The Second Sunday after the Epiphany (Year A, RCL)
January 20, 2008
The Reverend Paul R. Abernathy, Rector
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A prophet, in biblical terms, is not a foreteller of the future, but, rather, a forthteller, a proclaimer of God’s word. A declarer of the truth about
life, the meaning of existence.
Today, we read Isaiah, who, over twenty five hundred years ago, prophesied to the nation Israel exiled in Babylon. The people, defeated, dispirited,
needed no prophetic word of correction, but, rather, consolation. So, Isaiah told the people, “Thus saith the Lord, you, Israel, are my servant in
whom I will be glorified.”[1]
God recommissions the people to be “a light to the nations,” the whole world, to witness to the truth that the quest for salvation, for prosperity and
peace involved suffering and survival.
And history – biblical, modern, and post-modern – confirms that our Jewish sisters and brothers, from the exodus from Egypt, through the sojourn through
the Sinai wilderness, in the horror of the Holocaust, and unto this day when the bigotry of anti-Semitism still cries out, “Christ-killers,” know well
the outrageous cost in suffering and the outrageous promise in survival of their witness to the world.
Today, we also read of John the Baptizer who over two thousand years ago prophesied, proclaimed God’s word to the people around the River Jordan near
Jerusalem. He was a witness to what God was doing in Jesus. “Behold, the Lamb of God!”[2] John declared, speaking the truth,
as he understood it, that the quest for salvation, healing, wholeness would involve sacrifice.
And Jesus, through his story of his life and ministry, seeking the least, the last, and the lost, proclaiming a radical return to the heart of the law
of life – love God, love neighbor – and challenging the status quo of selfish and unshared privilege of both the secular and religious powers and
principalities, charted a course that could only end at the cross of sacrifice, the cross of his own crucifixion and death.
Today, we read the prophecies of Isaiah and John the Baptizer. Prophecies of witness. A witness to truth. A truth that always seems to involve suffering
and sacrifice.
I suppose that it is no accident that the word “witness” is derived from the Greek martus, which bears the same root from which we derive the word
“martyr.” For to witness does not mean merely to behold a truth with the physical eye, but, rather, to testify to it, always being prepared to walk
up to and, if must be, through death’s door.
Today, we read the prophecies of Isaiah and John. This weekend we remember Martin Luther King, Jr., celebrating his life, commemorating his legacy.
One who over forty years ago prophesied, testifying to the truth that the American dream of universal equality and the opportunity to enjoy the
Creator-endowed “certain unalienable rights (of) life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”[3] was as yet
unfulfilled.[4] One who, in bearing that witness, was murdered. Martyred.
That prophecy, that dream remains unfulfilled. We live in a country where all are not yet able to say, “Thank God Almighty, we are free at
last.”[5] Where people still can be judged not by the content of their character, but by their skin’s color, their class
status, their sexual orientation, their gender,[6] or their chosen creed. Where everything but one’s character still can
determine whether one has access to the fullest range of economic opportunity. Where abiding poverty in a land of abundant plenty still daily crushes
the heart of hope. Where presidential candidates can and do still play the “pokered cards” of race, class, and creed hoping to amass the winning
number of chips. Where, yes, we have made progress – forty years ago, I couldn’t have been the Rector of St. Mark’s Church, yet, here I am –
but, nevertheless, to paraphrase Robert Frost, there are promises to keep and miles to go before we sleep.[7]
The bright beacon of Epiphany’s declaration that Jesus’ life and ministry of love are for all people, for the whole world casts its
searing, scathing light on the reality that the prophecy, the dream of the universality of equality remains unfulfilled.
What will I, what will we, St. Mark’s, do in response to that truth? How does, how will our communal mission – where we are – and
vision – where we are going – reflect our witness to that truth?
The late, great R. S. Thomas, a Welsh Anglican cleric, is one of my favorite poets. His lucid, austere verse speaks deeply to me of common human
emotions and experiences. In his poem, Judgment Day, Thomas expresses the regret of one who, like the rich man of Jesus’ parable, dead and
entombed in Hades, looks up and now, too late, recognizes those who in life were beneath him and thus he never saw.[8]
Thomas writes, “in health happy, (I was) careless of the claim of the world’s sick or the world’s poor.”
The dream of the world’s sick and poor remains unfulfilled. How will I, how will we, St. Mark’s, respond, so that the regret of Judgment Day
won’t be ours?
[1] Isaiah 49.3. The Hebrew scripture appointed for the day is Isaiah 49.1-7.
[2] John 1.29. The gospel passage appointed for the day is John 1.29-42.
[4] See The American Dream, Dr. King’s commencement address delivered at Lincoln University in Pennsylvania on June 6, 1961.
[5] The closing words of King’s I Have a Dream speech, delivered on August 28, 1963 as the keynote address of the March on Washington, DC, for Civil Rights.
[6] When I preached this sermon, I neglected to include gender. Following the services, Pamela Foggin, a parishioner and friend, pointed this out to me. I regretted my oversight and as I do earnestly believe that women often are judged by virtue of gender and not character, I include this mention in my written text.
[7] From the poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
