Lectionary Commentaries for February 9, 2025
Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

In 2006, pastor and professor Marvin McMickle examined the sad state and the lamentable landscape of preachers in the United States. He saw preachers who had become parochial promoters of culture wars, passive, acquiescent backers of political parties, performers of vacuous praise and worship demonstrations, and proclaimers of a prosperity gospel (or of what is actually a perversion of the gospel because such proclaimers assume that the cause of poverty lies in personal ineptitude or group pathology, not in structural inequities). So, McMickle raised the question, “Where have all the prophets gone?”¹

Anyone who extends the scope of the landscape beyond preachers to leaders in general today might raise a similar question: “Where have all the true leaders gone?” God knows we need some true leaders today—not the narcissistic occupants of offices who seek to line their own pockets with the public’s wealth, not the intemperate officeholders who use their positions to embark on revenge tours, and not the uninformed politicians who take little stock in facts and often issue baseless ex cathedra pronouncements. So, where have all the true leaders gone or why do we not see true leaders emerging today?

If we look carefully enough, I suspect we may find the answer in Luke 5:1–11 or in Luke’s “great catch” episode. I mean here, though, not the massive haul of fish that Simon and his fishing partners brought to Lake Gennesaret’s shore but instead Jesus’ own “great catch,” or his ability to gather and grow leaders.

In the flow of the story from 5:1 on, the “great catch” focus is not so much on fish but on followers—or, better yet, on the church’s future leaders (Simon, James and John, Mary of Magdala, Joanna, and other ministering women [8:1–3]), on leaders we will see again. We will see Mary and Joanna again at the tomb. We will hear about James and John again in Jairus’s house, at the Transfiguration, and in Acts. Importantly, we will hear about Simon again—at the Transfiguration, in one of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances, and in the book of Acts. Though few, and frail and fragile at first, these followers, this “great catch” of followers, will prove to be a formidable force in the coming years.

Still, the great catch would never have happened if Jesus had not helped these potential leaders to overcome their perceived personal impediments, the things that had them stuck on the sidelines. So in Luke 5:1–11, we may well see why true leaders may not be emerging in our own times. We may discover the impediments that have caused some potential leaders to be stuck on the sidelines away from the busy traffic of life.

First, some potential leaders are stuck on the sidelines because they are wrestling with past failures. The crew and partners of Simon had fished all night but had caught nothing. Maybe they would fish another day, but not right now. Gradually, though, Jesus gets the fishermen to redirect their sight away from the shoreline to the sea (by putting out a little at first and then by putting out into the deep). He thus helps them to push through past failures with new success in the present.

Stuck in reverse, many potential leaders today can’t move forward. Reluctant leaders must learn, though, to redirect their sight by shifting the spotlight away from the shoreline to the sea—from old failures to new success.

Raised in the cottonfields of South Carolina, can you push past a promised down payment of five dollars with money you do not have and yet start an institution of higher learning on a dump heap? If so, you can have the success of a Mary McCleod Bethune.

Hit by a heart attack, can you push past legislative deadlock to form a Great Society that will offer Medicare for the aged, a HeadStart program for the young, and Civil Rights legislation for those poor Black women and men whose citizenship rights had been shoved to the side by disqualifying codes and dilutive electoral politics? If so, you can have the success of a Lyndon Baines Johnson.

Second, some potential leaders are stuck on the sidelines because they are wrestling with their present foibles. Still, when Simon said, “I am a sinner,” Jesus did not cast his sight elsewhere. Jesus was not looking for perfect people—just committed ones. And whatever would become of Simon’s future as a healer (Luke 9:1–6; Acts 3:1–10; 9:32–35), he first had to begin with the self-recognition that he was a sinner.

Potential leaders must not be stymied by sins—by present foibles. Self-recognition of our own wounds is the formative idea in Dutch priest Henri Nouwen’s famous book, The Wounded Healer. Self-recognition also lies at the heart of the refrain “It’s me, It’s me, It’s me, O Lord” in the Black spiritual, “Standing in the Need of Prayer.” Potential leaders do not have to be perfect—just committed.

Third, some potential leaders are stuck on the sidelines because they are struggling with their future fears. Away from the fishermen’s past failures and present foibles, Jesus shifts the focus to the future by using a formula that offers assurance to persons on the eve of a great transformation. Thus, beyond saying “Fear not,” Jesus says, “From now on you will be catching people” (5:10), which gives his would-be followers a glimpse of their future despite their fears.

