Lectionary Commentaries for December 25, 2024
Christmas Day (III)

The first three words of John 1:1 can be literally translated “In a beginning” and are reminiscent of the Priestly creation story in Genesis 1, which begins with the same three words. Did both writers understand the beginning about which they wrote as one among many other origin stories? In the Greek all the verbs in John 1:1–4 are verbs of being and coming into existence that require a nominative subject and a predicate object; grammatically speaking, the subject noun and predicate noun are equal, but the equality is situated in the past tense. The two primary subjects in John 1:13 are logos, which can be translated “word,” “matter,” “thing,” or “speech.”

God creates by speaking, with speech, in Genesis in the Hebrew Bible/Old Testament. Human language is a medium for thinking about and communicating ideas about God (Genesis 1; John 1:10). But any one human language, be it ancient Greek or Hebrew or modern languages like English, Spanish, or French, should not be used to contain or restrict God, but to expand our theological constructs. Certainly, no one language should be sanctioned as the only sacred or authentic language that absolutely represents who God is and who we are in relation to God or each other.

The relationship between the logos/word/speech/utterance and God is complex. In John’s Gospel, the Greek logos/word or speech was and becomes the closest thing to God, if not God. The word was “with God”—accompanied, partnered with, attached to, or was in the presence of God. And it also becomes something disparate from God. The logos becomes flesh (human) and resides, or pitches his mobile tent (eskēnōsen), among his fellow humans.

At John 1:17 we learn that his name is Jesus, an anointed one or Messiah, about whom John the Baptist will testify as the true light (1:6–10). The identification transitions from grammatically masculine (logos) to a biological man (“he”), who is “the father’s only son” (1:14). He alone has seen God (1:18). The complex relationship, which is binary and fluid, between God and the logos is characterized by (a) distinction: the word was with God/word becomes flesh/only son of God/has seen God; (b) synchronicity: word was God (see also 10:30; 17:11); and (c) hierarchy: father and son (see also 14:1, 16, 28; 15:1; 21:19).

The prologue introduces readers to other complex relationships and binaries (sometimes disrupted) in the Gospel: (a) the world and the children of God (1:10, 12), yet as the Lamb of God, Jesus will remove the world’s sin, and God loved (ēgapēsen) the world (1:10, 12, 29; 3:16; see also 20:1; 21:15–19); (b) he came to his own and his own rejected him (1:11); (c) the will of man (andros) and the will of God (1:13); and (d) light and darkness (1:5, 8).

Darkness is vilified in John: Translations of John 1:5 give the impression that the relationship between darkness and light is hostile, as if the darkness did not welcome the light or attempted to conquer or subjugate it (see also 8:12; 12:35, 46). But in the Priestly creation narrative, the darkness and dark waters existed with God before anything else (Genesis 1:1–2:4a). If God exists before all things and is derivative of nothing, then God created darkness.

In John, we read, “The light came into the world and the humans [hoi anthrōpoi] loved [ēgapēsan] the darkness [to skotos] rather than the light because their acts were evil” (3:19, my translation). Notice that the same Greek word is used for the humans’ love for darkness and God’s love of the world (3:16, 19); God’s love cannot be fully expressed by human language and is certainly not restricted to one word in a particular language—in other words, ancient Koine Greek.

Since the Gospel of John does not disrupt the binary between light and darkness, I encourage readers to do so. At creation, it is into the substance of darkness that God speaks, painting with God’s words a world, a sun, a moon, manifold stars, diverse inanimate life forms, living creatures, and human beings. Can we imagine a world where darkness is not vilified and where darkness and light co-exist?

White supremacy constructed blackness as a race and then vilified blackness as the antithesis of whiteness. The African American singer, musician, and New Orleans native Jon Baptiste sings, “The light shines brightest in the darkness.” Darkness welcomes the light. The stars light up the night sky, allowing us to see the beauty of darkness and light on the same heavenly canvas.

In the darkness of night, humans generally find or seek rest. Darkness can symbolize rest and rejuvenation. Many nocturnal animals need the night to avoid predators, to mate, and to hunt. Paul Bogard, author of The End of Night, warns us about light pollution in his TEDx Talk “Why We Need Darkness.”

