the Middle East continues to be volatile. My reflections in the early stages of the present inflammation of that conflict is at
As the coming Sunday is the Festival of the Transfiguration, the passages offered by the lectionary cluster around the theme of the revelation of God’s glory. That is what happened for the three disciples on the mountain, when Jesus was transfigured (Luke 9:28–36). That was also the experience for Israel, in a story that is much older. When Moses came down from the mountain, Aaron and all the Israelites saw that “the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God” (Exod 34:29–35).
I’ve reflected on the Gospel in another blog. To better understand the significance of this statement in Exodus, we need to see this Hebrew Scripture passage in its larger narrative context. See
This incident comes after a very significant moment in the story of Israel, when the people had sinned by making a golden calf to worship (32:1–6). This story most likely relates to the god who was regarded as the head of the gods amongst the Canaanites—El, who was often depicted as a bull. The bull was the strongest animal in the ancient farmyard, and thus a fitting symbol for a powerful god. The Israelites chose to imitate that god through their golden construction. The story told in Exodus 32 mocks the Canaanite god, depicting him as more like a calf.
By adopting a Canaanite symbol, the Israelites had turned from God (32:21). It seems they would deserve their fate—although Moses interceded and saved them from divine wrath (32:23). Moses is the hero who stands in the breach, to convince God to change God’s mind. He had negotiated with God for forgiveness (32:11–14, 30–34), and had also sought clarification from God as to what “God’s ways” entailed (33:16–17).
In response, God promises that “my presence will go with you, and I will give you rest” (33:14), but Moses presses his case: “show me your glory, I pray” (33:18). Not just the divine presence, but the glory of God is what Moses seeks. God does not respond exactly as Moses hoped for, saying that “I will make all my goodness pass before you, and will proclaim before you the name, ‘The Lord’; and I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy” (33:19).
These words that the Lord offers to Moses are subsequently echoed in the prayer that Moses offers Aaron and his sons: “the Lord bless you and keep you … and be gracious to you” (Num 6:22–27)—a ancient prayer which lives on in Christian spirituality and liturgy!
However, the Lord God stops short of full self-revelation, declaring, “you cannot see my face; for no one shall see me and live” (Exod 33:20). Moses is granted a view of God’s “back”, but is not able to see the face of God (33:23). Now, the Hebrew word here translated as “back” refers to the “hindquarters”—a polite way of saying that Moses saw only God’s exposed buttocks, rather than his smiling face. Almost every translation chooses the polite wording, “my back”. The King James Version comes closest to an honest translation with “my back parts”. We might best translate this verse as “you will see my backside, but not my face”.
Yet the request for God’s face to shine upon people is made in a number of psalms. “There are many”, says the psalmist, “who say, ‘O that we might see some good! Let the light of your face shine on us, O Lord!’” (Ps 4:6). In Psalm 31, the psalmist sings, “Let your face shine upon your servant; save me in your steadfast love” (Ps 31:16). Again in Psalm 67, the psalmist echoes more explicitly the Aaronic Blessing, praying, “May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us—Selah—that your way may be known upon earth, your saving power among all nations” (Ps 67:1–3).
So although Moses asks God to “show me your glory” (33:18), he is permitted to see back(side) of God, but not the full glory of God (33:21–23). This encounter is enough to make “the skin of [Moses’s] face shine because he had been talking with God” (34:30, 35). Of course, this story, located within the mythic sagas of ancient Israel, is not presented as an historical account. Rather, as myth (a story with a deep meaning) it is rich with symbolism—encountering the divine is a deeply transformative experience.
The Lord God had assured Moses that “you have found favour in my sight, and I know you by name” (33:17). And so, after the breach of the covenant that took place in the creation of the idolatrous image of the Canaanite Bull, Moses and the Lord God renew the covenant with Israel (34:1–28). This reinforces that God’s favour remains with the nation. As the people remain faithful to the various requirements that are stipulated (34:11–26), including pilgrimage by all adult males three times a year to the temple (34:23), so the Lord God promises “I will cast out nations before you, and enlarge your borders; no one shall covet your land when you go up to appear before the Lord your God three times in the year” (34:24). That is how God’s favour is shown.
Throughout the worship of the Lord God in the temple, psalmists have prayed for God’s favour to be shown to the faithful people of Israel (Ps 90:17; 106:4; 119:58). As well as in this covenant renewal ceremony (Exod 34:9), the ancestral sagas of Israel record that God showed favour to Noah (Gen 6:8), Joseph (Gen 39:4), Moses (Exod 33:12–17), the people in the wilderness (Lev 26:9), Samuel (1 Sam 2:26), Manasseh (2 Chron 33:12–13), and the remnant who returned to the land (Ezra 9:8). God’s gracious favour endures through the generations.
The favour of the Lord is manifested most often in “the glory of the Lord” which shines over Israel. Moses had experienced this on the top of Mount Sinai, when “the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel” (Exod 24:16–18). That glory had already been seen by the Israelites in the wilderness of Sin (Exod 16:10), and that glory filled the tabernacle when the people had finished constructing it (Exod 40:34–35).
The closing verse of the book of Exodus notes that “the cloud of the Lord was on the tabernacle by day, and fire was in the cloud by night, before the eyes of all the house of Israel at each stage of their journey” (Exod 40:38). A number of other references to this are made throughout the books of the Torah (Lev 9:6, 23; Num 14:10; 16:19, 42; 20:6; Deut 5:24). This appears to have continued on until the ark of God was captured by the Philistines, for at that moment “the glory has departed from Israel” (1 Sam 4:21–22).
Centuries later, at the time that Solomon prayed his lengthy prayer of dedication of the newly-built Temple in Jerusalem, “when the priests came out of the holy place, a cloud filled the house of the Lord, so that the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord” (1 Kings 8:10–11; 2 Chron 7:1–3).
The glory of the Lord was then closely associated with the Temple in ensuing centuries, as various psalms attest (Ps 24:3–10; 96:7–8). “O Lord, I love the house in which you dwell, and the place where your glory abides”, one psalmist sings (Ps 26:8); yet other psalms extend the location of God’s glory, exulting that it extends “over all the earth” (Ps 57:5, 11; 72:19; 102:15; 108:5) and even “above the heavens” (Ps 8:1; 19:1; 57:5, 11; 97:6; 108:5; 113:4; 148:13).
By the time of the prophet Isaiah, this wider scope of the glory of the Lord was sung by the seraphim in their song, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory” (Isa 6:3), whilst a little later another voice sang that “the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea” (Hab 2:14). During the Exile, another prophet, looking to the return of the people to the land of Israel, declared that “the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together” (Isa 40:5).
Another exilic prophet had a series of visions in which “the glory of the Lord” was seen (Ezek 1—39), culminating in a declaration by God that “I will display my glory among the nations; and all the nations shall see my judgment that I have executed, and my hand that I have laid on them” (Ezek 39:21), followed by a vision in which “the Lord entered the temple by the gate facing east”, and at that time “the spirit lifted me up, and brought me into the inner court; and the glory of the Lord filled the temple” (Ezek 44:4–5).
Later still, a prophetic voice during the time of return to the land declared to the people that “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” (Isa 60:2–3). And well after that, another prophet attributes to “one like a human being, coming with the clouds of heaven”, the gift of “dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him” (Dan 9:13–14). So God’s presence had continued with the people through his glory over the years, and it was still expected to be seen in their hoped-for future.
Another way that this vision of God’s presence was sought was through yearning for the ability to “see God face to face”. That’s what Moses experienced at Sinai (Deut 5:1–4), and what he experienced when he went out of the camp, to where the tent was pitched, for “whenever Moses entered the tent, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent, and the Lord would speak with Moses … thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend” (Exod 33:7–11).
That’s what Jacob had experienced at the ford of the Jabbok (Gen 32:30). That’s what Moses continued to experience through the wilderness years (Num 12:7–8), as Moses reports: “you, O Lord, are seen face to face, your cloud stands over them and you go in front of them, in a pillar of cloud by day and in a pillar of fire by night” (Num 14:14). Moses is remembered as unique amongst the prophets because he was one “whom the Lord knew face to face” (Deut 34:10; see also Sir 44:5).
