Lectionary Commentaries for January 19, 2025
Second Sunday after Epiphany

At the end of John 1, Jesus promised Nathanael (and by extension his other disciples as well) that he would see “greater things.” It doesn’t take long for us to find out at least the start of what that means. Chapter 2 begins with a common and joyful event: a wedding. It is a rather odd wedding story since the focus is not on the happy couple. The bride is never mentioned, and the groom makes only a brief appearance with no spoken part at all (verse 9).

Questions abound: Are they friends of Jesus and his family? Are they relatives? Why does Jesus’ mother think he can do something about the wine running out? Is this simply a matter of social obligation for the guests (or the members of the extended family) to help provide for the wedding celebration, or does his mother expect something “greater”? If so, why would she expect such things? Within John, she has not been mentioned at all before this story, so we should be cautious about assuming details regarding Jesus’ conception and birth from Matthew and Luke to fill in the gaps here. There is ambiguity in her request.

And what of Jesus’ response to her? His “hour” has not yet come, meaning his hour of glorification that will come with his crucifixion (see 12:20–25). Yet Jesus does not abandon the wedding party to their empty wine bottles. In this Gospel Jesus has a habit of first refusing and then fulfilling requests. At the start of chapter 7 Jesus tells his brothers that he will not go to Jerusalem, but then he goes “in secret.” At the start of chapter 11 Mary and Martha implicitly ask Jesus to come and heal Lazarus (or at least come to be with them during this difficult time), but he waits for two days before leaving for their home.

In our text, too, Jesus seems to resist the request of his mother before addressing the situation. In this pattern of behavior, Jesus distances himself from any kind of authority his family or friends might assume over him. What Jesus does is not due to social or familial pressure. This pattern makes clear that what Jesus does is a matter of grace.

The grace that Jesus shows in this scene is an act of overflowing abundance. Though we don’t know how many guests were at this wedding celebration, we might reasonably assume that 120 gallons of additional wine after the guests have had a good deal to drink already (verse 10) was more than enough. The setting of a wedding already engages the imagination of careful readers. It is an event that points to deep relational bonds, intimate connections, and the establishing of family. Such intimacy will be echoed within John’s Gospel as Jesus talks about how the disciples and he will “abide” in each other and how the disciples will “abide” in his love (15:4, 9–10).

Jesus addresses his mother as “woman” again from the cross, when he creates a new familial relationship between the “beloved disciple” and his own mother (19:26–27).  Further, the wedding is a rich image in Jewish tradition, pointing to the time of God’s deliverance and blessing for Israel (Isaiah 61:10; see also Revelation 19:7–9; 21:2).

Wine in abundance is part of how that promised day of celebration is imagined (Joel 3:18; Isaiah 25:6). Second Baruch 29:5 (probably written, like John, near the end of the first century) promises that “on one vine will be a thousand branches, and one branch will produce a thousand clusters, and one cluster will produce a thousand grapes, and one grape will produce a cor [with some historical uncertainty, about 50 gallons] of wine.”

For all the bells of the messianic age that this story may ring for readers, the act of Jesus is surprisingly underplayed. There is no recounting of Jesus placing his hands over the jars of water and praying for a transformation into wine. The change is mentioned almost in passing in verse 9, so that it may even surprise the first-time reader. It is a striking de-centering of the “miracle.” The result is not that the wedding is filled with marveling crowds but that the disciples believe in Jesus (verse 11). The event has become, for them, the first “sign,” a revelation of Jesus’ glory. This glory is not simply equated with the power to do miracles. Rather, as a sign this event points beyond itself to the deeper reality of just who Jesus is.

Yet the relationship between “sign” and “faith” in John’s Gospel is not simple. Here, it may seem rather straightforward: The disciples witness the sign and it leads to faith. Yet at the end of chapter 2 there is some hesitation about those who believe because they have seen signs (2:23–25). Seeing the signs does not automatically lead to believing at all (12:37–41). At the wedding, in some mysterious way it seems that properly seeing the sign also requires faith. The servants know where the wine has come from, yet they apparently do not see the glory of Jesus in this event; they are not explicitly said to believe. The glory remains hidden from most at the wedding.

