Lectionary Commentaries for December 25, 2024
Nativity of Our Lord (II)
from WorkingPreacher.org
Gospel
Commentary on Luke 2:[1-7] 8-20
Meda Stamper
First Reading
Commentary on Isaiah 62:6-12
J. Blake Couey
This Christmas, many Christians feel hopeless. Military violence, political strife, and environmental disasters have made life unbearable across the world. It’s difficult to sing “Joy to the World” in a time of global instability. Feigned cheerfulness won’t alleviate our anxieties about the future.
Isaiah 62 was likely written in the century after the return of Judean exiles to Jerusalem in 538 BCE, following its destruction by the Babylonians in 587 BCE. Although the homecoming was initially celebratory, life soon became precarious. The city was sparsely populated. The returnees faced harassment from surrounding peoples and suffered the degradations of Persian imperial rule.
Against this backdrop, Isaiah 62:6–12 offers a powerful word to our despairing world. It acknowledges its audience’s realities and responds with relentless—but hardly naïve—hope. That hope rests in the promise of a coming savior and the efforts of believers to rouse God to action.
Calling God to task
Isaiah 62:6 announces that “sentinels” will guard Jerusalem 24/7. The underlying promise is clear: the city is prepared for future attack. With the traumatic memory of invasion still fresh in the community’s mind, this oracle would’ve been deeply reassuring. But then the image shifts at the end of verse 6. The “sentinels” are “you who remind the LORD.” This command suggests that “sentinel” is a metaphor for a prophet (compare Ezekiel 3:17; 33:7), whose vocation included praying on behalf of others (Genesis 20:7; Jeremiah 27:18). The same metaphor appears in Isaiah 21:11–12, which inspired the Christmas hymn “Watchman, Tell Us of the Night.”
The speaker urges the sentinels to intercede continually on Jerusalem’s behalf. By denying themselves rest, they will disturb God’s rest with their prayers and move God to action (verse 7). In verse 1, the speaker likewise pledges not to “keep silent” or “rest” until Jerusalem is vindicated. A similar exhortation appears in Jesus’ parable in Luke 18:1–8, in which a persistent widow moves an unjust judge to action by constantly banging on his door.
When God is slow to fulfill divine promises, we shouldn’t be shy about pestering God. When we pray for our fractured and hurting world, we put God on notice that something’s gone horribly wrong. We expect better, but we know we can’t fix things by ourselves. The good news of this text is that such prayers can move God to action.
Economic inequality
In verses 8–9, God responds with a divine oath, thereby putting the divine reputation on the line. If justice doesn’t come, God’s “right hand” and “mighty arm” will be proven fraudulent. These verses promise that the audience’s enemies will no longer consume their agricultural commodities (contrast Deuteronomy 23:33; Isaiah 1:7). For nearly 300 years, Jerusalem had been paying tribute to Assyria, then Babylon, and now Persia. Judah was invaded three times during that period, resulting in the plunder or destruction of food stockpiles.
Such losses would’ve been devastating in a subsistence economy. If anything, agricultural losses were already the norm when the text was written. The fertility of the land likely hadn’t recovered from the Babylonian invasion a century earlier, especially if it included targeted attacks on the means of agricultural production (compare Judges 9:45; 2 Kings 3:19). Haggai 1:9–11 further suggests that returning exiles faced severe drought. Such environmental stressors exacerbated the economic stress caused by Persian tribute demands. These depravations hit the lowest economic classes the hardest—especially agricultural workers, whose produce was taken not only by foreign rulers, but also by wealthy domestic landowners (Isaiah 5:8; Amos 5:11–12; Micah 2:1–2).
In short, Isaiah 62:8–9 addresses the kinds of working-class resentments felt across the world today. There’s no more appropriate season than Christmas for Christians to denounce economic inequality as sinful. As Mary’s Magnificat reminds us, Christ’s coming portends radical economic redistribution (Luke 1:52–53). In God’s ideal society, laborers receive the most benefit from the goods they produce, not banks or shareholders or CEOs.
The coming savior
The climax of Isaiah 62 is verse 11: “Say to daughter Zion, ‘Look, your savior comes.’” The announcement of a coming savior resonates powerfully with the celebration of Christmas, and it’s appropriate for Christians to make that connection. At the same time, we must acknowledge the meaningfulness of this promise for its audience over 400 years before the birth of Christ. We should also make clear that this savior was expected to bring political as well spiritual liberation.