Gideon was also privileged to see the angel of the Lord face to face (Judg 6:22), while Ezekiel tells Israel that God declares to them, “I will bring you out from the peoples … and I will bring you into the wilderness of the peoples, and there I will enter into judgment with you face to face” (Ezek 20:34–35).
And most strikingly and strategically of all, it was on the top of Mount Sinai that Moses had the most direct encounter with God of any in the ancestral sagas: “Moses came down from Mount Sinai; as he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God” (Exod 34:29). It was said that “the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend” (Exod 33:11).
Paul draws on the scriptural idea of the divine glory when he writes to the Romans that “we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God” (Rom 5:2), and that it is through the work of the Spirit which gives hope to the whole creation that it will “obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Rom 8:21). He tells the Thessalonians that “God … calls you into his own kingdom and glory” (1 Thess 2:12) and speaks of the life of believers as being “sown in dishonour … raised in glory” (1 Cor 15:43).
So Paul advises the Corinthians, “whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God” (1 Cor 10:31), and later on—in the passage that forms the Epistle reading this Sunday—he tells them that “all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit” (2 Cor 3:18). So this glory is a means of transformation for believers.
So Paul celebrates that God “has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ” (2 Cor 4:6), rejoicing that Jesus “will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself” (Phil 3:21).
Later writers pick up on this motif of believers sharing in the glory of God. Writing in the name of Paul, one affirms that “God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Col 1:27), while another declares that that God “called you through our proclamation of the good news, so that you may obtain the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ” (2 Thess 2:14). Another writer speaks of God “bringing many children to glory” through Jesus (Heb 2:10), yet another celebrates that God will “make you stand without blemish in the presence of his glory with rejoicing” (Jude 24).
This, of course, leads into the notion in later Christian theology that heaven can be described as the place of glory—the place where James and John wish to be seated alongside Jesus (Mark 10:37), the place where believers are raised (1 Cor 15:43), the place where faithful elders will “win the crown of glory that never fades away” (1 Pet 5:4), the place where the place where Jesus himself is ultimately “taken up in glory” (1 Tim 3:16).
And that glory was most clearly seen, one writer maintains, in Jesus, when “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory” (John 1:14). For the author of John’s Gospel, the full manifestation of heaven (glory) was made on earth, in Jesus, who was God’s only son, “who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known” (John 1:18).
So it is that this Sunday, we celebrate the festival in which that glory is most clearly seen in Jesus. Luke reports that “while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white” (Luke 9:29). As Moses and Elijah appeared, talking to him, Luke continues that “they appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem” (9:31), and then that Peter and those with him “saw his glory and the two men who stood with him” (9:32). In Jesus, the offering of divine favour and the manifestation of divine glory, seen already many times in the long story of Israel, is now brought to a higher level of more satisfying fulfilment. And so, we celebrate.
Every Sunday throughout the Christian year (save for the six Sundays in the season of Easter), the Revised Common Lectionary provides a passage from Hebrew Scripture as the First Reading in the set of four readings for that Sunday. (During Easter, a passage from Acts stands as the First Reading, providing stories from the early years of the movement which Jesus founded.)
Each year, during the season of Epiphany, the First Readings relate to the prophetic figures of ancient Israel. In Year C (this year), they are drawn from the books of Isaiah and Jeremiah. I think we need to be wary how we hear and interpret these prophetic passages. There is often a temptation to hearvthesemoldermreadings and argue that, because of what the Gospel passage says, they have now been “ fulfilled” in Jesus.
That’s a danger that we should work carefully to avoid—for if we simply take Hebrew Scriptures as providing the “set up” which is being “fulfilled” in Jesus, we are running the risk of an inappropriate appropriation of the older texts. It’s a path that can lead us to a supercessionist attitude towards Hebrew Scriptures and, by extension, to Judaism. (By supercessionism I mean “the belief that Christians have replaced Jews in the love and purpose of God”.) This post is designed to steer us in a different direction.
Each year, the Feast of Epiphany includes Isaiah 60:1–6 as the First Reading. In this passage, the prophet foresees that “nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn” (Isa 60:3); he specifies that when they come to the light of the Lord, “they shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord” (Isa 60:6). The reason for reading this on Epiphany is obvious—it correlates well with the story in Matthew of when the magi came to visit Jesus, and “they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh” (Matt 2:11).
The first Sunday after the Feast of Epiphany is always the day on which the Baptism of Jesus is recalled. One year (Year B) places the beginnings of the priestly creation account (Gen 1:1–5) alongside this Gospel story. In the other two years, passages from Second Isaiah are offered; for this year, Year C, this is Isaiah 43:1–7, which includes the affirmation, “do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine; when you pass through the waters, I will be with you” (Isa 43:1b—2). The presence of water in both of these passages seems to be the reason for their linking with the baptism of Jesus.
The sequence of passages will continue with selections from Third Isaiah (Isa 62:1–5, Epiphany 2C), First Isaiah (Isa 6:1–13, Epiphany 5C), and two excerpts from Jeremiah (Jer 1:4–10, Epiphany 4C, and Jer 17:5–10, Epiphany 6C). A section of Nehemiah 8 is offered on Epiphany 3C, while the sequence concludes with a story recounting the moment when Joseph revealed himself to his brothers when they had come to Egypt (in Gen 45) on Epiphany 7C.
I think it is noteworthy that two of these passages relate specifically to “call”. For Epiphany 4C, the call of the young prophet Jeremiah is placed alongside the Lukan account of the reception accorded to the young(ish) Jesus when he spoke at the synagogue in his home town. Jeremiah is told by the Lord that the message he will speak to his people will be about “to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant” (Jer 1:10). It won’t be a straightforward task for Jeremiah—as the rest of the book reporting his oracles confirms.
In like manner, Jesus is initially met with amazement “at the gracious words that came from his mouth” (Luke 4:22). However, after he recounts older stories in which he commends the faith of outsiders (a widow of Zarephath, a leper of Syria), the people turn on him, “drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff” (Luke 4:29). The duality of positive and negative responses, evident throughout the ministry of Jesus, is signalled in this early, programmatic incident.
For Epiphany 5C, when the Gospel moves on the recount the call of Simon Peter and those who were fishing with him (Luke 5:1–11), the Hebrew Scripture passage placed alongside this is the narrative of the call of Isaiah (Isa 6:1–13). Simon and his fellow fishermen were beside the lake of Genessaret, while Isaiah was in the Temple in Jerusalem. Both men, however, recognize that they are in the presence of an awesome power. Isaiah cries out, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” (Isa 6:5). Simon Peter “fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’” (Luke 5:8).
Isaiah’s commissioning alerts him to the reality that those to whom he speaks will be struck with incomprehension; they will “not look with their eyes, and listen with their ears, and comprehend with their minds, and turn and be healed” (Isa 6:10). His role will be to call for repentance from a sinful people. Simon Peter is given the charge, “from now on you will be catching people” (Luke 5:10). That imagery also refers to the reality that in the prophetic rhetoric of years past, the metaphor of fishing for a human being has indicated the means of carrying out the judgement of God (Jer 16:16–18; Hab 1:14–17; Ezek 29:4–5). See
The two Hebrew Scripture call narratives thus inform and enrich the Gospel passages that are heard alongside them on those days. A similar dynamic is at work on Epiphany 6C, when the Gospel offers a set of blessings and curses spoken by Jesus (Luke 6:20–26). Alongside this is a pair of sayings, a curse and a blessing, that Jeremiah spoke to Israel: “cursed are those who trust in mere mortals … blessed are those who trust in the Lord” (Jer 17:5–8). Both Jeremiah and Jesus address their contemporaries with a challenge through their words. The challenge is to meet the testing of the Lord (Jer 17:10) and to receive the “great reward” awaiting in heaven (Luke 6:23).
And perhaps the tale of reconciliation told in Genesis 45 dramatically illustrates the central theme of the words of Jesus which are offered on Epiphany 7C: “love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return … be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (Luke 6:35–36). Joseph exemplifies what Jesus teaches.