It will not be difficult for preachers to find examples of where our resources run short, intruding even into what should be joyous times of life: Shortfalls in finances, health, patience, compassion, and hope can all threaten to empty the celebration. What then is the “glory” that we see revealed? As in this story, we may find that the flashy miraculous is underplayed and hidden. Yet the glory of Christ is revealed in love, in service, in community, in grace. There is no transfiguration story in John. Instead, Jesus’ glory is seen all through his ministry and is especially revealed as he is glorified in his death and resurrection.¹ There the wine overflows for us too.

Notes

1. Gail R. O’Day, “The Gospel of John,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 9 (Nashville: Abingdon, 1995), 539.

The book of Isaiah is traditionally divided into three sections: First Isaiah (chapters 1–39) corresponds to the period of the seventh and eighth centuries BCE, with substantial exceptions. Second or Deutero-Isaiah (chapters 40–55) is from the end of the Babylonian exile. And Third or Trito-Isaiah (chapters 56–66) corresponds to the postexilic period. Trito-Isaiah is a realization of the return prophesied in Deutero-Isaiah after the capture of Babylon by Cyrus, the king of Persia. 

Isaiah 62:1–5, comes at the end of Isaiah 60–62, often titled “Promises of Salvation.” Assigned for the season of Epiphany, Isaiah 62:1–5 highlights the revelation to the nations of Zion’s righteousness and salvation, and God’s radical hope embodied in the reversal of the status of the people of God.  

Isaiah 62 is a proclamation of reversal: a reversal of identity and experience. Isaiah 56–66 includes events referring to the postexilic period, with a focus on rebuilding and restoration. Whether Isaiah 62 is written in anticipation of a return from exile or refers to events after the Judeans returned to their homeland, we as modern readers are called to witness a rebuilding of a community who have gone through a devastating exile, wherein they lost everything dear to them. Rebuilding in Isaiah 62 does not give an assurance to restore the Judeans’ past lives, practices, traditions, and experiences, but reimagines a new beginning in which new identity and experience are nurtured. 

Unlike the silence of God, often understood as God’s anger, abandonment, or disinterest, Isaiah 62:1 opens with the words “For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent, and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest,” declaring an end to the time of silence. Scholars differ on who the speaker of these verses is. While some argue that it is the prophet interceding on behalf of Zion and Jerusalem, others opine that God is the speaker. Since God’s silence is assumed elsewhere in the book of Isaiah (42:14; 57:11; 64:12), and based on the radical reversals declared in the succeeding verses, I suppose that God is the speaker responding to the cries of the people who believed God was silent. 

The result of God’s speech is that God will ensure that the nations will see Zion’s vindication, which will shine out like the dawn, and her salvation like a burning torch (verse 1). This new status will ensure a new identity and experience. After being released from exile, illustrations of which can be found in great detail in the books of Ezra and Nehemiah, the Judeans are assured with a series of reversals. 

First, their identity is reversed: The city which was called “forsaken” and “desolate” (62:4a) and which was decimated by greed, corruption, and war now receives a new name and identity. It is no more a desolate land but shall be called Hephzibah—“My delight is in her”—and Beulah—“married” (62:4b). In this new identity, the relationship between God and Jerusalem is as intimate as that between bride and bridegroom (62:5). 

This relationship is interestingly situated in the celebratory stage where the bride’s desire and love are for the groom and the groom’s affection and love are for the bride. In this passage’s perfectly equal marriage metaphor—unlike other instances such as in Hosea, where the marriage metaphor carries the implication of an abusive husband’s anger toward his wife—Jerusalem, the one who was vulnerable, will be the delight of the groom. 

Second, their experience is reversed: The prophet who communicates the message of God says there won’t be exploitation anymore. The past experience of being exploited and robbed of their labor will not be the reality. The laborers will receive the fruit of their labor (62:8); wrongs will be righted, and Jerusalem, which was known for its desolation and destruction by the Babylonian Empire, will now become a beacon to the world. 

While it is problematic to highlight the election of Jerusalem in the context of genocide in Palestine today, it is important to remember that in Isaiah 62, the ones who can claim God’s protection and care are the ones who lack power and privilege. Any allusions to the election in the scripture in light of the current context is not just problematic but detrimental. God in the Old Testament, and especially in our passage, only sides with the oppressed, the marginalized, and those who do not have power. As we witness often in the Hebrew Bible, God is the God of the poor, afflicted, and the marginalized.

For those who experience rejection because of their social-political identities, excommunication due to their gender identities, or marginalization and discrimination of any form, God promises that they have a place in God’s plan and that God will never abandon them but, rather, will find delight in them, seek them out, and call them “holy people.”

