Epiphany: January 6, 2010

Text: Luke 1-2; Exodus 13:2; Leviticus 12:6-8; Malachi 3:1-3, 4:5-6; 1 Samuel 2:1, 2:26; Psalm 103:17;
Marcus A. Borg and John Dominic Crossan, The First Christmas Harper One, 2007)

Epiphany traditionally is the day when the Three Kings arrived at “the house” where Jesus was living.  Because Matthew’s narrative is conflated with Luke’s grand pageant, most Christians fail to realize that the “Kings” (if “kings” they were) arrived at least two years after Jesus’s birth, so they never mixed it up with the angels and the shepherds at the Caravanserai outside Jerusalem.

A careful reading of Luke’s first two chapters reveals that Luke’s purpose was actually to create a birth story for Jesus that would counter the birth story for the Roman Emperor, Augustus.  Augustus was hailed as king of kings, lord of lords, god of gods, begotten not made, born of an earthly woman (Atia), fathered by a heavenly ruler (Apollo).  Luke countered the birth of Empire with the new birth of Covenant.  Worse (from the point of view of imperial public relations departments), Luke declared that the crazed prophet known as “the Baptist” was the one who prepared the way for the one who was soon to be born, “King of the Jews.”

If the imperial appointee Herod Antipas, declared “King of the Jews” by Augustus, had gotten wind of such a parody, Luke’s life would have been in deep jeopardy.  But because Luke wrote his story 80 to 100 years later (and likely not in Jerusalem), the irony was largely missed by everyone but the folks on the inside track.  As scholars and others now realize, even the folks on Luke’s inside track didn’t really get the joke.  By the time the early Christian church had organized itself, the story had taken on a literally interpreted life of its own.

This story may begin to take on real meaning for 21st Century post-Christians by considering the following five motifs.

The Birth of John the Baptist (Luke 1:57-80)

Zachariah’s prophesy invokes Malachi 3:1: “See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple.  The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight – indeed, he is coming, says the Lord of Hosts.”  The messenger is not the harbinger of imperial peace through war and the power of imperial rule. The messenger – in language developed in these commentaries over the past three years – will give his people knowledge of non-violent liberation from injustice through the free gift of Covenant, “to shine on those sitting in darkness, in the shadow of death, to guide our feet to the way of peace.”

What the Angels Really Sang (Luke 2:14)  

“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to people whom he has favored!”  It’s not about “goodwill to men (and women)”; or “peace to men of good will with whom he is pleased.”  The angels sang peace to those whom god favors.

Probably the most challenging description of a post-theistic god-concept is John Dominic Crossan’s description of a kenotic god. “whose presence is justice and life, and whose absence is injustice and death.” Whatever post-modern people of the 20th Century learned about God and death had to have been crystalized at Auschwitz.  In a 21st Century, non-theistic, myth-rejecting world, the Angels might suggest that those who find favor with such a god who occasionally is nowhere to be found are those who participate in Covenant:  non-violent, distributive justice-compassion.  The cosmic joke is that those who find such favor may discover that death is the reward.  Who wants to sign onto that kind of deal?  The answer, of course, explains why Empire still holds sway on humanity’s Planet Earth.

Child Dedication (Luke 2:21-24)

Luke has Jesus’s parents pay careful attention to the rituals surrounding the birth of a child.  Jesus was a Jew.  That fact has long been denied, covered up by the dogma about divine destiny. Misunderstandings and mistranslations of Exodus 13:1-2 and Leviticus 12:6-8 further confuse and obscure what Luke was trying to show when he made sure that the child Jesus was properly “redeemed,” and that Mary was properly “purified.” None of this was originally about a foreshadowing of Jesus’s death as “redemption” for sinners.  Nor was it an illustration of the patriarchal oppression of women.  (As a footnote, the Jesus Seminar Scholars translation of verse 22 says “their purification,” as though the offerings were required for Joseph and Jesus as well.  This is probably not accurate.  The NRSV is very clear that the purification was for Mary as described in Leviticus:  “. . . then she shall be clean from her flow of blood” [Lev. 12:7b].)  The “purification offering” assured that Mary had recovered from the birth.  She did not die in the process as most women did; she did not become ill with post-natal infection in a world where medicine consisted of herbal trial and error; and the infant was born alive and survived not only for 8 days, but 40 days.  Medicine since 1930 has made the whole process much less dangerous, although the United States (the sole remaining imperial power of the last two centuries) still ranks near the bottom in infant mortality.

Finally, in the 21st century, “sacrifice” is a word contaminated with Anselm’s 11th Century theories about substitutionary atonement.  All Luke is saying is that Jesus and his parents were proper Jews, who performed the rituals that would allow Jesus to be raised as the child of his parents, and not turned over to the Temple to serve God – an interesting point, given the rest of Luke’s gospel story.