That anti-fear plus “this is your future” formula, though, harks back both to the early chapters of Luke (1:13, 30–31; 2:10–12) and to the Hebrew Bible (for example, Genesis 15:1; 21:17–18; 26:24; Exodus 14:13–14; Isaiah 41:10). From Abram (Abraham) and Hagar and—by way of Jesus—on to any potential leader who is standing on the sidelines today, this is our assurance and reclamation: The one who calls us also controls our future.

Notes

1. Marvin A. McMickle, Where Have All the Prophets Gone?: Reclaiming Prophetic Preaching in America (Cleveland, OH: The Pilgrim Press, 2006), vii.

“Holy, Holy, Holy is the LORD of Hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory” (verse 3).

“Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips” (verse 5).

“Here am I; send me,” (verse 8).

These are some of the popular and frequently repeated phrases from Isaiah 6 in Christian liturgies. As much as these timeless phrases are relevant, they also embody messages of transformation and subversion for the Isaian community then and for us today. This passage that provides us a glimpse into the nature of the prophet’s vision invites us to witness God’s glory and its transforming power in the life of the prophet and his community, and for us.

Narrated in first-person, Isaiah 6:1–13 is a combination of Isaiah’s call to prophetic ministry and the challenges such ministry entails. Although the pericope for the lectionary reading ends with the prophet’s voluntary response to the Lord of Hosts’ call, read together with the succeeding verses in 6:9–13, it highlights the challenges Isaiah is to anticipate in his prophetic ministry. For this commentary, I will focus on Isaiah 6:1–8. Isaiah’s vision report introduces us to the subversive nature of this vision evident in two ways: polarization of mortality and eternity; and transformatory encounters of the divine and subversive response of the prophet.

The vision report in Isaiah—unlike the call narratives of other major prophets such as Jeremiah and Ezekiel, which are recorded at the beginning of their ministries—is placed in chapter 6. Its placement in this setting, rather than in chapter 1, closely coincides with the impending sociopolitical crisis in the form of the death of Uzziah, the Syro-Ephraimite war, and Assyria’s expanding hegemony. The death of Uzziah marks the immediate context in 6:1.

Isaiah 6 opens by reporting that he saw this vision in the year of King Uzziah’s death. Verse 1 highlights two important aspects: first, the death of Uzziah; second, the picturesque presentation of the Lord of Hosts. These two aspects are connected and, when taken together, communicate something that Isaiah is narrating to his initial audience and to us today. Introducing the vision report with the death of King Uzziah highlights the end of a “successful” reign. Instead of hearing of the new king who succeeds Uzziah, the reader is introduced to a heavenly and eternal King, “sitting on a throne, high and lofty, and the hem of his robe filled the temple” (verse 1). One cannot escape the contrast between a mortal earthly king and the Lord of Hosts, whose reign is characterized as eternal, with the divine creatures, the seraphs, attending and singing praises.

Uzziah’s death is also significant because he is one of the most successful kings of Judah in the eighth century. With a reign that spanned around 52 years, Uzziah died around 740 BCE. Second Chronicles 26 elaborates the economic and political stability Uzziah established for Judah. However, while Uzziah did what was right in the sight of God (26:4), later in his career when he became powerful, he was proud and was unfaithful to God (26:16).

If we compare the reign of the earthly king with the reign of the heavenly King, several contrasting images ¹  First, the limited reign of Uzziah and his death in 6:1 contrast with the eternal reign of the Lord of Hosts. Second, Uzziah’s unholiness in his acts of pride and his attempt to burn incense on the altar, and his subsequent punishment (2 Chronicles 26:16), contrasts with the holiness of God resounding in the temple so much that the foundations of the thresholds shake (Isaiah 6:4). Third, Uzziah’s presence in the temple interrupts the duties of the chief priest Azariah and others (2 Chronicles 26:17–18), while God’s presence in the temple and God’s holiness bring about transformation in Isaiah.