Psalm 36:5-10 contains some of the most beautiful language of any psalm in the Psalter, as many readers have long recognized.¹ Verse 9² has rightly garnered the most attention: “For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light.” These words profess faith in God alone as the source and foundation of life, security, and goodness.

Since the profession of faith appears within a prayer for deliverance that sets the righteous and wicked in sharp contrast, many scholars classify the psalm as a prayer for help by an individual. An individual voice appears in verse 11 in the petition “Do not let the foot of the arrogant tread on me.” But the psalm as a whole has more the character of a liturgy in which the worshipping community speaks. The righteous comprise that worshipping community and speak together in verse 9b: “In your light we see light.” 

The lectionary reading focuses on the testimony to and prayer for God’s steadfast love. Yet, the division at verse 10 is not altogether logical, and the verses that precede and follow the lectionary reading help put verses 5–10 in context. Therefore, it is helpful to consider the larger context of the reading. 

The psalm begins with a description of the wicked, their character bent toward evil (verses 1–4). This description starts with a blanket declaration to the effect that the wicked are guided by a voice that tells them to transgress (verse 1a). The result is that they have no “fear of God” (verse 1b). Following this characterization of the anti-God character of the wicked is a series of more specific statements concerning their actions and activity: They act as though God does not notice their evil deeds (verse 2); their speech is full of mischief and evil plots (verses 3, 4a).

The section ends with another general portrait of the wicked in a pair of statements: Their way is not good; they do not reject evil (therefore, they embrace and continue it; verse 4). The psalm returns to the subject of the wicked at the end with the declaration that destruction is their destiny (verse 12). 

The lectionary reading, therefore, presents a confession of God’s goodness (verses 5–9) that provides a foundation for a petition for protection against the wicked (verse 10). 

Despite the troubling picture of the wicked and their bent toward evil in verses 1–4, the psalmist expresses confidence in God that overtakes any concerns about the threats of the wicked (verses 5–9). The key term that describes God’s character is “steadfast love” (verses 5, 7, 10).  The Hebrew word hesed refers at once to God’s faithfulness and graciousness as well as to God’s caring and protective presence. It is love that is doggedly sure and unfailing. The certainty of God’s provision and care is described in two distinct ways.

First, God’s steadfast love is presented as the stabilizing force in the universe and the key to the world’s cosmic order (verses 5–6). Here hesed is linked with “faithfulness,” “righteousness,” and “judgment” (or justice). In ancient Near Eastern cosmology, the heavens, mountains, and great deep represented parts of the world that had to be held in place for the world to be safe and stable. God’s steadfast love was like the glue that held them together. As a result, all living things (“humans and animals alike,” verse 6b) are kept safe.

Second, God’s hesed is more specifically the source of God’s goodness from which humans may find life and blessings. Verse 7 describes what humans may receive as “refuge,” a term for God’s sheltering care (see Psalms 2:12; 7:1).

“In the shadow of your wings” may refer to the presence of God known symbolically by the outstretched wings of the cherubim on the ark of the covenant in the temple. Whether or not that is accurate, the refuge of God is here linked undeniably to God’s house, the place of worship in Jerusalem (verse 8). Also, refuge is more than just protection or shelter (more than a hiding place from an enemy); it refers to the joy of fellowship with God who is the source of goodness and life (verse 9). 

The lectionary reading ends with a petition in verse 10 for God’s steadfast love to continue, but verse 11 expands on the plea by asking God not to allow the wicked to threaten the righteous. God’s faithfulness, in essence, is God’s protection against those who mean to harm the vulnerable.

The psalm then ends with a word of assurance that indeed the doers of evil (the wicked) will not continue to make trouble for the righteous (verse 12). The wicked are “thrust down,” which may refer to their going down to Sheol for punishment. What is certain is that their fate, and their place of destiny, is opposite that of the righteous, who “feast on the abundance of” God’s house (verse 8a).

Notes

1. Commentary published previously on this website for January 16, 2022.
2. In Hebrew, the verses for Psalm 36:1–12 are numbered 36:2–13. Verse number references in this commentary correspond to the English version, not the Hebrew versification. 

When reading any part of 1 Corinthians—but especially chapters 12–13, the epistle lessons for this and the next two weeks—it is important to remember Paul’s two central concerns throughout the entire letter. 