Verses 10–11 echo Isaiah 40:1–11, especially the claim that God’s “reward is with him and his recompense is before him” (40:11) and the command to “prepare the way” (40:3). In addition, the double imperatives in 62:10 recall the opening “comfort, comfort” in 40:1. Isaiah 40 was likely composed a century earlier than Isaiah 62, when Judean exiles first returned to Jerusalem. The repeated language in chapter 62 reaffirms those previous promises, despite the fact that they remained mostly unrealized.
Interestingly, verse 10 commands the audience to “prepare the way for the people,” not just for the coming savior. The image of a festal highway appears throughout Isaiah, and it is usually meant for returning exiles and global pilgrims (Isaiah 2:2; 11:16; 35:8; 66:20–21). When word gets out that the savior is coming, people will flock to Jerusalem. Rather than hoarding God’s promises for themselves, the audience must welcome refugees and seekers who want to be part of the new day that is dawning.
The repeated commands in verse 10 (“go … go,” “build … build”) create a sense of palpable urgency. Throughout Isaiah 62, the promise of redemption demands a response from the audience. Liberation is God’s work, but that doesn’t justify inaction on our part. We don’t just wait for the arc of the universe to bend toward justice; we disturb God’s peace until God brings justice. We don’t just sit around until the savior comes; we get the world ready for its deliverer.
Psalm
Commentary on Psalm 97
Diane Jacobson
“The Lord is king … most high…exalted” — a perfect proclamation for Christmas.1
This reality is a matter of rejoicing. Psalm 97 begins and ends with rejoicing. In verse 1 all the earth is enjoined to rejoice, and in verse 12 the righteous receive the same imperative. And in the middle of the psalm (verse 8) the towns of Judah rejoice. As always with Hebrew poetry, the repetition and the ways thing begin and end remind us of what is important. Rejoicing rings and resonates as the church sings on Christmas.
And the crucial reason for the rejoicing is contained in the proclamation that “the LORD is king.”
Indeed, for many scholars, this is the central affirmation, the central metaphor of the entire psalter. For the problem of the world can be, and most often is expressed as, a two-pronged problem:
- Who finally is in charge? Who is it that actually rules over all of heaven and earth, over all who dwell on the earth?
- In what way does the one in charge rule? What is the nature of the governance of the world? Does this manner of ruling breed fear or does it bear the promise?
Who is in charge?
The LORD. In Hebrew, the phrase translated “The LORD is king” is more verbal than this NRSV translation suggests. The phrase is Yahweh malak, “the Lord reigns,” which uses the verb, mlk, that comes from the noun, melek, which means “king.” So the proclamation is literally that the LORD reigns; the LORD is in charge, and this is very good news indeed. In Psalm 97, the ruling of LORD stands in contrast to the lowliness of other gods who simply “bow down” before the LORD who is “exalted” far above them (verse 7 and 9).
How does the LORD rule?
Describing and praising the way that the LORD rules is the particular concern of Psalm 97.
Interestingly God’s reign begins by being obscured: “clouds and thick darkness are all around God.” These are then followed by fire, lightning, and mountains melting like wax (verses 2-5). Here is the familiar language of theophany, the language most often used when God appears. We are reminded specifically of the LORD’s appearance at the giving of the law on Sinai where there is thunder and lightning, thick cloud, fire, and smoke (see Exodus 19:16-18).
The darkness and fire of theophany serve as both warning and protection from coming too close. But I confess to hearing something even deeper in this language. The true nature of divine rule is often, like all divine truth, hidden or obscured. In our Christian theology of the cross, truth is often hidden beneath its opposite. The final revelation of kingship which begins this Christmas day in a manger ends, for Christians, with Jesus wearing a crown of thorns on the cross when once again darkness appears and the earth shakes (see Matthew 27:45-51).
In Psalm 97, the major way to recognize the reign of God is found in the second half of verse 2 in which the psalmist proclaims that God’s throne is founded on “righteousness” and “justice.” This is how God rules. God’s sovereignty is marked by these two things. This way of ruling cuts through the clouds and the darkness as the LORD sits enthroned in the midst of theophany. In fact, “righteousness” and “justice” here partake of the metaphor of the heavenly hosts carrying the throne of God into the temple. They become the hosts of heaven on which the LORD sits enthroned.
That righteousness is the central means by which the LORD rules is apparent once again through repetition. Righteousness is emphasized not only in verse 2 but also in verse 6 where the heavens proclaim God’s righteousness, in verse 11 where light (breaking through the darkness of verse 2) dawns for the righteous, and finally in verse 12 where it is made clear that those who are called on to rejoice in the Lord are indeed the righteous.
