2nd Sunday of Epiphany (18 January 2009)
Epiphany
[1 Samuel 3:1-20; Psalm 39:1-16; 1 Corinthians 6:12-20; John 1:43-51]
May the words of my lips and the meditations of all our hearts be ever acceptable in your sight, O Lord.
Dear Friends in Christ,
The season of Epiphany celebrates the revelation of the boy and the man Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth, as the Messiah. Today’s readings deal with the Epiphany as an encounter with God. Samuel hears God speak to him. The Psalmist recognises God as the source of his being. Paul understands the human body as the temple of the Holy Spirit. Nathaniel meets Jesus, and says, Thou art the Son of God.
I like etymology, the history of words. Most English dictionaries give you that information. Epiphany comes to us from the Greek, and it has two parts. The first is epi-, which means “outer, outward.” You may know that the outermost layer of your skin is called the epidermis, which just means “outer skin”. A lot of medical terminology is merely a translation from English into Greek or Latin. It makes the doctor sound learned, which is a great comfort to patients. Tucholsky, an Austrian humorist, said that more patients are cured by words than by medicine. There may be some truth to that.
The other part of the word, -phany, comes from a Greek word meaning “to appear, to be visible.” It’s related to the word phenomenon, which in English means “That which is visible.”
The Latin equivalent of “epiphany” is “revelation”. The English word for it is “uncovering.” So you see that in these three language there are three different takes on the process. The Greek word implies that the hidden thing shows itself. The English word suggests that we, the onlooker, move aside the veil. The Latin word encompasses both ideas.
So much for etymology. Interesting, but it doesn’t explain what’s going on in the readings appointed for today. I want to think of epiphany from another angle. Think of it as an encounter. From this angle, the season of Epiphany focusses on and celebrates the first encounters between Jesus the Messiah and the world he had come to redeem.
The Gospel story is part of the history of the Apostles, whom Jesus called to follow him, and who saw in him the Messiah. “Thou art the Son of God,” says Nathaniel, when Jesus invites him to come along. Pretty simple story: the Apostles all one way or another say what Nathaniel said, and that’s why they were the Apostles, I think. Many people met Jesus, heard him speak, encountered him as preacher and healer and prophet. Many of them became his followers. A few saw in him the fulfilment of the promise, that God would send his Anointed One to redeem his people. And fewer still saw in that Messiah as the Son of the living God. A dozen of these few were chosen to accompany Jesus on his mission journeys.
So we may read this Gospel passage as testimony: these men and women testified, they spoke about what they encountered when they met Jesus.
We can’t prove that Jesus is what they claimed he was. “Thou art the Son of God” is not a logical conclusion. It can’t be proven by reasonable deduction from first principles. Nor is it by itself evidence in the legal sense. To be legal evidence, personal testimony must be objective, it must describe what any reasonable person could have known if he or she had been in the same situation. It’s about what you saw or heard or tasted or smelled, it’s about what you did or saw others do. It’s not about what you believe, it’s not about what you think, it’s not even about what you, being a sensible person, conclude. Conclusions are not evidence, since a few additional facts or data could change the conclusion. It helps if there is some material evidence, that supports the testimony. And so on.
In other words, what the Apostles tell of their experience, and what they came to believe because of it, wouldn’t stand up in a court of law. But of course it wasn’t and isn’t meant to be presented in court. Nor would their testimony pass the test of scientific analysis or experiment. But of course it wasn’t and isn’t meant to pass that test. As for common sense, that much misunderstood capacity to navigate this rather confusing world we live in – what does talk about a man-god or god-man have to do with that? Nothing.
In the end, we are left with people’s accounts of what they experienced, what they encountered, what they believe is the truth. When Nathaniel says Thou art the Son of God, we confront a mystery. He’s either babbling nonsense, or he’s trying to say something that can’t be said in merely human language.
We may claim to share that belief. That is, we may say the same or similar words. We may believe that by doing so we mean exactly what Nathaniel meant. But of course that’s not so. We don’t exactly know what Nathaniel experienced. We don’t exactly know what we experience when we encounter God, for that matter. Saying it, talking about it, describing it, that is an attempt to make clear to ourselves what it was we experienced.
Nathaniel encountered a mystery. His response was a statement that on the surface is sheer nonsense. We too encounter a mystery. We may use the same language that Nathaniel uses. That’s one reason I believe it’s the same mystery. But that’s about all we can know for sure, if we can know it at all: that Nathaniel and we encountered the same mystery. For there is something about Jesus that defies human logic and understanding, and extends beyond human experience. We read the stories in the Bible, we read the life stories of the mystics and saints, we study theology, we testify and discuss and argue, and we talk and talk and talk.
Like I’m doing now, trying to explain why I think I can’t explain anything.
That phrase “the Son of God” will have as many meanings as the people who utter it, as many meanings as the times it’s uttered. Trying to communicate to someone else just what it means to you is like trying to point at something you see out of the corner of your eye. By the time you turn to look at it, it’s moved. There it is, just at the fringe of your vision, and if only it stood still, you could look at it, and see it clear.