Bogard states that the glare, light trespass (lights from one building shining into another), and skyglow create waste that shoots into the sky as pollution. We need darkness for our bodies to maintain health; too much light interrupts our circadian rhythms, contributes to sleep disorders and disease, and impedes the production of melatonin, which increases chances of developing certain cancers. We need darkness for our souls and spirituality and for inspiration in creativity. More light does not make us safer.^[1]

Early on the first day of the week, in the dark (skotias), Mary Magdalene arrived at the empty tomb; in the darkness she could see that the stone covering the tomb had been moved away (John 20:1). In the darkness she witnessed the empty tomb and ran to tell Simon Peter, whom Jesus loved (ephilei; 20:2). While it was still dark—in the darkness—Mary would see the two angels dressed in white, and she would see and speak with the risen Jesus (20:1–18). How shall we, as inheritors of this sacred text, testify about darkness as God created it?

Notes

1. Paul Bogard, “Why We Need Darkness” (TEDx Talk), EarthSky, October 29, 2020, https://earthsky.org/astronomy-essentials/paul-bogard-on-why-we-need-darkness/.

Isaiah 52:7–10 marks the climax of Isaiah 40–55 (frequently designated “Second Isaiah”). Decades after Babylon invaded Judah in 587 BCE, the poet-prophet offers comfort to exiled Judeans and personified Jerusalem, who believe God has abandoned them (Isaiah 40:27; 49:14). Anticipation for divine action reaches a fever pitch in these verses.

This text demonstrates the promise and peril of hopeful preaching. On the verge of losing faith, disillusioned audiences desperately need reassurance, but there’s a danger of creating unrealistic expectations that only compound hopelessness. The other Old Testament reading for Christmas Day, Isaiah 62:2–12 (see Nativity, Proper II), makes similar promises with nearly identical language to 52:7–10. Likely written a century later, it responds to disappointment over the limited fulfillment of Isaiah 52’s grand pronouncements.

Christian hope is always “already but not yet.” J. J. M. Roberts helpfully compares prophecy to a parent’s encouraging response of “Almost!” to a child’s persistent question of “Are we there yet?”¹ That tension is built into this juncture of the church calendar. Advent and Christmas, respectively, anticipate Christ’s future coming and celebrate Christ’s past coming. In the long in-between time, we live paradoxically with urgency and patience.

Although much more could be said about these verses, I focus here on three poetic images: beautiful feet (verse 7), singing walls (verse 9), and God’s bared arm (verse 10).

Beautiful feet

Verse 7 opens unexpectedly: “How beautiful … are the feet …” We don’t usually think of feet as attractive. They’re smelly and sweaty. Signs reading “No shirt, no shoes, no service” suggest they’re something to cover up. What makes feet, of all things, “beautiful”?

These feet, it turns out, belong to a “messenger.” They’re an example of metonymy, a poetic device in which part of something stands in for the whole. By focusing on their feet, the poem emphasizes the messenger’s movement. They have traveled a great distance, even traversed mountains. Their beauty comes from their message, which the poem unfolds over four lines:

who announces peace,
who brings good news,
who announces salvation,
who says to Zion, “Your God reigns.” (verse 7)

Imagine a world so bereft of hope that even the feet of someone bringing good news seem beautiful! Many of us don’t have to imagine such a world this Christmas. We find ourselves living in it.

In addition to movement, feet also connote purposeful intention. In contrast to the beautiful feet of heralds of the gospel, Proverbs 6:18 lists “feet that hurry to run to evil” as something God hates. Which description fits our feet? In a despairing and polarized society, do we rush to spread dissension or to offer hope? Are our feet beautiful?

Singing walls

From their position atop the city’s fortifications, the sentinels of Jerusalem witness the messenger’s approach (verse 8). Unexpectedly, they don’t sound an alarm. They break out in joyful song! They recognize what the messenger’s arrival portends: “the return of the LORD to Zion” (Isaiah 52:8). From the perspective of at least some biblical writers, God had abandoned Jerusalem before its conquest (compare Ezekiel 10). Now, like a victorious ruler, the deity has returned.

Despite the vividness of the imagery, both the messenger and the sentinels are imaginary. Isaiah 52:9 brings us back to reality. The city had been reduced to rubble by the Babylonians decades earlier, and its walls wouldn’t be rebuilt for another century, as described in Nehemiah. There’s nothing for sentinels to guard, no one to deliver a message to. Even as the text acknowledges this  reality, however, it imaginatively transforms it. The poet-prophet bids “you ruins of Jerusalem” to join the sentinels in loud, joyful song. By poetically bringing Jerusalem’s rubble to life, the text initiates the process of its restoration.