As I noted above, I think there is always a temptation to hear a passage from the older scriptures, inherited from the ancient stories of Israel, as being “fulfilled” in a story told in the later scriptures, formed by the early Church. This pattern draws on a flat reading of the statement by Jesus that “everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled” (Luke 24:44). It fosters a perspective that sees everything in Hebrew Scriptures as material that Jesus “brought to fulfilment”. It contains an implicit ideology that anything that took place in Judaism was “incomplete” and “in need of fulfilment”. The pathway into supercessionism is clear. For further discussion of supercessionism, see https://johntsquires.com/tag/supercessionism/
By contrast, I think that each of these paired passages can be read in a way that accords greater value to the Hebrew Scripture texts. I am reminded of what Richard B. Hays has written about in his book Echoes of Scripture in the Gospels (Baylor, 2017). Hays describes what he labels as figural reading, which is to read back from the Gospel into the older texts and see patterns and figures at work that may not have been evident at the time they were created.
The later texts in the New Testament can throw light on the passages in Hebrew Scripture, without insisting that hey “predict Jesus” and are “fulfilled” in Jesus. We can notice, not only how the NT writers shaped their words in ways that drew from Hebrew Scripture passages, but also how the internal dynamics in the later texts both utilise and illuminate those earlier passages, drawing forth from them new levels of meaning.
As the blurb for this book states, “He shows how each Gospel artfully uses scriptural echoes to re-narrate Israel’s story [and] to assert that Jesus is the embodiment of Israel’s God.” I think that is a really helpful way to think about how the paired passages work together, informing and enlightening each other. And that’s an appropriate thing to be looking for in those season of Epiphany—mutual understanding and enlightenment!
Yesterday, we focussed on “the slaughter of the innocents” which is commemorated in the Western Church on 28 December. Today, 29 December, is the day when this commemoration takes place in the Eastern Church.
This this potent story, full of pathos, is so resonant with events in the world in which we live today: people dying in invasions and wars; people fleeing, seeking refuge, in a safe place. Sadly, this part of the story has all but faded from view in “the Christmas story” that is recounted each Christmas. So here are some more thoughts—largely from the words written by contemporary hymn writers that tell this story.
There are clear words in these carols which show how the story challenges political values and policies and how it connects with the deepest feelings of human existence.
One contemporary hymn writer who has turned his attention to the story of Herod’s tyrannical rampage against the male children in Bethlehem, is the British Methodist, the Rev. Dr Andrew Pratt. Here is a powerful hymn which he has written about this story.
Another person who has worked well with words over many decades is the late Shirley Erena Murray, a Presbyterian from Aotearoa New Zealand. She was right on the money when she highlighted the violence and fear at the heart of the story, claiming that the infant in the story has “come to plead war’s counter-case”, and articulating the hope that “goodness will outclass the gun, evil has no tooth that can kill the truth.” Here’s her words:
Summer sun or winter skies, Christmas comes —
shepherds, angels, lullabies, words recorded by the wise:
read it in the book — take another look . . . .
Shadows track the hawk in flight, Christmas now —
children born in fire and fight, silent night a violent night,
hawks are in control of a nation’s soul.
There where terror plies its trade, Christmas now —
children learn to be afraid, minefields of distrust are laid,
evil is in force on a winning course.
Child of peace, God’s human face, Christmas now —
come to plead war’s counter-case, bring the dove a nesting place,
though her wings are torn, though her blood is drawn.
Winter skies or summer sun, Christmas comes —
still the threads of hope are spun, goodness will outclass the gun,
evil has no tooth that can kill the truth.
This ancient story resonates so strongly with our situation today, not because “it really happened, exactly like this”, but because (like a good myth does) it takes us to the centre of our humanity and reveals the depth of God’s presence in our midst. We ought to sing more about it!
For the Fourth Sunday in Advent this year, the Narrative Lectionary moves from words of the ancient prophets, to words which are similarly prophetic, in a song sung by a young woman who discovers that she is pregnant. The lectionary suggests that we hear about the message delivered to this young woman, Mary, which tells about the child she would bear—the scene often called “the Annunciation”—followed by the song sung by the young, pregnant Mary—the song that is best known as “the Magnificat” (Luke 1:46b—55). On the Annunciation scene, see
(Magnificat is the first word of the Latin version of this song. It makes sense, does it not, for a song that Mary most likely sang in Aramaic, and which is known to us from a Greek text, to be given a Latin title??? Such is the power of the western Roman Catholic Church, whose liturgy was in Latin for many centuries.)
The writer of the Gospel of Luke places this song in a scene that takes place after the pregnant Mary travels to visit a town in the hill country of Judaea. Mary is in the house of Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth, an elderly relative of Mary, who is also pregnant with child (Luke 1:39–45). This scene is rich with scriptural resonances.
I
Providing the Magnificat as the Psalm for the week has a certain poetic justice. Although this is part of the New Testament, this hymn is certainly a song in the mode of the psalms, as they are found in the book of that name in Hebrew Scripture. Indeed, such psalms are found not only in the book of Psalms, but in other places in those scriptures. Songs in the manner of psalms are scattered throughout the stories of the lives of the people of Israel—including into the century we identify as “the first century” (CE).
Included in these psalms are some striking songs. The Song of Miriam and the Song of Moses, both sung after the crossing of the Red Sea, are psalms of thanksgiving (Exod 15:21, and 15:1–18), whilst the Song of Moses at the end of his life recounts the story of the people (Deut 32:1–43). The Song of Deborah celebrates the defeat of Sisera of Canaan (Judges 5), whilst there are two Songs of David outside the book of Psalms: a psalm of thanksgiving after a series of battles with the Philistines (2 Sam 22) and another thanksgiving psalm after the ark was set inside the Tabernacle in Jerusalem (1 Chron 16:8–36).
Some prophetic books include psalms, such as a psalm of Hezekiah after he had recovered from illness (Isa 38:9-20), a psalm sung by Jonah from the belly of the fish that had swallowed him (Jon 2:1–10), and a prayer of praise sung by Habakkuk (Hab 3).
And then, at the beginning of the story of Samuel, his mother, Hannah, offers a long prayer in the manner of psalms of thanksgiving (1 Sam 2:1–10). We heard this song just a few weeks ago, on the penultimate Sunday of Year B (Pentecost 33). This particular psalm is most important when we come to consider the song sung about a later prophet, Jesus, by his mother, Mary (Luke 1:46–55).
II
We know that Jesus is intensely Jewish in the Synoptic Gospels. The story about Jesus begins in the heart of Jewish piety, and continues apace within the life of the people of Israel through his lifetime.
The opening scene of the orderly account of the things fulfilled among us (Luke’s Gospel), set in Jerusalem in the Temple precincts, reveals a pair of righteous Jews who faithfully keep the commandments of God (Luke 1:5–6). The first person we meet, Zechariah the priest, is devoted to the service of God in the Temple (1:8–9).
His wife, Elizabeth, expresses an attitude of deep faith in God, accepting her surprise pregnancy as “what the Lord has done for me” (1:25). They are both described as “righteous before God” (1:6). Elizabeth’s relative, Mary, demonstrates a similar faith as she submits to a similar fate, bearing a child, with the words, “here am I, the servant of the Lord” (1:38).
In turn, the traditional hopes and expectations of the people are articulated in spirit-inspired hymns sung by Mary (1:46–55, known as the Magnificat), Zechariah (1:67–79, known as the Benedictus), and Simeon the righteous (2:29–32, known as the Nunc dimittis, or the Song of Simeon). These songs set the strongly Jewish tone of the opening chapters.
The key characters operate as people of deep faith. God’s Spirit is active in these scenes; Mary is “overshadowed” by the Spirit (1:35), whilst Zechariah and Elizabeth are both “filled” with the Spirit (1:41, 1:67). Simeon is “righteous and devout” (2:25); the Spirit “rested on him” (2:25), then “revealed to him” the words he then speaks (2:26) before “guiding him … into the temple” (2:27).
