power is much more fragile than we imagine. When the wise men from the East arrive and stop to ask King Herod where the child who “has been born King of the Jews” is, the text reads, “When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him . . . ” Here is one of the most powerful people in the area, still under the dominion of Rome, certainly, but with almost unchecked power, and he is frightened by these wise men who have come into his country looking for a child, whom they say will be the King of the Jews.
That fear will ultimately lead Herod to kill all of the children he believes could possibly be the one the wise men tell him about, and it leads him to mislead the wise men here. He is so unsure of his power that he becomes so shaken by the simple arrival of a child that he is willing to slaughter countless children. We typically don’t think of power in this way. Instead, we think of those who are so secure in their positions that they have no worries, that their lives are ones of ease and comfort.
However, what those in power know (and what those of us not in those positions often forget) is how precarious that power actually is. They have seen people who have tried, as they did, to move up those levels only to be denied, whether through demotions, exile, or even death. These successful people were often the ones doing the demoting, exiling, or killing, in fact. Given that they know how easily they could dispose of other people, they also know how tenuous their hold on their position is. If they could do these horrific actions to someone else, then someone could just as easily remove them in one of these ways.
Rather than provide us with discouragement about the evils of humanity (though we should certainly remember that truth), we should draw hope from this story, as there are other ways of removing people of power, even by those of us who seemingly have little in our society. The Herods of this world must not only worry about those whom they have wronged on their way up or the ones who will come after them, trying to supplant them. They must also worry about the people they supposedly have power over, as people will only remain in those positions for a certain amount of time. If history teaches us anything, it shows us that people—when gathered together for a common cause against oppression—can overthrow those in power.
The problem the powerless have is that the powerful seem invulnerable, but they only seem that way until they no longer do. For those who grew up during the Cold War, the Berlin Wall seemed impregnable until it was torn down. For those who suffered through years of oppression via Jim Crow laws, those rules seemed immovable until they weren’t. For those in wheelchairs or blind, the obstacles that prevented them from entering buildings and jobs seemed insurmountable until they were no longer there. For those who wanted to marry their partners of the same sex, the laws that kept them from doing so seemed to be set in stone until the Supreme Court said otherwise.
Of course, we all know that all of these groups (and others) still suffer in our society. People on the LGBTQ spectrum still face obvious and subtle discrimination, as do People of Color and women and immigrants, among others. However, throughout the twentieth and into the twenty-first century, groups of those who seem to have no power in society say that they will not accept such treatment any longer. They stand up to the people in power, and they make changes in society.
Across the world, from the Arab Spring to movements for democracy in Africa to protests in Russia to people marching in America, people without obvious power stand up to those who clearly have it, and they change the world. Herod knew that one child born in Bethlehem, whom these wise men had dubbed the King of the Jews, could depose him. He was wrong, on a literal level, as he died long before Jesus grew up, but he was right where it counted. Herod’s type of power will always lose out to the power of unconditional love that Jesus preached. Herod knew how shaky his position was. Those of us who wish to see justice in the world must always remember that, too.
Questions for Reflection or Discussion:
Where are places where people have overthrown power, especially when it appeared impossible or highly unlikely they could do so?
Where are places people still need to overthrow power, even when it looks impossible to do so?
Good News
First Sunday After the Epiphany
Luke 3:15–22 (also Matthew 3:13–21 and Mark 1:4–11)
Isaiah 42:1–9
The three gospel accounts of Jesus’s baptism are largely the same, at least in terms of the general outline: John the Baptist is preaching, Jesus shows up, and John baptizes him. There are a variety of differences, ranging from minor word choice changes to something as obvious as the switch in point of view in the comments from the voice from heaven (switching from third person in Matthew to second person in Mark and Luke). The author of Luke, though, uses a phrase that neither of the other two authors use: “good news.” We normally wouldn’t be surprised to see this phrase in one of the gospel accounts, as it’s a phrase we use in our churches on a regular basis, and we generally agree on what we mean by it.
In the passage from Luke, though, it’s used at a place and in a way that seems rather odd. Rather than signifying some sort of salvation, it is related more to judgment. John tells the crowd that Jesus is coming to “clear his threshing-floor” and that he will burn the chaff “with unquenchable fire.” That doesn’t sound like the type of good news we talk about today. If one is the wheat, they might see it as good news, but the image of some sort of eternal punishment sounds more like the fire and brimstone sermons many of us have heard.
The church has used the phrase “good news” in this way far too many times in our long history, essentially trying to portray the eternal suffering that one will suffer without God in an attempt to force people into believing their particular brand of salvation. The “good news” in such a sermon is that one doesn’t have to endure that eternal suffering, that God has provided a way out of that eternity and into one with Jesus and the other Christians. My friends and I used to joke that they (or we, if we’re honest) were trying to scare the hell out of people. The only reason anyone needed any type of salvation was to avoid this suffering that would come if they didn’t choose to accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior. Luke’s addition of “and fire” after “Holy Spirit,” explaining what Jesus would baptize believers with reinforces such an idea.
Perhaps, though, “good news” doesn’t refer to that idea of suffering, as it’s connected to the word “exhortations.” John is encouraging those who have come to hear him, not condemning them. Granted, he is quite clear about what will happen to the chaff, but he also seems to believe that people will follow Jesus. He tells them that Jesus, the one to come after him, “will baptize [them] with the Holy Spirit,” implying that they will want that baptism. He seems to be saying that they will be so drawn to Jesus that they will want Jesus to baptize them with the Holy Spirit and fire. In fact, near the end of the passage, Luke’s author says, “Now when all the people were baptized . . . ” The author isn’t arguing that everyone who heard John was baptized, but people are clearly coming to hear John and responding to his “good news.”
That “good news” becomes clear once John baptizes Jesus and the voice from heaven speaks. People usually discuss this voice from heaven in one of two ways. Either they focus on the fact that it clearly shows that Jesus is God’s son or they talk about the trinity, given that all three members are in one place at the same time (assuming the voice from heaven is God). Thus, many people assume the good news here is that Jesus is God’s son.
However, there is another part of that voice from heaven’s comment that gives us more reason to see good news in the beginning of Jesus’s ministry. At the end of the voice from heaven’s comments, it says, “with you I am well pleased.” Such a statement shouldn’t be surprising, given that the voice from heaven is talking about Jesus. What’s interesting, though, is when such a statement appears in Jesus’s
