Second Sunday after Epiphany
January 15, 2023
William G. Carter
Listen to me, O coastlands, pay attention, you peoples from far away! The Lord called me before I was born, while I was in my mother’s womb he named me. He made my mouth like a sharp sword, in the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me a polished arrow, in his quiver he hid me away. And he said to me, “You are my servant, Israel, in whom I will be glorified.” But I said, “I have labored in vain, I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity; yet surely my cause is with the Lord, and my reward with my God.” And now the Lord says, who formed me in the womb to be his servant, to bring Jacob back to him, and that Israel might be gathered to him, for I am honored in the sight of the Lord, and my God has become my strength— he says, “It is too light a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” Thus says the Lord, the Redeemer of Israel and his Holy One, to one deeply despised, abhorred by the nations, the slave of rulers, “Kings shall see and stand up, princes, and they shall prostrate themselves, because of the Lord, who is faithful, the Holy One of Israel, who has chosen you.”
The last time we were together, we heard God introduce his servant. It was an open-ended introduction. The servant could be an individual or a group. It might be Israel, the Messiah, the church, or somebody else. The identity is slippery, yet the characteristics are clear. God’s Servant will be known by compassion, persistence, and the working of justice, all the time refusing to call attention to himself or herself.
Today we hear another poem about the Servant of God. The Servant is claimed and called - and works with words. Surely there are good deeds, further acts of compassion. But they are joined by syllables of truth that announce, describe, and enunciate. It’s one thing to act in love for others. It’s another to say why. The Servant said, “He made my mouth like a sharp sword.”
This is a description picked up by the Christians. The sword divides truth from error, separates honesty from spin. An early Christian sermon declared, “The word of God is living and active, sharped than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”[1]
And in one graphic description, the prophet of the Book of Revelation hears a Voice on a rocky island in the Aegean Sea. He turns to see a figure with a sharp sword coming out of his mouth. That’s how he knows he is hearing Jesus Christ, risen from the dead. And the Voice says, “Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last and the Living One.”[2]
God works through words. Naturally, the Servant of God will work with words. Sharp words, healing words, fearless words. And this still happens.
I am a well-conditioned church goer. When I have a Sunday off, I find somewhere to worship. One summer Sunday, I took my seat in an assembly. The music began, the prayers were offered, and the preacher stood to speak. She had a pleasant face with tresses of silver bouncing off her shoulders. I settled in for an enjoyable eighteen minutes. By three minutes in, she had blown all the hair off my head. Through careful words and apt metaphors, she began to remove the tumors from my soul. I did not expect that – I mean, it’s church, right? Yet the truth she imparted came right at me and did its work with surgical precision. And here’s the thing: she never once raised her voice. She simply told the truth – about me, about the world, and about God. That Servant of God spoke with a sword.
This is how the prophetic voice sounds. God raises up these Servants to say what most of us have resisted hearing. They speak what everybody needs to hear but nobody wants to hear. The Message might not be new, yet it is the message God wants to have spoken.
Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. stood at the Lincoln Memorial when I was three and a half years old. Looking out upon a sea of souls, he reminded the crowd of words composed one-hundred-eighty-seven years before, that our nation was conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the promise that all people would be “guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.” He reminded the American people of what they already knew.
And just a few minutes later, he said these words:
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight,
and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.[3]
Sound familiar? Right out of the prophet Isaiah! Old words brought to a new day. Ancient poetry recited with the clarity of a verbal sword. And the trajectory of those words was to lift up all the people, to welcome them back to what they have lost, to restore them to the fullest possible expression of the grace of God.
The poem that we heard today comes from the same body of speech. In this section of the prophet’s writings, the people are promised a return from years of exile. God has cancelled all that separates them from his embrace. The term has been served. Any penalty has been paid. They have received more than enough for all their sins (40:1-2). It’s time to come home. It’s time to step into a new day – which is the same day they’ve been promised all along. Now it’s time to step into God’s future for them.
And today, the prophet expands his vision to align with the greater vision of God. The promise of a new day of healing is given to Israel – and it’s also to those beyond Israel. It’s a “light to the nations,” that is, to those who are not Jews. It is an initiative taken “to the ends of the earth.”
What exactly is this “light” given through the Jewish people to the ends of the earth? The Hebrew word is “yeshua” – which means “salvation.” Yeshua is also the Hebrew name of Jesus, but let’s not get six hundred years ahead of ourselves. “Yeshua” refers to many interlocking gifts of God. It signifies rescue from the hand of evil. Victory over potential destruction. Well-being, rather than diminishment. And perhaps my favorite, a salvage operation from the scrap yard of history – salvation is a salvage operation. All this stands under the canopy of that tremendous word “yeshua” or salvation.
The point of it all is that God is not giving up on anybody or anything. God is coming to rescue, restore, rehabilitate, and redeem as many of us as possible. The promise comes to the Jews – and through the Jews. This is God’s mission for them, for us, for all. It comes as light into a world accustomed to way too much darkness.
My friend Tom tells about a night when he was a teenager. He was hanging around with his friends, traipsing around the neighborhood. It was a warm night and very dark. Suddenly one of them saw a police car and shouted. They hadn’t done anything wrong, although that might have been on the evening’s agenda, but they didn’t want to be seen, either. So they began to run, which is exactly what caught the officers’ eye.
The boys ran down the street and turned down an alley. One of them tripped, causing two others to trip, and another smashed into a series of garbage cans. This really got the police officers’ attention. One turned on a search light. Tom turned to look for his friends but all of them had disappeared. All he could see was that burning, searing searchlight looking for him.
Frantic, Tom jumped behind the trashcans, only to discover his friends huddled there. With nervous energy, they all tried to hide, pulling trash over their heads, and hoping to blend in. They’re teenagers, not thinking clearly. The spotlight fell on Tom. “Come out where we can see you,” said the voice behind the light. Tom stood up where he was, smudge on his cheek, banana peel on his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” said the voice. Tom stammered, “Nothing.”
The voice said, “I can’t hear you. What are you doing?” Tom said, “Officer, I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I saw the light, I ran, I knocked over the garbage cans, I’m sorry about the disturbance.” That searchlight was burning his eyes, blinding him. He stood in the light with nowhere to hide.
The voice said, “I think I know your parents. Don’t they live around the corner?” He stammered, “Yes,” his heart racing. He said to himself, “My life is ruined. He’s going to tell my parents.”
Then the voice behind the light said, “Son, I’m not here to punish you. I’m here to protect you.” It was a moment of sheer grace. He caught a glimpse of what it means to stand before the Light of the World. He stood fully exposed yet completely protected. He was revealed yet free. He stood hip-deep in garbage, yet felt cleaner than ever, somehow cleansed by a light so bright that it did not cast a shadow. Rather than descend into punishment, deserved or undeserved, he was illumined and ultimately saved. Yeshua. Salvation.
It's a small glimpse of God’s mission to the world. Light breaks into the darkness. Shadows are chased away. Valleys lifted up, roads straightened, and a Voice speaking words that ultimately set us free. All of us. Every last one of us. And everybody else too.
This is the work of the Servant of God: to announce the saving, restoring work of God, and then to do what they can to make the work available for all. God says, “It is too little a thing to keep the light for yourselves; I give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”
(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.
[1] Hebrews 4:12, NRSV
[2] Revelation 1:12-18, NRSV
[3] Martin Luther King, Jr. “I Have a
Dream,” Transcript at https://www.npr.org/2010/01/18/122701268/i-have-a-dream-speech-in-its-entirety
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