This is the same Spirit that has been active since the moment of creation (Gen 1:2), that was breathed into human beings (Gen 2:7), and that infuses every one of the creatures brought into being in God’s wonderful creation (Ps 104:24–30). It is this Spirit that has endowed individuals with leadership (Exod 31:2–3; Num 11:25–26; Deut 34:9; and a number of judges) and which has inspired prophets to proclaim the word of the Lord (Isa 61:1; Ezek 2:2; Joel 2:28–29).
Mary stands in the long Jewish tradition of female singers. The story of the Exodus culminates in the short song sung by Miriam (Exod 15:21). Other females singing songs of salvation at key moments in the story include Deborah (Judges 5:1–31), Hannah (1 Sam 2:1–10), and Judith (Judith 16:1–17). These are the victory songs of the oppressed.
The two scenes involving Hannah and Mary have a number of parallels. The language and the events resonate with each other across the centuries. It seems to me that the author of this orderly account (by tradition, Luke) is well-read and very capable in his writing style. This whole section is shaped to read like a Hebrew Scripture narrative. So, in my understanding of Luke 1–2, the author has been influenced by the story of Hannah as he tells the story of Mary.
Indeed, we note this in the way the two songs begin. Hannah commences by singing out “my heart exults in the Lord; my strength is exalted in my God” (1 Sam 2:1). This is deliberately echoed in Mary’s song, where she begins “my soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour” (Luke 1:46).
Hannah describes God as the Holy One (2:2) and the Most High (2:10). Holy One is a term applied to God in the Writings (Ps 71:22; 78:41; 89:18; Prov 9:10; Job 6:10; Sir 4:14; 23:9; 53:10; 47:8; 48:20) and by the Prophets (Is 1:4; 5:19, 24; and a further 24 times; Jer 50:29; Ezek 8:13; Hos 11:9, 12; Hab 1:12; 3:3). Of course, Holiness was a central element of piety in ancient Israel, exemplified by the Holiness Code of Leviticus (Lev 11:44–45; 19:2; 20:7–8; see also Deut 7:6; 14:2, 21; 28:9). The followers of Jesus are instructed to consider themselves as God’s holy people (1 Cor 3:17; 6:19; Eph 5:25–27; Col 1:22; 3:12; Heb 3:1; 1 Pet 1:13–16; 2:5, 9) and to live accordingly.
Most High is also a very common way that God is described and addressed—23 times in the Psalms (Ps 7:17; 9:2; 18:13; etc) and a number of times elsewhere (Gen 14:17–24; Num 24:16; Deut 32:8; 1 Sam 2:10; 2 Sam 22:14; Isa 14:14; Lam 3:35, 38; Dan 3:26; 4:2, 17, 24, 25 and more; Hos 11:7; and also Wis Sol 5:15; 6:3; and 45 times in Sirach—4:10; 7:9, 15; 9:15, etc). It appears as a description of God in early Christian writings (Mark 5:7; Luke 1:32, 35, 76; 6:35: 8:28; Acts 7:48: 16:17).
Mary uses a similarly-familiar term, the Mighty One (1:49), which also is a biblical name for God (Gen 49:24; Ps 45:3; 50:1: 52:1; 132:2, 5; Isa 1:24; 49:26; 60:16; Sir 46:5–6, 16; 51:12), and then she goes on to affirm, “holy is his name”, alluding directly to the title of Holy One that Hannah has used.
Hannah’s declaration that “my strength is exalted in my God” (2:1) is echoed in Mary’s affirmation that “he has shown strength with his arm” (1:51). That strength is demonstrated in a series of claims made by Mary, regarding the proud, the powerful, and the rich, in contrast to the lowly and the hungry (1:51–53).
The clear juxtaposition of these categories, and God’s obvious preference for the latter group, is another way in which Mary’s song echoes and replicates Hannah’s song. Hannah’s “he brings low, he also exalts” (2:7) is expanded by Mary, “he has brought down the powerful, he has lifted up the lowly” (1:52). “He raises up the poor from the dust, lifts the needy from the ash heap, to make them sit with princes and inherit a seat of honour” (2:8) is reworked by Mary into her note that God “has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty” (1:53).
In these ways, it is clear that the righteous-justice desired by God for the people of God will in fact be evident; “the Lord will judge the ends of the earth” (2:10), sings Hannah; “he has helped his servant Israel in remembrance of his mercy” (1:54) is how Mary sings it. Both justice and mercy are fundamental aspects of the being of God which are worked out in the ways that God engages with the people of Israel. God is envisaged and experienced in the same way in each of these songs. The God of Hannah continues to be the God of Mary. These two songs strongly confirm that reality.
IV
What Hannah is celebrating is that God will be at work in the events of her time. In particular, despite her barren state (1 Sam 1:2, 5–8), Hannah prayed regularly for a son (1 Sam 2:10–18) and was blessed with just such a child: “in due time Hannah conceived and bore a son” (1 Sam 2:20, 27). Likewise, what Mary anticipates is that God will demonstrate the ongoing fulfilment of the promises made to Israel in the birth of her child given to her, despite her state as a virgin (Luke 1:27, 34).
Both newborn sons are dedicated to the Lord: Hannah’s son was dedicated as a nazirite (1 Sam 2:11, 22, 24–28), Mary’s son is recognised as the one who will have “the throne of David given to him” and who will “reign over the house of Jacob forever” (Luke 1:32–33). The son of Hannah is dedicated in “the house of the Lord at Shiloh” (1 Sam 2:24); the son of Mary is circumcised (Luke 1:21) and then taken “to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord” (Luke 1:22). The two stories mirror each other in the same way that the two songs run in parallel to each other.
So Mary affirms that “all generations will call me blessed” (1:48), in the same way that Leah exclaimed, “blessed am I! for the women will call me blessed” (Gen 30:13). Her song ends with the claim that the promise being fulfilled is made “to Abraham and to his descendants forever” (1:55), evoking the prayer of David, that the Lord “shows steadfast love to his anointed, to David and his descendants forever” (2 Sam 22:50). The exalting of the anointed is also noted at the very end of the song sung by Hannah (1 Sam 2:10).
V
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor and theologian who was executed by the Nazis, declared that the Magnificat, this song of Mary, “is at once the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary advent hymn ever sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary whom we sometimes see in paintings … This song has none of the sweet, nostalgic, or even playful tones of some of our Christmas carols. It is instead a hard, strong, inexorable song about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind.” (From a sermon during Advent on December 17, 1933; see http://cdn.bakerpublishinggroup.com/processed/esource-assets/files/1780/original/8.40.Luke_1.46-55__The_World%27s_First_Advent_Hymn.pdf?1524151427)
Martin Luther echoed Mary’s perspective when he declared, “the mightier you are, the more must you fear; the lowlier you are, the more must you take comfort.” Pope John Paul II noted the scholarly view that this song, as well as the songs by Zechariah and Simeon, are songs of the anawim (the faithful poor), whose songs offer “glorious praise of God … thanksgiving for the great things done by the Mighty One, the battle against the forces of evil, solidarity with the poor and fidelity to the God of the Covenant” (in a general audience on Psalm 149 on Wednesday 23 May 2001; see https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/audiences/2001/documents/hf_jp-ii_aud_20010523.html)
Sister Elizabeth Johnson sums it up well,
“The Magnificat is a revolutionary song of salvation whose political, economic, and social dimensions cannot be blunted. People in need in every society hear a blessing in this canticle. The battered woman, the single parent without resources, those without food on the table or without even a table, the homeless family, the young abandoned to their own devices, the old who are discarded: all are encompassed in the hope Mary proclaims”.
For the Fourth Sunday in Advent this year, the Narrative Lectionary moves from words of the ancient prophets, to words which are similarly prophetic, in a song sung by a young woman who discovers that she is pregnant. The lectionary suggests that we hear about the message delivered to this young woman, Mary, which tells about the child she would bear—the scene often called “the Annunciation”—followed by the song sung by the young, pregnant Mary—the song that is best known as “the Magnificat” (Luke 1:46b—55).