First, from the beginning, Paul reminds the Corinthian believers that they exist, not just as a group of people who come together once a week, but as a “church of God,” and not just any church of God, but “the church of God that is in Corinth.” God has called them together in Christ to live and serve in a specific city, with its own historical and cultural context that generally pays little attention to God, the call of Christ, or the richness of life in the Spirit. Paul calls on them to bring their distinctive identity and purpose to full expression right there where they meet together and live.

Second, throughout the letter, based on reports he has heard and on his own experience, Paul expresses concern about how they seem to be doing with respect to that identity and purpose (1:11; 3:1–4; 5:1; 11:18). His assessment does not focus on how many members they have, their average attendance, or their total or per capita giving (though those matters do show up in the discussion). 

Paul focuses on their actions, especially how they treat each other. What are they doing or not doing—for better and for worse—with respect to one area of life after another: love, marriage, sex and positive sexuality, money, food, giving, personal and communal spirituality and worship, gender roles, death, resurrection, and afterlife? Pick any area, and their actions toward each other have made it a source of conflict. 

All these things, rather than constituting the energizing elements of day-to-day life, have, in Corinth, become a fractured, contentious mix of aggression, defensiveness, self-importance, self-righteousness, and self-preservation. Given their conflicts, Paul tries to redirect their energies, chart a new course—as individuals and as a community—that, above all else, draws on their core identity and purpose as the church of God in Corinth. 

To that end, this passage offers a list of qualities more worth seeking than power, status, and influence to make everyone else think and be like you. The passage outlines different areas of community life—“gifts,” “services,” and “activities”—that, for the good of all, create and increase wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, powerful deeds, prophecy, discernment, tongues, and interpretation of tongues (12:4–6, 8–10). 

The Spirit offers these gifts to every community so they can grow to fulfill the ministries to which God calls them and can meet needs in the community around them. (Paul offers a different, though consistent, list in Galatians 5:22–23.) We do not actually choose the gifts, ministries, and activities that come to us. We can open ourselves to their transforming power, but their vitality and strength do not emerge out of our efforts. They grow within us “as the Spirit chooses” (12:11). Ten times in the passage Paul points us to the Spirit and to the centrality not of our own ways but of spiritual gifts, spiritual people, and the spiritual dimensions of our lives.

A variety of gifts abound. All come from “the same Spirit” and “the same Lord”; “the same God … activates all of them in everyone” (12:4–6). Paul calls for a radical attitude adjustment among the congregation’s individuals and factions, saying: “Your” church is not your church; it’s God’s church. It’s the church of God in Corinth (or wherever a church happens to be). 

God’s church, wherever it is and whoever is part of it, is not first and foremost about “us,” our factions, our lines of division, our designations of friend or foe, our preferences, habits, loyalties, political parties, or theologies. It’s all about the God, Lord, and Spirit who seeks to give our faith communities the wisdom, knowledge, faith, healing, powerful deeds, prophecy, discernment, “tongues,” and “interpretation of tongues” that lead us to embody the heart and mind of God. 

God’s church does not exist for the sake of our factions, disputes, rigid lines of disagreement, closed minds, closed hearts, and closed-off souls. Paul’s emphasis on the Spirit’s work as the true source of our individual and communal lives reminds us that everyone in our context—in the reach of our thoughts, words, and deeds—was created in the image of God and is as loved by God as we are.

These gifts, ministries, and activities are given to us not for ourselves but “for the common good” (12:7). This “common good” has no limitations or boundaries. It extends not only to “me,” or “us,” or whatever congregation or denomination we call our own. It extends beyond family, friends, neighborhoods, cities, states, political parties, countries; it extends across all lines of division, distinction, and separation humans have created. The common good extends to the whole globe, to the whole creation of which we all are a part.

God’s gifts remain abundantly available to all. Christ calls us together. The Spirit equips us to move way beyond ourselves.  

Epilogue 

The current, divided cultural climate in the United States and around the world, in light of the conflicted climate of the Corinthian church, confirms, as Ecclesiastes 1:9 says, that “there is nothing new under the sun.” That does not make it easy to live in peace or find common ground in these times. But particularly given that this lesson occurs on January 19, the day before the US presidential inauguration, exploring Paul’s approach to the conflicts in Corinth might provide an instructive three weeks for congregations who also live in divided contexts.