This is good news for God’s people, for Zion. They know the true God, and how the LORD rules. And they know as well that this good news comes with a set of expectations. To be faithful to this Lord means not only that they worship the Lord alone, forsaking idols and other worthless gods. It also means, as is made clear in verse 10, that they participate in God’s righteousness and justice by hating evil. To be faithful to God is to hate evil. This expectation is expressed in Psalm 97 not as a demand but rather as a promise. God “loves those who hate evil.” Those who hate evil are God’s faithful whose lives are guarded by God. God rescues the ones who hate evil from the very hand of the wicked.
As a result, the light, the very light that breaks through the darkness, dawns for the righteous. Here is cause for true rejoicing and praise. The Lord reigns and sits enthroned on a foundation of righteousness and justice. For this reality of the LORD as the ruler of all the earth and for this way that the LORD reigns through righteousness and justice, the psalmist enjoins us to give thanks.
Notes
- Commentary first published on this site on Dec. 25, 2017.
Second Reading
Commentary on Titus 3:4-7
Wesley Hill
Once more, we see the author of the letter to Titus focusing on God’s gracious generosity not in an abstract way, as if it were simply a disposition on God’s part, but as a concrete event: God’s lavish kindness and charity (philanthropia) have taken place or occurred (epephanē) through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus and his giving of the Holy Spirit.
Here the author refers to his readers having been “saved.” In the totality of Paul’s correspondence, this is unusual. More typically, Paul speaks of salvation in the future tense: “God proves his love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us. Much more surely, therefore, since we have now been justified by his blood, will we be saved through him from the wrath of God” (Romans 5:8–9, emphasis added). As he puts it memorably toward the end of Romans, “Salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers” (13:11).
Notwithstanding this dominant emphasis, Paul does speak occasionally, as here in the Titus passage, of salvation as a past experience: “In hope we were saved” (Romans 8:24, emphasis added; compare Ephesians 2:4, 8). And he speaks of salvation in the present as well: “the good news … through which also you are being saved” (1 Corinthians 15:2, emphasis added). For this reason, New Testament scholar G. B. Caird has summarized Paul’s (and the wider New Testament’s) view like this: “Salvation is expressed as a threefold act of God: an accomplished fact, an experience continuing in the present, and a consummation still to come.”1
Regardless of whether he speaks of past, present, or future salvation, Paul is equally clear that it does not depend on human initiative or achievement: “not because of any works of righteousness that we had done.” At the beginning of his ministry, such a statement was primarily Paul’s way of warning Gentile believers that if they tried to become observers of the Jewish law in order to show God their worthiness, they would be turning away from grace (Galatians 5:2–6). But as time went on and more and more believers from Gentile communities had less and less familiarity with Jewish traditions, Paul’s focus on the danger of striving for merit widened to consider virtuous actions in general.2
If Christians are tempted to think that any of their actions, from keeping the Jewish law to acquiring a certain social status to maintaining a given moral standard, are in any way the basis of God’s acceptance of them, they have taken a wrong theological turn. God is always the first giver, and human beings are always recipients. Salvation is always “according to [God’s] mercy,” never the reward for our good track record.
And yet, human action remains important as the channel by which God shows his mercy. This is why the passage speaks about salvation occurring “through the water of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit.” This is, almost certainly, a reference to the sacrament of baptism. God’s promise of grace is free and unconditional—and, at the same time, it “happens” or “takes place” when a priest or pastor pours water over our heads (or dunks us fully into a pool!) and announces God’s word of promise to us: “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.”3
Because of that baptismal sealing, believers may now confidently relate to God the Father through Christ, with whom we’ve been buried and raised to new life, and through their Spirit who has been poured out lavishly into our hearts. We are no longer slaves or strangers to God’s promises but members of the divine household, “heirs according to the hope of eternal life.”
For Christmas Day, the lectionary turns to the second half of Luke’s account of the birth of Jesus. This story of shepherds living in the fields and watching over their flock by night hinges on the moment when heaven breaks upon them in full glory, and they become bearers of the wonder, messengers of the holy messengers.
We are so accustomed to the creche that it can be difficult (and enlightening!) to extricate one narrative from another—to observe, for example, that here there is no star but, instead, a sign perfectly suited to shepherds. In light of the prophetic praise of Mary’s Magnificat (1:46–55), these first hearers and bearers of the gospel of the Savior-Messiah-Lord are the lowly already being lifted up and filled with good things. Luke’s Gospel majors in reversals of this kind. Jesus, like his mother, has a particular interest in the poor and oppressed. His mission statement says as much (4:18–19), and the version of the Beatitudes in this Gospel especially emphasizes it (6:20–26).