Confirmation of Divine Destiny (Luke 2:25-38)

Luke establishes Jesus’s divine credentials through both an outsider and an insider.  Old Simeon, who believed he would not die until he had seen the “Lord’s Anointed,” happens to arrive in the Temple at the time the rituals were being carried out.  “. . . [N]ow my eyes have seen your salvation [deliverance from oppression] . . . a revelatory light for foreigners, and glory for your people Israel.”  The prophetess Anna – the “insider” who had lived in the Temple all her life – came upon the scene “at that very moment. . .  and began to speak about the child to all who were waiting for the liberation of Jerusalem”  The inclusive nature of the realm of God is clear.  Cesar and his empire have been overthrown.

Jesus’s Ownership of His Own Identity (Luke 2:41-52)

Luke is the only New Testament writer to make it into the Canon who has a glimpse into the life of the young Jesus.  At age 12, he is not quite old enough for bar mitzvah, but he is also no longer a naive child.  The stage is set for Act II.

So What?

An “Epiphany” is a personal manifestation of a god, according to the Oxford Dictionary of the American Language.  Creative writers have begun to use the word to describe a transforming “Aha!” moment – a realization, a revelation of profound truth about life.  The first of the year 2010, which according to some is the first of the second decade of the 21st Century, is a good time for personal, social, religious, and political epiphanies.  For 21st Century post-Christians, the question becomes whether Luke’s story is relevant.  What gods may be revealed at this time?  What Empire has been overthrown?

Like Luke, we often do not go on past Malachi 3:1.  When we do (as G.F. Handel did), the question echoes down the ages:  “But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears?  For he is like a refiner’s fire and like the fullers’ soap; he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness [distributive justice-compassion].”

Malachi is not writing about petty sin.  Malachi is writing about the nature of injustice.  Pick any incident or issue in a local context:  An accident caused by a drunk driver, for example, in which the driver of the vehicle the drunk hits is killed, and the drunk walks away unscathed.  The media are all over it, interviewing the grieving family, who of course want revenge; demanding accountability from local law enforcement, or stricter penalties, or prohibitions on drinking alcohol.  No one is asking why the person who committed the crime was drunk in the first place.  The assumption is that person is evil beyond redemption.

Or – a far more troubling example – the case where a man who hated “liberals and democrats” walked into a Unitarian Universalist church on a Sunday morning in Knoxville, Tennessee, and started shooting.  Seven people were wounded.  Two died.  The shooter pled guilty and got a life sentence.  The focus for grief and support was on the members of the church who had been traumatized by the experience.  Much of the support also was for liberal religion, liberal thought, which had been lethally attacked by someone consumed by hatred.  These responses are normal and needed.  The Rev. Chris Buice, pastor of the church, said that in the end Adkisson himself was a victim of the hate that he carried.

        “It was more than just a hatred of liberalism; it was just hatred,” Buice said. “Hatred is blind. Ultimately, his hatred is what has now confined him. He will spend the rest of his days in prison. He is now a victim of his own hatred. [The guilty plea and life sentence represent] a measure of closure, as far as the legal aspects go. The verdict feels like justice, not in terms of punishment but more for the protection of those vulnerable in society.”

Unfortunately, and perfectly normally, Rev. Buice and those who offered the usual support for the victims remain trapped in justice as retribution and revenge.  The verdict allows only “a measure of closure,” and only in terms of the legal system.  He does not ask about some systemic cause for Adkisson’s actions.  They are due to “blind hatred,” as though “hatred” is a defining condition of human life.  Rev. Buice reluctantly acknowledges that the verdict renders some unsatisfactory justice in terms of “protection of those vulnerable in society.”  But he does not mean protection for Adkisson and others like him.  The life sentence is not likely to rehabilitate someone who is so lost that he sees no option other than a killing rampage.  Rev. Buice means that now – with Adkisson in jail for life with no possibility of parole – innocent church-goers are safe from being mowed down by blind hatred, over which they have no control.

At least until the next one comes along.

The layers of imperial systems of injustice are many and thick.  Like the proverbial DUI menace, no one is asking what made Adkisson into a vessel of uncontrollable hatred.  Is it possible for those who experience the results of that hatred to forego being helpless victims, and become activists for justice-compassion?  When will it occur to us that until we repent from our imperial victimhood and work for rehabilitation, the evil will continue to haunt us?

That is the transformation Luke’s birth story invites us into.  Jumping far ahead in Luke’s story, that is the transformation one of the criminals experienced, as he died with Jesus (Luke 23:40-43).  So far, like the other criminal, we have declined the invitation.

“This child,” old Simeon said, “is destined to be a sign that is rejected.”

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