Isaiah’s encounter with the divine brings transformation in him. Isaiah 6 records a series of transformative acts. First, Isaiah “sees” the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty, and the hem of his robe fills the temple. Instead of “seeing” or prophesying about the succeeding monarch (note that verse 1a reports the death of a king), Isaiah sees the Lord sitting on a throne. Seeing God in the Hebrew Bible sometimes has dangerous consequences, to the point of experiencing death. As Exodus 33:20 notes: “‘But,’ [the LORD] said, ‘you cannot see my face, for no one shall see me and live.’” Moses was not allowed to see God’s face; however, Isaiah and Micaiah Ben Imlah see the Lord sitting on the throne (Isaiah 6:1; 1 Kings 22:19).

In addition to seeing God, Isaiah also sees the seraphs (fiery creatures) attending the Lord and singing praises. These divine creatures are terrifying in that they have six wings: “with two they covered their faces, with two they covered their feet [feet here is a euphemism for genitals: no nakedness is allowed in the presence of God], and with two they flew” (verse 2). The seraphs are in attendance singing praises to God but also communicating with God. Seeing God and hearing seraphs singing praises to God, and witnessing the “pivots of the thresholds” shaking (verse 4), and smelling the incense and smoke that filled the room, Isaiah is transformed. He is transformed by God’s very presence and by witnessing God’s glory.

This transformatory experience of God’s holiness leads Isaiah to a greater awareness of his inner self and the people among whom he lives. In a combination of awe, fear, and humility, Isaiah confesses, “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!” (verse 5). Isaiah’s acknowledgment of his uncleanness and his people’s uncleanness in the presence of God in the temple is intriguing. God, who doesn’t tolerate any uncleanness in close proximity, entertains Isaiah despite his uncleanness. Uncleanness doesn’t prevent him from entering the abode of God, imagery that flips the traditional understanding of God’s holiness.

Immediately, the seraphs who are in communication with God fly to Isaiah with live coals and touch his mouth. Just as the high priest would utter the words of absolution, the seraphs do so: “Your guilt has departed, and your sin is blotted out” (verse 7).

Having witnessed the Holy One, Isaiah is ready for any call. The dual transformation of the heart and lips leads Isaiah to respond to God’s call. In verse 8, God—who has been silent so far, allowing Isaiah to see, hear, smell, and taste—now speaks and makes a general call. As if there were others in attendance with Isaiah, God says, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And Isaiah says, “Here am I; send me!” (verse 8). Witnessing the mighty presence of God, Isaiah volunteers to be the one who goes. Perhaps he does not entirely realize the challenging task and context he is called into, although he is aware of the rebellious nature of the people. But God not only reveals God’s own glory but empowers and prepares Isaiah for the task.

Amidst challenges, anxieties, failures, disappointments, discouragement, and loss, awareness of the sovereignty of God and trust in God’s transformatory power empower those who respond to God’s call.

Notes

1. The book of Isaiah employs masculine, feminine, and gender-neutral metaphors to refer to God. For example, in Deutero and Trito Isaiah, God is referred as a “mother,” a “father,” a “woman,” and the “Holy One.”

Psalm 138 is a song of thanksgiving in individual style.¹ The opening line, “I give you thanks” (verse 1a) is a common feature of thanksgiving songs. Such songs perhaps served as liturgies for the offering of well-being (Leviticus 7:11–18), the words of the psalm accompanying the thanksgiving sacrifice. The word for the offering in Hebrew is todah, the same term that may more generally mean “thanksgiving,” and the verbal expression “I give thanks” here comes from the same Hebrew root.

The sacrifice of well-being was a free-will offering Israelites made in response to God’s gift of healing from illness or restoration of any sort. Jeremiah 33:10–11 depicts such an offering after the Lord restored the fortunes of Judah from the devastating circumstances of Babylonian captivity. Whether or not Psalm 138 was used alongside a sacrifice of this type, it contains beautiful words of thanksgiving for a prayer of gratitude.

“With my whole heart” is a Deuteronomic expression that communicates a wholehearted desire to give thanks (see 1 Kings 8:23; Jeremiah 3:10; 24:7). The phrase is a first-person version of the words “with all your heart” in the Shema’s injunction to love God completely (Deuteronomy 6:5). The reference to the temple in verse 2 confirms a possible setting in worship like that described above, namely, for one who came to give an offering after God restored her from sickness or trouble.