The orderly account of the things coming to fulfilment (which we know as the Gospel of Luke) tells us much more about the beginnings of Jesus (his conception, birth, and early days) than the other Gospels. The passage offered by the Narrative Lectionary for this Sunday, the Fourth Sunday in Advent this year, is one such passage.
The announcement that is being made in this scene, is to Mary, informing her that she will bear a child. Mary responds dramatically to this news. She is perplexed, amazed; she is a virgin. “How can this be?”, she asks. A messenger from God informs her, though, that impossibilities are now becoming realities. Indeed, her aged, barren cousin is now pregnant, and Mary will find herself bearing a child—but no ordinary a child; a child “who will be holy, who will he called Son of God”. Now that is really out of the ordinary!
We learn all of this through the “reporting” of a dialogue between the two characters, mother-to-be Mary, and the angel Gabriel. The dialogue isn’t an actual transcript of what took place—indeed, there is no way that the author of this Gospel could have been present to listen and remember.
Instead, the scene is based on the typical dialogue scene that we find at many places in Hebrew Scriptures. And it comes hard on the heels of a similar encounter, another dialogue scene, reported earlier in this chapter (Luke 1:5-22). The earlier dialogue involved an older man, Zechariah (although this dialogue ends up with Zechariah being completely mute); the next scene involves a young woman (who holds her own in the dialogue, as we shall see).
The dialogue proceeds, just as we would expect: he said, then she said; then he said, and so she said. He, of course, is the angel Gabriel. She is Mary, at this time identified simply as “a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph” (1:27).
Jews knew about the angel Gabriel from his appearances to Daniel (Dan 8:15-17, 9:21). He appeared to Daniel at the time of prayer (Dan 9:21)—presumably this is the same angel who had earlier appeared to Zechariah, in Jerusalem, at a time of prayer (1:10-11).
If this is indeed the same angelic person who appeared to Daniel (and to Zechariah, and Mary), then he was quite a sight; Daniel describes Gabriel as “a man clothed in linen, with a belt of gold from Uphaz around his waist. His body was like beryl, his face like lightning, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and the sound of his words like the roar of a multitude.” (Dan 10:5-6).
Such an appearance would undoubtedly evoke fear. Indeed, before Gabriel even speaks to him, Zechariah is said to have been “terrified, and fear overwhelmed him” (Luke 1:12), as also was Daniel (Dan 8:17), who says that “my strength left me, and my complexion grew deathly pale, and I retained no strength”, before he fell in a trance to the ground (Dan 10:8-9).
So the words of the angel, in both scenes, seek to meet this understandable response. “Do not be afraid”, he says to Zechariah (1:13) and also to Mary (1:30). This is what angels do; this is how they greet people: “do not be afraid” (see Gen 15:1, 26:24; 2 Kings 1:15; Dan 10:9). Zechariah’s fear had gripped him before he spoke a word, but Mary had the presence of mind, before the angel spoke these words, to reflect on what she was experiencing.
The dialogue begins when Gabriel greets Mary (1:28) and informs her that she was favoured (the word comes from the Greek word charis, which means grace or favour, and becomes a key theological term in early Christianity). Mary is described as being “much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be” (1:29).
He then says, as we have noted, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favour with God.” That is followed by a declaration of the name of the child: “you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus” (1:31). This is parallel to the declaration made to Zechariah: “your prayer has been heard; your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John” (1:13).
This follows the same pattern in scriptural stories when divinely-favoured women are told they will give birth, and they name of their child: Hagar, mother of Ishmael (Gen 16:11), Sarah, mother of Isaac (Gen 17:19), Gomer, the wife of Hosea and mother of three children (Hosea 1:4,6,9); and see also the moment of naming for Leah, mother of Asher (Gen 30:13), the unnamed mother of Samson (Judges 13:24), and Hannah, mother of Samuel (1 Sam 1:20).
The angel continues: “He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David; he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end” (1:32-33). The Davidic ancestry of Jesus was an important claim for the early Christians. It was cited in early literature as a key element (Luke 2:4; John 7:42; Rom 1:3; 2 Tim 2:8; Rev 5:5, 22:16; see more on this at https://johntsquires.com/2019/12/19/descended-from-david-according-to-the-flesh-rom-1/).
In response to this good comeback, Gabriel responds with a number of significant points. First, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.” This statement references three central scriptural elements.
The Holy Spirit is understood to be active throughout the story of Israel: at the moment of creation (Gen 1:1-2), bringing all creatures into being (Ps 104:30), in equipping specific leaders (Exod 31:2-3; Num 11:25, 26; Deut 34:9; Judges 3:9-10, 6:34, 11:29, 13:25; 1 Sam 10:6, 10, 11:6, 16:13, 2 Sam 23:2; 2 Kings 2:9, 15), by inspiring the prophets (Isa 61:1: Ezekiel 2:2; Joel 2:28-29), and in the servant of the Lord (Isa 42:1). Mary here stands with others early in Luke’s story who experience the Holy Spirit coming upon them (John, 1:15; Elizabeth, 1:41; Zechariah, 1:67; Simeon, 2:25-26); and, of course, Jesus himself is filled with the Spirit (3:22; 4:1).
Holiness was a central element of piety in ancient Israel; the holy God called a holy people to live in covenant with him, and exhibit holiness in every aspect of life (Lev 11:44-45, 19:2, 20:7-8; Exod 19:6; Deut 7:6, 14:2, 21, 28:9). Following from this prophetic word to his pregnant mother, the adult Jesus was indeed known as “the holy one” (Mark 1:24; Luke 4:34; John 6:69; Acts 3:14, 13:35).
“Son of God” was also a phrase derived from older traditions; the king was regarded as God’s son (Ps 2:7; 2 Sam 7:14), commencing with David (Ps 89:26-28), and Israel as a whole was regarded as God’s son (Exod 4:22: Jer 31:9, 20). It is applied to Jesus with regularity in his adult life (Luke 4:3,9,41; 8:28; 22:70; Acts 9:20; John 1:34,49; 11:4,27; 19:7; 20:31) as well as in early confessions of faith (Rom 1:4; 2 Cor 1:19; Gal 2:20; Eph 4:13; Heb 4:14; 6:6; 10:29; 1 John 3:8; 4:15; 5:5; Rev 2:18).
Then, Gabriel tells Mary, “your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren” (1:35). The Hebrew Scriptures offer accounts of women thought unable to bear a child, being visited by an angel and gifted a child by God, such as Sarah (Gen 11:30), Rebekah (Gen 25:21), and the woman who bore Samson (Judges 13:3). This blessing from God is celebrated by the psalmist (Ps 113:9) and the prophet (Isa 54:1).
Gabriel’s final words are “nothing will be impossible with God” (1:35-36). This also is a biblical phrase; see Zechariah 8:6, and note also Gen 18:14 and Job 42:2.
Finally, to end the conversation, Mary concludes, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word” (1:38). She accepts what is in store for her. Traditional Christianity has highlighted this element in the story; Mary becomes the humble, self-effacing, obediently submissive, thoroughly passive figure of traditional Catholic piety.
This overlooks the fact that “here am I” was a standard response to a commission from God, spoken by faithful and fearless prophets, Moses (Exod 3:4), Samuel (1 Sam 3:4), Isaiah (Isa 6:8), Trito-Isaiah (Isa 65:1), and Jeremiah (Jer 26:14), as well as the psalmist (Ps 40:7), and the patriarchs, Abraham (Gen 22:1), Esau (Gen 27:1), Jacob (Gen 31:11 and 46:2). It is also the response of Ananias in Damascus to a vision of the Lord (Acts 9:10). Mary is here accepting a challenging divine commission, and pledging her commitment to the task. It is an activist’s response!
The interpretation of Mary as passive, humble, submissive and obedient also overlooks the feisty nature of Mary’s interchange with Gabriel, as we have traced it. And this feisty nature, with its prophetic focus and clarity, is made clear just a few verses later, as Mary sings in praise of God (1:39-45). In this song, she makes it clear that she is up for the task, that she has the vision of what God is doing in Jesus, that she is fully subscribed to working for the righteous-justice of God in the lives of her people!