Across the world today, in places like Gaza and Lebanon, Sudan, and Ukraine, cities are reduced to rubble by bombs and artillery. We must acknowledge the horror of such destruction and the trauma of its survivors. We must do everything in our power to bring the violence to an end. But can we also imagine those ruins singing on this Christmas Day?

We can only believe what we can imagine. By using the power of poetry to conjure a better future, the poet-prophet of Isaiah 40–55 makes it possible for the audience to hope again.

A bared arm

The final image of the reading is God’s “bared … holy arm.” Throughout the Hebrew Bible, the divine arm represents God’s power to deliver. It’s closely associated with the exodus, the paradigmatic demonstration of divine power (for example, Exodus 6:6; Deuteronomy 5:15; Psalm 136:12; et cetera).

In the previous chapter, the poet shared a desperate plea for the “arm of the LORD” to “awake, awake, put on strength” (Isaiah 51:9). The prayer implicitly accuses God of falling asleep on the job, a recurring motif in biblical laments (Psalms 7:6; 35:23; 44:23–24). God once delivered God’s people and defeated their enemies with a mighty display of power. Why can’t God do so again? It isn’t difficult to identify with this longing for divine vindication.

Isaiah 52:10 reports the answer to this prayer. The divine arm is “bared” and poised for action, in grand fashion no less—“before the eyes of all the nations.” One almost imagines an enormous, flexed bicep on display in the heavens. Surely something amazing is about to happen!

And that’s where the text leaves us. The divine arm is poised and ready, but we don’t know what it will do. Our salvation is at hand, but we don’t know what it will look like. We are called to trust that God will bring justice to our broken world, but we must remain open to being surprised by how God will accomplish this mighty act.

Who knows? It just might involve a vulnerable infant born to impoverished refugees in an oppressed nation.

Notes

1. J. J. M. Roberts, “A Christian Perspective on Prophetic Prediction,” Interpretation 33 (1979): 249–250.

Like many psalms of praise, Psalm 98 begins with an imperative “call to praise,” followed by a “reason to praise” introduced by the Hebrew word ki, “for.”¹

Here is my translation of 98:1–3:

Sing to the Lord a new song,
for (ki) he has done wonders!
By his right hand and his holy arm
has he achieved deliverance!
The Lord has made his deliverance known,
he has revealed his righteousness before the eyes of the nations!
He has remembered loving fidelity and faithfulness to the house of Israel,
all the ends of the earth have seen the deliverance of our God!

The “wonders” and “deliverance” that Psalm 98 originally celebrated may have been a specific military victory or miracle. Or, much like our Easter or Pentecost hymns, the psalm may have been composed for an annual celebration of one of the Lord’s historic “wonders”—such as the exodus, the rescue of Jerusalem from the Assyrian army in 701 BCE, or the return from exile in the sixth century BCE.

Whatever the original purpose or ancient Israelite use of the psalm may have been, the Revised Common Lectionary that many Christian churches follow has elected to use this psalm on Christmas Day. The psalm is fitting for Christmas Day because it celebrates the long history of God’s saving actions and wonders. It is also fitting because it calls for “joy noise,” “joyous song,” and “praises” to be sung to the Lord. More on that momentarily. But first, a word about the “new song” for which the psalm calls.

A “New Song”

The psalm’s opening imperative calls for a “new song” (shir chadesh) to be sung. This “new song” for which the psalm calls is generally understood by Psalms scholars to refer to a special genre of songs—the “new song” that is to be sung after a particular experience of God’s gracious deliverance. To put it another way, the “new song” does not merely mean to compose a new psalm composition. The “new song” means to write and sing a song that has to be “new” because God has just done something new—such as a new act of deliverance, a new act of grace, a new act of forgiveness, or a new act of blessing.

There are several places where the Scriptures sing of the “new song.” But the newness of this type of song can be seen especially in two places.

First, the “new song” can be seen in Isaiah 42:10–13 [14–43:7?—it is not exactly clear where the song ends]. In this song, the anonymous prophet of the exile sings a “new song” announcing and giving thanks because the Lord was moving to restore the Judean exiles to their home: The Lord was moving “to open the eyes that are blind, to bring the prisoners out of the dungeon, from prison those who sit in darkness” (42:7).