These shepherds also evoke the shepherd-kings of Israel—the literal shepherd David and the prophetic references to later kings as bad shepherds, and then to God as the good shepherd who will take control and care for the sheep (Ezekiel 34), which then will point to the shepherd-king Jesus. Jesus as the good shepherd appears explicitly in John 10. But Luke’s parables of the God of the lost and found (15:3–32) include the search for the one lost sheep, and shepherds as the audience of angels continues the suggestion of Mary’s Magnificat that this Davidic shepherd-king will not be primarily for the powerful, wealthy, and socially elevated elite.
With the appearance of the angel of the Lord, the light of glory shines around the shepherds, a visual display of the prophecies of Zechariah (1:78–79) and Simeon (2:32). The shepherds are terrified, as Peter, James, and John will be when enveloped in the glory of the transfiguration (9:28–36). Then the angel speaks and great joy breaks through great fear.
Angels (the Greek word angelos means “messenger” but is translated “angel” when the message is from God) feature prominently at the beginnings and ends of the Gospels. In the intertwining birth narratives of Luke, angels ensure and herald the coming of Christ and of John, the messenger (angelos!) to prepare his way. Matthew’s angels appear to Joseph and the magi in dreams of instruction and warning to protect the life of the child born king of the Jews (1:20; 2:12–13).
In Mark, where there is no birth narrative, angels minister to Jesus in the wilderness (1:12). Even in John, where there is neither birth narrative nor wilderness temptation, they feature in the first chapter when Jesus promises Nathanael (1:51) that he will see them ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.
Angels, or mysterious angel-like people, appear in all of the resurrection accounts. In Acts, angels direct (8:26) and encourage (27:23–24) the apostles, free them from prison (5:19; 12:711), and strike down Herod after he murders James and lets the crowds acclaim him as a god (12:23). The work and words of God’s messengers are transparently the work and words of God, so when an angel visits, things change in the lives of the visited for purposes larger than themselves.
The word for “bringing good news,” euangelizomai, which is also translated “preach the gospel,” holds within it the word for “angel/messenger,” with the prefix eu- meaning “good.” (Matthew and Mark more often use another verb for “preach” with the noun for “gospel”: euangelion.) So we might say the angel is gospeling the shepherds or angelizing goodness!
The gospeling angel is joined by a multitude of the heavenly host. Though we imagine them singing, the text does not say that they do, and a host is not a choir. A host is an army. The Lord of hosts of the Hebrew Scriptures is their commander. But this army is an army of praise, joining in the joy of Zechariah, Elizabeth, Mary, Simeon, and Anna, with a message of glory in heaven and peace on Earth.
The verb here for the angels’ “praise” occurs only two other times in Luke. The praise of the crowds at Jesus’ entry to Jerusalem (19:37–38) will echo the words of the angels. And here in 2:20 the praising and glorifying of the angels will be taken up by the shepherds, the first heralds of the birth to the world beyond the pasture.
The phrase “those whom he favors” is the word for “human beings” alongside the word for “good will” or “pleasure.” The verbal form of this occurs in the affirmation of parental pleasure at the baptism (3:22). When directed toward humanity here, this is not a test to be passed so that peace may be given. It is grace—a benediction on all the Earth—but delivered in this moment only to the shepherds. Whether it goes beyond the pasture is left to them.
When God’s messengers appear, the world changes for someone—miracle children are born, prisoners are released, empty tombs are reinterpreted, and here the shepherds are infused with the benediction they have received.
When the shepherds find the child and see the sign of the manger, they themselves become the messenger-angels of gospel. As the peace and joy have been made known to them, they now make it known. Everyone is amazed. Even Mary, the prophetic poet of praise par excellence, who has already been visited by an angel and overshadowed by the power of the Most High (1:35), treasures their words and ponders them in her heart.
Having done the gospeling of angels, the messengers of the messengers return to their flock as a shepherd-host of praise, having witnessed the living, breathing gospel for all people, which is also for them in their particularity—not in some distant past or future time and place but already there where they are. For them are the goodness, the joy, the Savior, and the sign suited specifically for people looking after animals in a field. And they in their particularity have proclaimed it for all people, the Earth, the whole of humanity, whom God is pleased to bless with peace—including us.