The many scriptural resonances, both in that song (known as the Magnificat) and in the scene of the Annunciation, indicate that Mary is to be understand within the stream of prophetic figures in Hebrew Scripture. She was a force to be reckoned with!
The scene of the Annunciation closes with the brief note, “the angel departed from her” (1:38). The angel had left; but the consequences of this announcement would stay with Mary, through the coming months of her pregnancy and the birth of the child; and through the coming years, of his growth through childhood, his adulthood, and the tragic events of betrayal, trial, crucifixion and death.
Mary knew, from the start, of the significance of this child (at least as Luke tells in his orderly account). And what did Mary know, of the stories that were later told, that he proclaimed the kingdom, healed the sick, cast out demons, and had even been raised from the dead? And how did she speak of him, then?
For this coming Sunday, the Narrative Lectionary is offering a very familiar passage from Third Isaiah, that part of the long book of Isaiah that is usually dated to a time when the exiles were returning from Babylon and re-establishing life in Jerusalem and the surrounding area. The passage (Isa 61:1–11) is best known within Christianity as providing the key elements for the manifesto that Jesus—at least in Luke’s Gospel—sets out to follow.
Luke reports that Jesus quotes the opening verse of this oracle when he attends the synagogue in his hometown of Nazareth and was invited to read from the scroll of Isaiah (Luke 4:16–20). Most famously, Luke places the opening verse of the prophet on the lips of Jesus, and the first line of verse 2—but then stops short of quoting what follows, regarding “the day of vengeance of our God” and the mourning that will be associated with the mixed emotions of returning to a devastated city and engaging in the rebuilding programme: “they shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations” (Isa 61:4).
The passage offered by the lectionary needs to be seen, primarily, within the context in which it was first spoken. The third section of the book of Isaiah (chapters 56–66) has begun with a familiar prophetic announcement: “maintain justice, and do what is right, for soon my salvation will come, and my deliverance be revealed” (Isa 56:1). As the people of Judah were returning to their land, to the city of Jerusalem (from the 520s BCE), the book sets out what this justice will look like through a series of powerful oracles.
The prophet sounds a vivid counter-cultural note in the midst of the events of his time. He begins with the promise to foreigners and eunuchs that “I will give, in my house and within my walls, a monument and a name better than sons and daughters; I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off” (Isa 56:5). This is a striking contrast to the narrative provided in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, which tell of the return to the city, the rebuilding of the walls, the renewal of the covenant and the public reading of the Law, the rededication of the Temple—and actions designed to remove foreigners (especially women) from within Israel (see Ezra 10; Neh 13).
Ezra and Nehemiah exhibited a zealous fervour to restore the Law to its central place in the life of Israel. Ezra, learning that “the holy seed has mixed itself with the peoples of the lands” (Ezra 9:2), worked with “the elders and judges of every town” to determine who had married foreign women; the men identified “pledged themselves to send away their wives, and their guilt offering was a ram of the flock for their guilt” (Ezra 10:19). (So much for the importance of families!)
Nehemiah considered that this project to “cleanse [the people] from everything foreign” (Neh 13:30) was in adherence to the command that “no Ammonite or Moabite should ever enter the assembly of God, because they did not meet the Israelites with bread and water, but hired Balaam against them to curse them” (Neh 13:1–2; see Num 22—24). The restoration of Israel as a holy nation meant that foreigners would be barred from the nation.
The oracle at the start of the third section of Isaiah stands in direct opposition to this point of view; “the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord … and hold fast my covenant—these I will bring to my holy mountain, and make them joyful in my house of prayer; their burnt offerings and their sacrifices will be accepted on my altar; for my house shall be called a house of prayer for all peoples” (Isa 56:6–7).
Jesus, of course, quoted this last phrase in the action he undertook in the outer court of the Temple (Mark 11:17). Later, the welcome offered to the Ethiopian court official by Philip, who talked with him about scripture and baptised him, a eunuch (Acts 8:26–38), is consistent with the prophetic words, “to the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths, who choose the things that please me and hold fast my covenant, I will give them an everlasting name that shall not be cut off” (Isa 56:4–5). (From the earliest days, the church practised an inclusive welcoming of diversity that was consistent with this prophetic declaration.)
Other words in this last section of Isaiah also resonate strongly with texts in the New Testament. The ingathering of the outcasts (56:8) and the flocking of all the nations to Zion (60:1–18) together are reflected in the prediction of Jesus that “this good news of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the world, as a testimony to all the nations; and then the end will come” (Matt 24:14).
The statement that those coming from Sheba “shall bring gold and frankincense, and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord” (60:6) most likely informed the story that Matthew created, concerning the wise ones from the east who came to see the infant Jesus and “offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh” (Matt 2:11).
Further oracles set out exactly what the justice that God desires (56:1; 61:8) looks like. The extensive worship of idols (57:1–13) will bring God’s wrath on the people; “there is no peace, says my God, for the wicked” (57:13). Rather, “the high and lofty one who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy” chooses “to revive the spirit of the humble and to revive the heart of the contrite” (57:15).
Because God indicates that “I will not continually accuse, nor will I always be angry” (57:16), the prophet conveys what the Lord sees as the fast that is required; not a fast when “you serve your own interest on your fast day, and oppress all your workers” (58:3), but rather, a fast “to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke … to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin” (58:6–7). These words resonate with the actions of “the righteous” in the well-known parable of Jesus, as they gave food, water, a welcome, clothing, and care to those sick or imprisoned (Matt 25:31–46).
The prophet laments that “there is no justice … justice is far from us … we wait for justice, but there is none … justice is turned back … the Lord saw it, and it displeased him” (59:8–15); he declares that, as a consequence, God “put on righteousness like a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head; he put on garments of vengeance for clothing, and wrapped himself in fury as in a mantle” (59:17)—a description that underlines the later exhortations to the followers of Jesus to “put on the whole armour of God, so that you may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil” (Eph 6:10–17).
Because the Lord “loves justice” (61:8), the prophet has been anointed “to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour, and the day of vengeance of our God” (61:1–2)—words which are appropriated by Jesus when he visits his hometown and reads from the scroll of Isaiah (Luke 4:18–19); “today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing”, Jesus declares (Luke 4:21).
Adhering to this way of justice, practising the fast that the Lord desires, means that he will give Israel a new name: “you shall no more be termed Forsaken, and your land shall no more be termed Desolate; but you shall be called My Delight Is in Her, and your land Married; for the Lord delights in you, and your land shall be married” (Isa 62:4). We have already seen the symbolic significance of names in considering the prophet Hosea and in Isaiah 8.
By contrast, vengeance will be the experience of Edom; using the image of trampling down the grapes in the wine press, the prophet reports the intention of God: “I trampled down peoples in my anger, I crushed them in my wrath, and I poured out their lifeblood on the earth” (63:1–6). So vigorously does God undertake this task, that he is attired in “garments stained crimson” because “their juice spattered on my garments and stained all my robes” (63:1–3). Once again, the prophet speaks in graphic terms.
Confronted with this display of wrath and vengeance, the prophet adopts an attitude of penitence, yearning for God to “look down from heaven and see, from your holy and glorious habitation” (63:15). His plea for the Lord to “tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence—to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence!” (64:1–2) must surely have been in the mind of the evangelists as the reported the baptism of Jesus, when he “saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him” (Mark 1:10).
The book ends with a sequence in which the prophet reports the words of the Lord which indicate that Israel will be restored (65:1–16), followed by the statement that the Lord is “about to create new heavens and a new earth” (65:17–25; 66:22–23).
This vision is taken up and expanded in the closing chapters of the final book of the New Testament (Rev 21:1–22:7). The closing vision of Trito-Isaiah incorporates a number of references to earlier prophetic words: building houses and planting vineyards (65:21) recalls the words of Jeremiah (Jer 29:5–7); the image of wolves lying with lambs and lions “eating straw like the ox” recalls the vision of Isaiah (Isa 11:6–7).