Despite the appropriateness of Psalm 138 for the cultic act of making a thanksgiving offering, a number of elements of the psalm suggest the psalm served as “a general song of praise by the restored community in the postexilic period” rather than just the song of an individual.²

For example, the first section of the psalm (verses 1–3) gives very general reasons for thanksgiving and does not indicate a situation of sickness or other specific trouble. Also, rather than giving details of God’s restoration, it simply names God’s “steadfast love and faithfulness” (verse 2), which are popular descriptions of divine character (see Exodus 34:6), and recalls only that “on the day I called, you answered me” (verse 3).

The psalm identifies perhaps its most important setting in verse 1b: “before the gods I sing your praise.” The expression “before the gods” reflects the task of the community of faith to witness to God’s power and goodness in a world in which many “gods” vie for attention. Although these words may not seem applicable for modern believers who have adopted a narrow understanding of monotheism, “before the gods” is a powerful reminder that God is the only true source of healing and refuge.

Praise in the Old Testament always has a positive, straightforward dimension in which the worshipper declares his or her adoration of God (“I sing your praise”). It also carries, however, a pejorative element, a denunciation of the power of “the gods,” which modern worshippers do well to recognize in all the forces that claim their loyalty.

Verses 4–6 focus on the nations’ recognition of the Lord with assurance that they will acknowledge the ways of the Lord and give praise (verses 4–5). Verse 6 identifies the primary reason for this praise: the Lord’s character is worthy of it because the Lord “regards the lowly.”

This fundamental statement of God’s character is common in the psalms. Although God is powerful, it is the particular use of divine might that defines the Lord. Namely, the Lord exercises power to bring justice and equity (see Psalm 97:2b, “righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne”). Psalm 82 presents this concern for justice as the primary characteristic of divinity, and here Psalm 138:4–6 identifies it as the reason the “kings of the earth” will ultimately acknowledge the Lord’s sovereignty.

Verses 7–8 return to explicitly individual language as the psalm concludes with thanksgiving for deliverance from trouble, similar to that in other thanksgiving songs (see Psalm 30). The final line, however, speaks again of a community of faith. “The work of your hands” describes God’s people in other passages (verse 8; see Isaiah 60:21; 64:8).

Thus, the psalm as a whole testifies to God’s deliverance as individuals experience it as part of the redeemed community. It points to the larger purpose of salvation, namely to reveal to the “nations” the goodness of God and to testify to the community’s reliance on God and confidence that God’s salvation will come to completion.³

The preacher does well to highlight the nature of thanksgiving and to note the thanksgiving offering that stands in the background of this psalm. Perhaps most important to note, however, is that this psalm has potential to guide worshippers to the true meaning and purpose of thanksgiving. It reminds us that our salvation, for which we give thanks, is not for us alone. It is also evidence of the reign of God and the coming of God’s kingdom. With that recognition, Psalm 138 gives us language to proclaim the truth of God’s kingdom to the powers of this world that claim falsely to hold the keys to life.

Notes

1. This commentary was published previously on this website for February 6, 2022.
2. James Luther Mays, Psalms (Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching; Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994), p. 424.
3. Mays, Psalms, p. 425.

Paul has often been viewed as the hero of (Protestant) Christianity, and indeed, his contribution is significant. Among the 27 books of the New Testament, 13 letters are attributed to him. Many people have appreciated the power of the gospel in Paul’s letters. Without Paul’s letters, Christianity would look very different.

Today’s passage (1 Corinthians 15:1–11), however, is a reminder that Paul was not the only Christ-believer in the mid-first century, let alone the most prominent one. Rather, the Paul encountered in this passage is one who is struggling to convince others that his view of resurrection is valid. Paul bases his claims on shared tradition among other apostles, his audience in Corinth, and himself. This passage contains the gospel of resurrection that nourishes and inspires all believers.

To be sure, Paul presents himself as an authority to his Corinthian audience throughout 1 Corinthians. For example, he writes, in Christ he “became [their] father through the gospel” (4:15), admonishing his “beloved children” (4:14). Paul spends almost four chapters (chapters 11–14) correcting their communal worship practices. At the end of chapter 14, Paul’s tone grows highly critical. “Anyone who claims to be a prophet, or to have spiritual powers, must acknowledge that what I am writing to you is a command of the Lord. Anyone who does not recognize this is not to be recognized” (14:37–38). One might expect Paul to adopt a definitive tone after this.