A second place where the newness of the “new song” can be seen is at the start of Psalm 40, which is a song of thanksgiving that a person sang after experiencing personal deliverance by the Lord. Here is my translation:

I waited and waited for the Lord,
he inclined and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the desolate pit,
out of the miry swamp.
He set my feet upon a rock,
he established my steps.
He put a new song in my mouth,
a song of praise to our God.

The “new song” here is the song of thanksgiving that the psalmist came to sing after the Lord had lifted the singer “out of the desolate pit”—a metaphor for extreme danger.

In light of what the “new song” was in the Old Testament, it is appropriate for Christians to sing the old, old songs of Christmas every year, because in Jesus Christ, the new covenant, new testament, new creation, and new life of God has drawn near. As Paul wrote, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

We Sing the Faith

Therefore, the people of God don’t just tell the faith; they sing it. From Jubal in Genesis 4, to Moses and Miriam, through Zechariah, Mary, the angels at Christ’s birth, and later from Martin Luther to Charles Wesley and finally right down to us—the people of God sing the faith.

I would go so far as to say that the Christian faith must be sung. This is the case because by singing, we can at one and the same time respond to God’s active work in this world and challenge the anti-God powers and regimes that seek to wrench this world from God’s will.

When thinking about biblical songs, I especially am drawn to Eugene Peterson’s illuminating paraphrase of the start of the Magnificat: “I’m bursting with God-news, I’m dancing the song of my Savior God.”²

“I’m bursting with God-news!” The people of faith must sing because we are “bursting with God-news.” Mary sang because she was bursting with God-news. In response to what the angel and her cousin Elizabeth had told her, but also in challenge to the powers of the world—the powers of sin, death, and the devil that cling to us so closely, that crowd into grand-jury courtrooms so that justice itself is strangled in the womb and after long labor pangs, injustice is born in its place.

Throughout the church year, the words and tunes change. But the God-news that the people sing stays the same. The God-news of Advent, the God-news of Christmas, the God-news of Epiphany, Lent, Easter, and Pentecost demands that we sing. We sing because we are bursting with the God-news that in Jesus Christ, God is reconciling himself to the world, overcoming sin and all the powers of death. And we sing in resistance to the death and injustice of the world.

As one translation of the final stanza of Martin Luther’s “new song” “A Mighty Fortress” has it:

Were they to take our house,
Goods, honor, child or spouse,
Though life be wrenched away,
They cannot win the day!
The kingdom’s ours forever!³

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for December 25, 2014.
2. Eugene H. Peterson, Luke 1:46-47, The Message: The Bible in Contemporary Language (NavPress, 2002).
3. Martin Luther, “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God.” Text translation © 1978 Lutheran Book of Worship, admin. Augsburg Fortress.

The lectionary calls for reading Hebrews 1:1–14 on Christmas Day, but Epiphany or Eastertide could provide other opportunities for churchgoers to hear its message afresh. “Epiphany” refers to the manifestation of God in Christ, and Hebrews 1:1–4 proclaims that God’s persistent work of self-revelation has reached a pinnacle in Jesus. The connection to Eastertide becomes clearer when we recognize that the resurrection and exaltation of Jesus coincide in the narrative that underlies the text’s claim of superiority for Jesus: “After he had made purification for sins [through his sacrificial death], he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high” (1:3). 

Hebrews 1:6 sounds like Christmas when it sings that God “brings the firstborn into the world [oikoumenē]” and “says, ‘Let all God’s angels worship him.’” Nevertheless, the author clarifies in 2:5 that oikoumenē means the “coming world,” the eschatological realm of justice and peace that Jesus enters through resurrection and exaltation. 

Of course, reading Hebrews 1:1–14 at Christmas is also appropriate. Doing so could open our eyes to see the glory of resurrection as it shines back into the nativity stories in Luke and the prologue to John. Hebrews offers the paradox of a divine, pre-existent Jesus who became human like us and so can identify with our trials (2:18). As we sing “What Child Is This?,” we can marvel that the glorious Source and Sustainer of all creation sought to save humanity by becoming a child in need of swaddling. 

Regardless of when we read the passage, recalling what little we know about its historical context is worthwhile. An anonymous author (with a style quite different from Paul’s) composed Hebrews during the second half of the first century CE. The intended recipients had survived persecution (10:32–39; 12:4), and the author wrote “briefly” to send them “a word of encouragement” (13:22).