The promise that “they shall not hurt or destroy all on my holy mountain” (65:25) recalls that same vision of Isaiah (Isa 11:9), whilst the next promise about not labouring in vain nor bearing children for calamity (65:23) reverses the curse of Gen 3:16–19. The story of creation from the beginning of Genesis is evoked when the Lord asserts that “heaven is my throne and the earth is my footstool … all these things my hand has made” (66:1–2); these are the words which Stephen will quote back to the council in Jerusalem (Acts 7:48–50) and will lead to his death at their hands.
Even to the very end of this book, the judgement of the Lord is evident; the prophet declares that “the Lord will come in fire, and his chariots like the whirlwind, to pay back his anger in fury, and his rebuke in flames of fire; for by fire will the Lord execute judgment, and by his sword, on all flesh; and those slain by the Lord shall be many” (66:15–16).
Nevertheless, the glory of the Lord shall be declared “among the nations” (66:19) and “they shall bring all your kindred from all the nations as an offering to the Lord” (66:20). The universalising inclusivism that was sounded at the start of this prophet’s work is maintained through into this closing oracle. In “the new heavens and the new earth which I will make … all flesh shall come to worship before me, says the Lord” (66:22–23). The vision lives strong!
This coming Sunday, the lectionary offers two choices for the First Reading. One option, following on from the First Reading last Sunday (from Jeremiah 33) is the last chapter in the book of Baruch, a short book bearing the name of the Baruch who served as a scribe to Jeremiah. The book is included in the canon in Roman Catholic and Orthodox churches, but not in Reformed churches—and also not in Judaism.
The passage (Bar 5:1–9) invites the exiles from Jerusalem to “put off the garment of your sorrow and affliction … and put on forever the beauty of the glory from God” (Bar 5:1), to celebrate that “God will lead Israel with joy, in the light of his glory, with the mercy and righteousness that come from him” (Bar 5:9). It’s a joyful song that is quite appropriate for the season of Advent, as we prepare for the joyous celebrations—both sacred and secular—of the Christmas season.
The alternative offering comes from the book of the prophet Malachi (3:1–4). The passage is obviously proposed because of correlates with the Gospel passage, in which John the Baptist declares that he comes to prepare for the coming of Jesus. “See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me”, Malachi quotes the Lord as saying. “He is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver”, Malachi declaims, providing a description that correlates well with the fiery declarations made by John.
Malachi was active after the Babylonian Exile; the city and temple had been fully restored and worship was now active in the temple. In this context, Malachi called the people to repentance, starting with the priests, whom he attacks for their corruption (1:6–2:9); “the lips of a priest should guard knowledge, and people should seek instruction from his mouth, for he is the messenger of the Lord of hosts; but you have turned aside from the way; you have caused many to stumble by your instruction; you have corrupted the covenant of Levi, says the Lord of hosts” (2:8–9).
He then turns to the religious profanity of the people; “Judah has been faithless, and abomination has been committed in Israel and in Jerusalem; for Judah has profaned the sanctuary of the Lord, which he loves, and has married the daughter of a foreign god” (2:11), and instructs them to “take heed to yourselves and do not be faithless” (2:16). God threatens punishment in graphic terms: “I will rebuke your offspring, and spread dung on your faces, the dung of your offerings, and I will put you out of my presence” (2:3).
In the passage that is proposed for this coming Sunday, Malachi then looks to the coming of a messenger from God (3:1) who will bring judgment “like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness” (3:2–3).
He then identifies a range of ways by which social inequities are practised; God threatens, “I will be swift to bear witness against the sorcerers, against the adulterers, against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien, and do not fear me, says the Lord of hosts” (3:5). He notes that people regularly shortchange the Lord with incomplete tithes (3:8–15); rectifying this will result in blessings from God (3:10–12).
The fierce imagery continues with a description of “the day [which] is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch” (4:1). The motif of “the day” has run through the prophets, from before the exile (Amos 5:18–20; Isa 2:12, 17; 13:6–8; 34:8; Zeph 1:7, 14–15), during the years of exile (Jer 35:32–33; 46:10), and on into the years after the return from exile (Joel 2:1–3, 30–31).
What is required of the people is clear: “remember the teaching of my servant Moses, the statutes and ordinances that I commanded him at Horeb for all Israel” (4:4). Adherence to the covenant undergirds the claims of this prophet, as indeed it does with each prophet in Israel.
This short book ends with a memorable prophecy from Malachi: “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of parents to their children and the hearts of children to their parents, so that I will not come and strike the land with a curse.” (4:5–6). These words are explicitly picked up in the Gospel portrayals of John the Baptist as the returning Elijah (Matt 17:9–13; Luke 1:17), turning the hearts of people so that they might receive the promise offers by Jesus.
Whether Malachi himself understood these words to point to John and Jesus, of course, is somewhat dubious. But in the context of our Gospel passage for Advent 2, this passage is a timely offering—of a different nature from the Baruch passage, but relevant, nevertheless.
One of the passages offered by the lectionary for this Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent (Luke 1:68–79), comprises the text of a psalm-like song that is often called The Benedictus, after the opening phrase of the song in the Latin translation. The whole song resonates in every line with words, ideas, concepts from the Hebrew Scriptures. I’ve been considering that in earlier posts on this passage.
Luke, as we know, was writing many decades after the events he reports; he certainly wasn’t present at the time John was born, and it is most unlikely that any of the people he refers to as his sources (Luke 1:2) were witnesses to this. Rather, it is sensible for us to consider that he wrote this song, drawing extensively from the Hebrew Scriptures, and placed it in the mouth of Zechariah at what was an appropriate moment in the story that he was telling. (The story as a whole isn’t history; it is Luke’s way of introducing the figure of Jesus by placing him firmly in his historical context, as a Jew of the late Second Temple period.)
In my previous post, I have considered how God is described, and prayed to, in this song, drawing on various scriptural passages. Another way that Luke evokes scripture is when he has Zechariah sings that God “has remembered his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham” (Luke 1:72–73). The phrase explicitly evokes comment in the ancestral narrative, when Moses fled to Midian, that “God remembered his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob” (Exod 2:24), repeated in words on the lips of the Lord to Moses, “I have heard the groaning of the Israelites whom the Egyptians are holding as slaves, and I have remembered my covenant” (Exod 6:5).
The phrase recurs in the psalm that recalls the sins committed by the people of Israel during their time in the wilderness, when “he regarded their distress when he heard their cry”, and so “for their sake he remembered his covenant, and showed compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love” (Ps 106:44–45). Reflecting on the sins of the people of a later generation, the prophet Ezekiel reports that the Lord God will nevertheless “remember my covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish with you an everlasting covenant” (Ezek 16:60). This idea lies behind the promise offered at the same time by the prophet Jeremiah, that the Lord God “will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more”, and so “will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah” (Jer 31:31–34). Remembering and recommitting to the covenant is embedded in the scriptures.
Zechariah refers to two key characters from Israel’s ancestral stories: Abraham, in referring to “the oath that [the Lord God] swore to our ancestor Abraham” in making the covenant (v.73), and David, in referring to the “mighty saviour” that God has raised up “for us in the house of his servant David” (v.68). These are, of course, two key figures in the story of Israel, to whom much attention is given in the ancestral narratives (Abraham in Gen 12—25; David in 1 Sam 16—1 Ki 2).
Although the song is sung immediately after the birth of the son of Elizabeth and Zechariah (Luke 1:57), to be named John (1:59–63), the father celebrates the birth of his son largely, as we have seen, by celebrating the mighty deeds of God. He does note that this child “will be called the prophet of the Most High” and that he “will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins” (1:76–77). This is indeed how John is portrayed when, as an adult, he becomes active around the Jordan in calling people to repentance (Mark 1:2–8; Matt 3:1–12; Luke 3:1–18).
The one who “prepares the way” reflects the prophetic word of Malachi, who declares “I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple” (Mal 3:1). The fiery nature of this messenger’s language (Mal 3:2–3) is clearly reflected in John’s message of judgement (Luke 3:7–9, 16–17). That he proclaims “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins” (Luke 3:3) guides Luke to give to his father words (1:77) that point forward to this very message.