In 15:1, however, Paul adjusts his tone to talk at length about resurrection. Resurrection is part of Paul’s gospel, but he received this salvific gospel (verse 2) from others, then passed it on to the Corinthians (verses 1, 3). The content of this gospel is Christ’s death, burial, and resurrection, all of which have occurred “in accordance with the scriptures” (verses 3–4). Although it is uncertain which scripture(s) Paul refers to, it is important to note that “this early creed specifies that the story of Jesus’ passion and resurrection must be interpreted in light of [Israel’s] Scripture.”¹ Paul’s Christophany takes place within the story of Israel and God’s faithfulness toward God’s people.

This early Christian tradition Paul received also includes a list of people who encountered the risen Christ (verses 5–7), to which Paul adds his name in verse 8. Paul firmly believed he saw the Lord (9:1), and his apostolic calling is rooted in this visionary experience (see Galatians 1:1, 15–16), but he was not the only witness. The tradition of Christophany was mediated through many witnesses—named and unnamed, female and male.²

Paul encountered Jesus later than his contemporaries. As his faith matured, the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ became the center of Paul’s apocalyptic conviction and proclamation. God acted for the world and humanity decisively through and in Christ. Yet, the tradition about resurrection, especially the appearances of the risen Jesus, was potentially Paul’s weakest spot when it comes to apostolic authority. According to the canonical Gospels, Paul was not among the first disciples of Jesus, nor was he with them in Galilee or Jerusalem when Christ appeared (Paul isn’t part of the narrative of the Gospels!). In today’s passage, Paul admits he received this gospel from others (verse 3; see also 11:23 for the tradition about the Lord’s Supper; despite Galatians 1:1, 11).

First Corinthians 15:1–11 demonstrates how Paul handles this perceived deficiency. Paul inserts himself into the list of those who witnessed the post-resurrection Christ with humble expressions (“as to one untimely born,” verse 8; “I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle,” verse 9), but also a sense of finality (eschaton pantōn, “last of all,” verse 8). Finally, Paul claims his place as an apostle by appealing to how the God of Israel graciously acted for all, including him, through Christ’s resurrection (verse 10).

Reading 1 Corinthians 15:1–11 around Epiphany emphasizes the significance of Christ’s resurrection in Christian tradition. While there are numerous denominations and churches, the gospel of resurrection is one of the common denominators. This message of resurrection has been the foundational confession for all believing communities everywhere. Today’s passage suggests Paul’s apostolic proclamation was aligned with that of other apostles (verse 11), flowing from their shared faith. Furthermore, they believed that this foundational gospel emerged from, and should be understood in light of, Israel’s scripture (verses 3–4). The memory of Christophany, God’s life-giving work, was handed on by many faithful ones. Despite Paul’s claim (“last of all,” eschaton pantōn), this list is not closed.

All Christians are entrusted with spreading this gospel. First Corinthians 15:1–11 is not about proving resurrection scientifically, objectively, or apologetically.³ It is about a faithful response to Christ’s appearance and God’s gracious revelation in Christ. This earliest ecumenical tradition invites one into a flourishing life in Christ, one that Paul and all other early Christians encountered through the grace of God (verse 10).

Notes

1. Richard B. Hays, First Corinthians (Louisville: WJK, 1997), 255. While admitting the ambiguity of this phrase, Hays suggests a few possible scriptures, such as Isaiah 53 (for death), Hosea 6:2 or Jonah 1:17 (for the third day), and Psalm 16 (resurrection/vindication) (256).
2. First Corinthians 15 does not explicitly mention women in the list of witnesses. Yet, according to the canonical Gospels, several women were among the first who saw the empty tomb (Mark 16:1–8, Luke 24:1–10, John 20:1 [Mary alone]), and/or the risen Jesus (Matthew 28:1–10, John 20:11–18 [Mary alone]).
3. “There is no proof that Jesus rose from the dead. Even an empty tomb does not prove it. … [E]ven if there were medical reports to confirm it, they still would not prove that God raised him or that his resurrection meant his victory over all the powers of sin and evil.” Shirley C. Guthrie, Christian Doctrine, 50th Anniversary Edition (Louisville: WJK, 2018), 272–73.