Read in its literary context, Hebrews 1:1–14 begins a series of comparisons that demonstrate the superiority of Jesus. In addition to being greater than earlier prophets and angels, Jesus surpasses Abraham, Moses, and the high priests descended from Aaron. The purpose of such comparisons was to encourage persecuted followers of Jesus to remain steadfast in living out the costly gift of salvation. If Jesus is the greater revelation from God, then “we must pay greater attention to what we have heard, so that we do not drift away” (2:1).

Hebrews argues that Jesus is the superior revelation of God within Judaism. Tragically, its argument has led many Christians to believe that we have superseded Jews as God’s people. Repentance by Christians from our horrific history of persecuting Jews requires a different response to Hebrews. We can heed its challenge to follow the way of Jesus by pursuing peace with everyone (12:14) and by practicing mutual love and hospitality (13:1–2). The more we live out these values with Jewish neighbors, the less we will endorse supersessionism. If we imagine ourselves superior or refuse to relinquish unjust privileges, we need the author’s warning against drifting away from our commitment to follow Jesus faithfully.

Christians can pursue peace and mutual love with neighbors of other faiths while still confessing clearly who Jesus is for us. If we take our cues from Hebrews 1:1–4, we will proclaim that Jesus has revealed the majesty, wisdom, and love of God in unique ways made possible by the incarnation. As God’s Son, Jesus is heir to all things, as well as being the Agent and Sustainer of creation from the beginning. When Romans minted coins, an image of the ruler became visible when the die (charactēr in Greek) struck a piece of gold or silver. Similarly, Jesus gives us a reliable image of God, a reflection of God’s glory (1:3). 

In Hebrews 4–10, the author will explain at length how Jesus purifies sins as both the perfect high priest and the perfect sacrifice. Hebrews 1:3 previews that argument (“when he had made purification for sins”) before declaring that Jesus now sits at God’s right hand, the position of highest authority. Finally, we hear that Jesus has inherited a more excellent name than the names of angels (1:4). This second reference to Jesus as an heir creates a frame around the praises of Jesus in 1:2–4 and leads to an extended comparison with angels.

In Hebrews 1:5–14, a chain of seven biblical quotations buttresses the claims made in 1:1–4 and proves that Jesus is superior to angels. Most of the quotations have been reinterpreted as  speeches by God to or about Jesus. Although Jewish Scriptures could refer to angels as sons of God (for example, Genesis 6:2), at no point does God say to an angel, “You are my son” (Psalm 2:7), or concerning an angel, “He will be my son” (2 Samuel 7:14). Likewise, “Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet” (Psalm 110:1) is God’s speech to Jesus, not to an angel (Hebrews 1:13 anticipated in 1:3). 

If angels worship Jesus (Hebrews 1:6; quoting an ancient Greek translation of Deuteronomy 32:43), then Jesus must be their superior. Angelic messengers are as swift and powerful as wind and fire (Hebrews 1:7, reinterpreting Psalm 104:4), but they are also servants taking orders from Jesus, who founded the earth, stretched out the heavens, and now rules at God’s right hand (1:8–13). According to the author, God even addressed the exalted Messiah as God. Thus, Jesus rules forever with justice and joy (1:8–9, quoting Psalm 45:6–7).

Hebrews begins with a rhetorical trumpet blast, calling its listeners to join with the angels in worshipping Jesus as God’s likeness and heir. What we believe about Jesus will impact how we respond to this call. Is Jesus the one in whom we see God most clearly revealed? Who is the ruler who directs our lives? Has Jesus’ gift of purification from sin transformed our lives so we, too, love justice and care for all creation? Such questions are worth pondering whenever we choose to read this text.

Works consulted

Attridge, Herald W. The Epistle to the Hebrews. Hermeneia. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1989.

Bucher, Debra J., and Estella Boggs Horning. Hebrews. Believes Church Bible Commentary. Harrisonburg, VA: Herald Press, 2024.

Eisenbaum, Pamela. “The Letter to the Hebrews.” In The Jewish Annotated New Testament, 2nd ed., pp. 460–88. Edited by Amy-Jill Levine and Marc Zvi Brettler. 0xford: Oxford University Press, 2017. 

Lane, William L. Hebrews 1–8. Word Biblical Commentary. Dallas, TX: Word Books, 1991.

McConnell, Eric. “Hebrews 1:1–4 as the Interpretive Guide for the Book of Hebrews.” Journal of Ministry & Theology 26, no. 2 (January 1, 2022): 53–77.

Pierce, Madison N. Divine Discourse in the Epistle to the Hebrews: The Recontextualization of Spoken Quotations of Scripture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020.