The song ends with some observations about the response of people to what God has been and is doing. Zechariah anticipates that those who learn of this might “serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days” (vv.74–75). All three characteristics of this response are, of course, fundamental elements in the piety of ancient Israelites and Jews of the Second Temple period. “You shall fear the Lord your God” is a priestly refrain (Lev 19:14, 32; 25:17, 36, 43) recurring in the words Gos speaks in Deuteronomy (Deut 4:10; 5:29; 6:1, 13, 24; 10:12, 20; 13:4; 14:23; 17:19; 31:12–13) as well as in subsequent narrative books.
Holiness amongst the people is also advocated by the priests, on the basis that God is holy. “I am the Lord your God; sanctify yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am holy … I am the Lord who brought you up from the land of Egypt, to be your God; you shall be holy, for I am holy” (Lev 11:44–45; see also 19:2; 20:7, 26). And righteousness is declared by various prophets as who the Lord God requires of God’s people (Isa 5:7: 11:4–5; 32:16–17; 52:1, 7; Jer 22:3; 23:5; Hos 10:12; Amos 5:24; Zeph 2:3).
Finally, the closing verses of this song contain evocative imagery which draws from poems in Hebrew Scripture. “The dawn from on high will break upon us” (v.78) resonates with Third Isaiah’s words that “your light shall break forth like the dawn and your healing shall spring up quickly” (Isa 58:8). That dawn will “give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death” (v.79) references the numerous places where light breaks into darkness (Ps 18:12; Isa 9:2; 42:16; 58:10; Mic 7:8; and see the same dynamic in the creation account at Gen 1:1–5). The phrase “the shadow of death” (v.79) alludes to “the valley of the shadow of death” in Ps 23:4.
Then, the final affirmation that this breaking dawn will “guide our feet into the way of peace” (v.79) refers to Third Isaiah again, in his lament that “the way of peace”, missing in his time, will surely come. This oracle, in fact, splices together the same ending notes that we find in Zechariah’s song: “the way of peace they do not know, and there is no justice in their paths; their roads they have made crooked; no one who walks in them knows peace. Therefore justice is far from us, and righteousness does not reach us; we wait for light, and lo! there is darkness; and for brightness, but we walk in gloom” (Isa 59:8–9).
Indeed, in the following oracle the prophet declares: “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.” (Isa 60:1–3). Or, as Zechariah sings, “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:78–79).
One of the passages offered by the lectionary for this Sunday, the second Sunday in Advent, is a well-known and familiar passage, and although it is proposed as “the Psalm” for this Sunday, it is found in the New Testament—in the long first chapter of this Gospel, which leads into the Christmas story. The passage offered (Luke 1:68–79) comprises the text of a psalm-like song that is often called The Benedictus, after the opening phrase of the song in the Latin translation.
The whole song resonates in every line with words, ideas, concepts from the Hebrew Scriptures. Luke, of course, was writing many decades after the events he reports; he certainly wasn’t present at the time John was born, and it is most unlikely that any of the people he refers to as his sources (Luke 1:2) were witnesses to this. Rather, it is sensible for us to consider that this song was placed in the mouth of Zechariah, drawing extensively from the Hebrew Scriptures.
The blessing which opens the song (v.68) has the standard form of blessings found in prayers by Jews in antiquity, through until today; they begin with a phrase of blessing: “Blessed are you, O Lord our God …”. Blessed are You, O Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth is prayed before a meal. Blessed are You, o Lord our God, Ruler of the universe, who creates the fruit of the vine is prayed before drinking wine. Zechariah begins in this pattern, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel”, before proceeding to indicate how God has been at work.
Another key scriptural element in his song comes when Zechariah refers to God as “Most High” (v.76). This way of describing God is found in a prayer of Abraham (Gen 14:22), where he seems to have adopted it from King Melchizedek of Salem, who is introduced as “priest of God Most High” (Gen 14:18–20). It is repeated by Balaam in his oracle (Num 24:15–16), once in the lengthy Song of Moses (Deut 32:8), and once in the lengthy Song attributed to David at the end of his life (2 Sam 22:14).
Prophets who used this phrase included Isaiah, once (Isa 14:14), Hosea, once (Hos 11:7), the author of Lamentations (Lam 3:35, 38), and Daniel (Dan 4:24–25; 5:17, 21; 7:18, 21, 25–27), who appears to have picked up this phrase from King Nebuchadnezzar (Dan 3:26; 4:2, 17, 34). The phrase is most common in the psalms, where it appears 23 times (for instance, Ps 7:17; 9:2; 21:7; 46:4; 47:2; 50:14; 57:2; 91:1, 9; 97:9; 106:7; 107:11). The same appellation then appears in eight other places in the New Testament (Mark 5:7; Luke 1:32, 35; 6:35; 8:28; Acts 7:48; 16:17; and Heb 7:1, referring back to King Melchizedek).
The focus of this song, as is the case also in the song sung earlier by Mary, as well as in each of the missionary speeches reported in Acts 2–17, is on “what God has done”, a theme of significance throughout Luke and Acts—as I have argued in my PhD thesis, The plan of God in Luke—Acts (1993), and in my commentary on Acts in the Eerdman’sCommentary on the Bible (2003).
Three times in this song Zechariah mentions the redemptive power of God, who “has looked favorably on his people and redeemed them” (v.68), “saved [the people] from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us” (v.71), and “rescued [them] from the hands of our enemies” (v.74). Calling God “Redeemer” is typical of Second Isaiah (Isa 41:14; 43:14; 44:6, 24; 47:4; 48:1, 17; 49:7, 26; 54:5, 8) and continues in Third Isaiah (Isa 59:20; 60:16; 63:16). It is also found in other books (Job 19:1, 25; Ps 19:14; 78:35; Jer 50:34).
God is identified as Saviour (2 Sam 22:3; Ps 17:7; 106:21; Isa 43:3, 11; 45:15, 21; 49:26; 60:16; 73:8; Hos 13:4) and praised as one who saves (1 Sam 10:19; 14:39; Ps 34:18; 37:40) and also rescues (Ps 34:17, 19; 37:40; 97:10; Amos 3:12). The language on the lips of Zechariah is thoroughly scriptural.
Alongside this, there are two references in this song to the mercy of God, as Zechariah sings of “the tender mercy of our God” (v.78) and rejoiced that God “has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors” (v.72). In the ancestral narratives of Israel, mercy is noted as a quality of God by Jacob (Gen 43:14), David (2 Sam 24:14; 1 Chron 21:13), and Nehemiah (Neh 1:11). Of course, involved in the ritual of worship in the Tabernacle and then in the Temple is the sprinkling of sacrificial blood on the “mercy seat” in the holy place (Lev 16:2, 12–14); the seeking of mercy from the Lord was at the heart of the annual Day of Atonement ritual.
Even as they call the people to account for their sins, prophets occasionally proclaim the mercy of God (Isa 30:18; 55:7; 60:10; 63:7; Jer 31:20; 33:26; 42:12; Ezek 39:25; Dan 9:9; Hos 2:19; 14:3). Daniel instructs his companions, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, “to seek mercy from the God of heaven” (Dan 2:18) while in Zechariah’s first vision the angel pleads with the Lord for mercy (Zech 1:12).
Many times in the psalms there are prayers seeking God’s mercy: “be mindful of your mercy, O Lord” (Ps 25:6); “do not, O Lord, withhold your mercy from me” (Ps 40:11); “let your mercy come to me, that I may live” (Ps 119:77); and most famously, in the prayer attributed to David after he had committed adultery and murder, “have mercy on me, O God, according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions” (Ps 51:1). In the fifth Song of Ascents, the psalmist pleads, “have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us, for we have had more than enough of contempt” (Ps 123:3).
Then, when Luke has Zechariah describe this mercy as a “tender mercy”, it may well be that the words of Hosea are in mind: “how can I give you up, Ephraim? how can I hand you over, O Israel? … my heart recoils within me; my compassion grows warm and tender. I will not execute my fierce anger; I will not again destroy Ephraim” (Hos 11:8–9). It is a touching moment in the prophet’s words; and a nice touch in the song that Luke places in the mouth of Zechariah.
An Informed Faith 