Epiphany 4 (1 February)
Readings: Micah 6:1-8; Psalm 15; Matthew 5:1-12; 1 Corinthians 1:18-31.
It is important to bear in mind that these readings are set in the context of Epiphany: there’s an illumination, a revelation lurking in here. Matthew begins this narrative with the important words: “When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, the disciples came to him. Then he began to speak…” In this very brief paragraph there are three very important clues to help us understand what happens here. The first thing that Matthew’s first readers would have noticed here is Jesus’ ascent of the mountain. A powerful allusion to Moses’ ascent of Mt Sinai to receive God’s holy teaching. Second, Matthew seems to provide a superfluous bit of detail, namely that Jesus sat down. This is not to say that Jesus was tired after a steep climb and needed a rest. “Sitting down” means he takes the posture of a rabbi, about to teach (or preach, if you want to). In most English translations the most poignant part is translated away. It merely says: …and he began to teach them. However, the Greek text says: “And he sat down and opened his mouth and he began teaching them…” This phrase (to open your mouth) is found a few times in the Old Testament. There it always indicates something revelatory about to happen. Not only a word about life, but a God’s word about the most profound secret of life. Jesus looks out over the crowd and see the meek, the mourning, poor etc and he tells them: ‘Blessed are you, the meek, the mourning etc. He is not saying you should become poor or meek. Instead, he says the kingdom of God, the kingdom of the impossible, is built on and by you and people like you. An impossible idea but made possible only by the graceful work and presence of God.
Epiphany 5 (8 February)
Readings: Isaiah 58:1-12; Psalm 112:1-10; Matthew 5:13-20; 1 Corinthians 2:1-16.
There are many instances where Jesus used the so-called ‘ego eimi’ (I am…) formulas in the Gospels but here he says: ‘You are…’ Note, not you should aspire to be, but you are. He doesn’t call on us to be the honey pots of the world (Helmuth Thielicke). Our calling is not simply to be nicer than others around us. Our calling to be the salt of the earth is linked here to something that is usually not mentioned when we talk about this. Directly after the call to be salt and light is Jesus’ teaching on the Law. We are salt and light when our lives are shaped by the Law of God and our righteousness exceeds that of the Pharisees. And Jesus continues to say that he didn’t come to abolish the Law but to fulfil it; in fact he emphasises this by adding: “Until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass till all is accomplished.” And this important, for the Law in Israel is not understood as a few moral rules that one must obey. Therefor the (Law) Torah begins with the words: I am the Lord your God… Being salt and light is not about being nice or having good values; it is about being in God. It means finding my identity, not in my own creative means of discipleship, but finding my identity in who Christ is. It means that Christ – and hence the Law’s accomplishment – becomes the flavour of our lives and the light in and through which we walk. And therefore, and only therefore, we are the salt of the earth and the light of the world.
Transfiguration (15 February)
Readings: Exodus 24:12-18; Psalm 2; Matthew 17:1-9; 2 Peter 1:16-21.
In the Old Testament, all theophanies (the visible manifestations of God), took place on the mountains. It was on the mountain that Moses received the Ten Commandments, that he was allowed a glimpse of the glory of God. It was on the mountain that God revealed Godself to Elijah in the sound of sheer silence (1 Kings 19). It was on the mountain where Moses and Aaron, together with 70 of the elders of Israel, saw the God of Israel (Ex 24:9).
However, there is one thing in this text that has struck me like a flash of lightning. When in Exodus 24 it says that Moses and Aaron, Nadab, and Abihu and the seventy elders went up the mountain, it says a very rare thing. It says that they saw the God of Israel. Imagine, what do you do when you are not only before the face of God, but you behold God?
The text says: they saw God and they ate and they drank. However, the remarkable thing is that in the NT this order of seeing God and then sitting down, eating and drinking is reversed. After Jesus’ resurrection we are told he appeared to two men on their way to Emmaus. But they didn’t recognise him. And then when they went into the house, sat down and ate and drank, their eyes were opened and they saw him. When we sit around the table of the Lord, something happens to us. Our eyes are opened. We see, as for the first time, who our table companion is. We see the face of God.
Perhaps you’d say, I’ve looked closely and I’ve only seen the so familiar human faces. And you’d be right.
Perhaps that is the transfiguration we are called to see.
Lent 1 (22 February)
Readings: Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7; Psalm 32; Matthew 4:1-11; Romans 5:12-19.
It is almost impossible to understand the Gospel in isolation from Genesis. In Genesis the serpent is not called satan or devil. The Hebrew word for the serpent here is the word nachash. It means shining or enchanting. And nachash, as the rabbis have pointed out, is what you get if you reverse the letters of Shechinah, which is the shining glory of God. So the serpent shines…important, almost like God….The attraction of Satan, is not the attraction of evil; it is the attraction of an imposter. That of course is exactly what the serpent promises Adam and Eve: paradise: a god-like existence; a life where they will get what they want. And that is exactly the temptation that the devil offers to Jesus on the mountain. The temptation of the triumph of his will. So his invitation is this: Since (‘if’ can be translated ‘since’) you are the Son of God, why not take up this relationship with God as a position of privilege, taking care of your own needs? Make bread for yourself, gain God’s protection for yourself and finally and perhaps the biggest temptation: gain the power of God for yourself.
The tempter never appeals to the worst things in us; he appeals to the best things in us. He doesn’t make his appeals to our shame, but to our honour. This is where the Lenten journey begins: not only once a year, but every single day. It is the journey where we should be lead from the love of my own will to the will to love.
It is on this journey that we discover that it is our wilfulness that causes us to live in alienation from God.
These Lectionary Reflections were prepared by Rev. Dr Ockert Meyer