But it won’t stand still.
So you’re left with this whatever-it-is that you express by saying that Jesus is the Lord, the Messiah, the Anointed of God, the Son of the Father, the Redeemer. Being able to say that, being able to say those words with some sense of their truth, being able to say them as an expression of something you’ve experienced, that’s what it means to have received the epiphany, the revelation of Jesus as God and Man.
Well, perhaps I’ve gone a little further than is good for me and you. Let’s leave this part of the meditation with this thought: that if you can echo Nathaniel’s “You are the Son of God”, then you’ve arrived at the starting point.
Because, you see, we still have to respond. The Epiphany, wherein God reveals himself to a human being, is not the end of the story. The other readings appointed for today each tell of a response to an encounter with God. Each shows us one of the ways we respond to God’s revelation of himself.
There’s the story of Samuel, whom God called in the night, and who thought at first it was his master Eli calling. Eventually Samuel was able to say, “Speak; for thy servant heareth.”
The Psalmist reflects on how God knows him intimately, has known him in the past, even before his birth, and will know him in the future. His response is praise: I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
The excerpt from Paul is one of his many attacks on bodily lusts and passions, and another reminder that there is more to us than our bodies.
I’ll focus on the story of Samuel. It shows us what happens when we first encounter God. We’re puzzled, we’re not sure what’s going on, we don’t immediately recognise it. Three times Samuel thought Eli had called him, three times Eli told him no. Then Eli told him to listen again. What Samuel heard was not good news for Eli, but Eli accepted it. We know that Samuel became one of the great prophets, a great truth-speaker.
I think there are at least three lessons to be drawn from this story. First, when we encounter God, we don’t always realise that’s what is happening. Second, that it sometimes takes another person to help us make sense of that encounter. And third, that the encounter may or may not be a pleasant one.
So how do we recognise an encounter with God? How do you know that the voice you hear in the night is God’s voice? Samuel didn’t know – but it sounded a lot like Eli’s voice. Like the voice of an older, more experienced person. It was Eli who told him to listen, and find out what the voice would say to him.
Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t hear voices in the night, leastways none that I don’t recognise or can’t identify. But God speaks to us in many ways. He speaks to us in the very nature of this world we are part of, in the bodies we inhabit, in the mind with which we think on these things. That’s what the Psalmist has experienced, and that’s what he testifies to.
But of course, just because two people look at the same object doesn’t mean they will see the same thing. Even to recognise that one is fearfully and wonderfully made is an insight that takes us a good way beyond the everyday taking for granted of the exquisite machine that is us. To see in that intricacy the mind and hand of God goes several steps beyond that. And to see that thereby our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit takes us another few steps.
Now it’s easy to say these things, but is it easy to understand what they imply? Paul sees that this means we must honour God in our bodies. I add to this that we must honour God in each other’s bodies – that we must not let bodily harm and degradation and pain be visited upon the bodies of other people, neither by our action nor by our inaction.
So Paul’s insight is not only a call to discipline ourselves, but also a call to protect and support each other. That’s some of the theology behind what we call charity, which is the giving of time, service, and treasure to the healing of the sick, the comforting of the lonely, the rescue of those in peril, the feeding and clothing of the poor. We may do these things directly and personally by helping those we know, or indirectly by charitable giving or paying taxes. In other parts of his letters, Paul goes into this and related questions surrounding our living together in mutual love in many ways, and you have heard many sermons exploring his insights.
However, Samuel needed Eli’s advice in order to learn how to listen to God. Just so, we need other people’s advice. We know it, too, which is why we so often ask other people for advice. But how often do we want advice on what to do, and how often do we want approval for what we’ve already decided to do?
Samuel thought he knew what was wanted, but he was mistaken. Just so we may also be mistaken. After all, how do we know what God wants from us? Because it feels right, right? But sometimes what we want to do also feels right. We need another opinion, an Eli to direct us to listen again, to help us distinguish between what feels good and what feels right. Because what’s the right thing to do is sometimes the difficult thing to do, as I’m sure we all know only too well.
Then when Samuel listened, he heard something he didn’t really want to share. He was told that things would go badly for Eli. He didn’t want to tell, but Eli insisted. And when Eli has heard God’s message, he accepts it. God will do what is right, says Eli. He submits. And the story of Eli ends there, with his submission to the will of God. So also we should submit to the will of God, we should accept his message. Even when we don’t like it. And I’ll end there, for to consider what it means to understand and accept the will of God is another sermon, and this one has gone on long enough.
Let us end with a prayer.
Lord God, give us the grace to recognise you in each other, in the world around us, in the promptings of our reason and faith. And having recognised you, give us grace to accept your will, that your Kingdom may be established here and in the world to come, according to your word. We pray in the name of that Word, in whom and through whom you reveal yourself to the Apostles, to the saints, and to us. That Word redeems us your creatures, and your Spirit sustains us. May it be so now and forever. Amen.
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