FIFTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR A

February 5, 2023

Christ Episcopal Church, Woodbury, N. J.

 

Habakkuk 3:2-6, 17-19

Psalm 27

I Corinthians 2:1-11

Matthew 5:13-20

 

The readings, prayers, and hymns during this season after the Epiphany emphasize the manifestation or showing forth of God’s light and glory, his power and wisdom. In today’s Old Testament reading, the prophet Habakkuk describes a wondrous vision of the Lord’s appearance from the East: “God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran. His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of his praise.” The psalmist likewise sings of God’s glory: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear?”

 

But interspersed with these glimpses of glory are also moments when the divine light becomes hidden and obscured. So, after joyfully exclaiming, “His brightness was like the light, rays flashed from his hand,” Habakkuk makes an abrupt turnaround: “and there he veiled his power.” The prophet goes on to describe a time of plague and pestilence, of a shaking of the earth, and a leveling of the mountains and hills.

 

So, we encounter a pattern of first the showing forth and then the veiling and darkening of God’s light and glory. Writers on the Christian spiritual life often describe this alternation between periods of light and darkness as one progresses in the way of prayer. It can be very upsetting and unsettling to move from the light into the darkness, although it may be necessary for our continued growth in faith, hope, and love. So, the psalmist sings of his desire to behold the fair beauty of the Lord, and pleads in verse 10: “O hide not thy face from me, nor cast thy servant away in displeasure.”

 

In his First letter to the Corinthians, the Apostle Paul takes this image of the hiddenness of God’s wisdom and power to a deeper level. He writes of imparting a wisdom not of this age or of the rulers of this age, but a secret and hidden wisdom of God. “None of the rulers of this age understood this,” he writes, “for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.” In other words, those who crucified Jesus couldn’t see his glory, which remained veiled from their sight. But along with all the other apostles, Paul’s proclamation of the Gospel aims at revealing Christ’s light and glory to all who have eyes to see it.

 

And so, in today’s Gospel Jesus similarly contrasts the light and darkness by the image of a lighted lamp, which can either be hidden under a basket or set on a stand to give light to all in the house. And he tells us that it’s our unique calling as his disciples, members of his Body the Church, to manifest his glory to the world. “You are the light of the world … Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”

 

In other words, in precisely the times when God seems to have hidden himself, when the light of his glory seems veiled from sight so that the world lies in darkness, then it’s our Christian vocation to be that lamp set on a stand so that it gives light to all in the house—precisely by means of our good works: such as caring for the sick and dying, feeding the hungry, and sheltering the homeless. Whatever the Church’s crimes and sins may have been down through the centuries, and there have been many, it’s also indisputable that from the beginning the Church and its members have been the chief purveyors of hospitals, clinics, schools, orphanages, feeding ministries, and homeless shelters—especially in those times and places where no-one else was willing to care for society’s weakest and most vulnerable members. In all these ways, the Church has fulfilled its vocation, however imperfectly, of being the light of the world.

 

If that seems like a tall order, well, that’s because it is. The good news here, however, is that we’re not in this alone. The good works that will move people to give glory to our Father in heaven are those that we perform not in our own strength, but in the power of the Lord. So, the prophet Habakkuk concludes his oracle: even when the crops fail and the flocks and herds are decimated, “yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like hind’s feet; he makes me tread upon my high places.”

 

Notice how this image of God setting us up in a high place recurs in today’s readings. The psalmist sings of taking refuge in the Lord’s Temple on Mount Zion in Jersualem: “For in the time of trouble he shall hide me in his tabernacle … and set me up upon a rock of stone. And now he shall lift up my head above mine enemies round about me.” And, of course, Jesus takes up a similar image when he speaks of his Church as a city set on a hill that cannot be hid.

 

But most of all, notice that Jesus’ exhortations in today’s Gospel take the form not of telling us to become something that we’re not, but rather to live more fully into the reality of who we already are. He doesn’t say, “Strive to become salt and light,” but rather, “You are the salt of the earth … You are the light of the world …” The challenge is to realize our true identity by letting our light shine out for all to see rather than by hiding it away. 

 

In this way, solely by God’s grace, we become ever more fully the people that God has created us to be. Our righteousness will exceed that of the Scribes and Pharisees (which, contrary to centuries of anti-Jewish preaching, is a very high bar indeed). Christ is the light of the world, and when we reflect his light in our hearts, letting it shine freely, then those who see our good works will glorify our Father in heaven.