Transitions
Commentary
Object:
The bride-to-be was obviously nervous. It was only the rehearsal, but already the pastor could see that tomorrow’s wedding might be in for problems.
“You’re letting it all get to you,” he told her gently, as he pulled her aside. “Just take it one little step at a time. When you get to the door with your father tomorrow afternoon, look only at the aisle ahead of you. You’ve walked it hundreds of times, every Sunday when you come to church. Think only of that.
“Then, when you get to the front glance toward the altar. Here’s where you first received Holy Communion. Let it remind you of your Lord Jesus, who brought you to this special moment. Think only of the altar.
“And then, turn your head to your love. He’s your best friend. No one in this world wants to be with you more than he does. Look at him and think of him. And everything will be okay.”
Sure enough, the next day the wedding went off like clockwork. Everyone was in place. All the flowers perfumed the air and the music was festive. But some who stood close to the aisle as the bride entered wondered a bit at the things she was muttering under her breath: “Aisle... altar... him... aisle... altar... him... aisle... altar... him...”
It’s true that marriage alters us. We don’t set out to change the other person when we get married. Still, a living, loving, deepening relationship has its effect on each marriage partner. We live to love and we love to live. And in our living and loving, we grow and change and move and adapt, and somehow become new people. One pop singer calls a good relationship “two hearts beating in just one mind!”
A good marriage is like that. Long ago, A. E. Housman put it this way:
Oh, when I was in love with you,
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well I did behave!
-- “Poem XVIII,” A Shropshire Lad
Change and transition are at the heart of each of our passages for today. Isaiah vocalizes Yahweh’s promise of a new deliverance for Israel that will eclipse the tumultuous Red Sea crossing of generations ago. Paul writes to his Philippian friends about the wonder that changed his values and perspectives, and made him fall deeply in love with Jesus. And when Jesus himself gets close to the cross, a singular incident bares it like a testimony before the Jerusalem suburb crowds.
Isaiah 43:16-21
Isaiah’s name meant “Salvation is of Yahweh,” and this truly typified his words and prophecies. He was married (Isaiah 8:3) and had at least two children (Isaiah 7:3, 8:3), who were themselves illustrations of Isaiah’s prophetic declarations. The commissioning scene of Isaiah 6, with its Temple location along with all of the liturgical language surrounding Isaiah’s call, suggests that Isaiah might have been a priest, or at least a member of a Levite family. At the same time, his easy and constant access to successive kings (cf. Isaiah 7:3, 38:1, 39:1) might imply that he was an employee of the royal court, although his statement in 37:6 (“Say to your master...”) could be interpreted as setting him outside of the political system, at least at some point. Nevertheless, with the narratives of chapters 36-39 incorporated directly into the book, Isaiah obviously was at minimum a court recorder or scribe or historian of some kind (see also 2 Chronicles 26:22). Most likely he was the chief historian in the royal house, and possibly even a member of the extended royal family. In his duties he appears to have functioned as the official scribe or court recorder. Using that platform as a pulpit, he expressed magnificently worded prophetic analyses and judgments about the religious and political actions of the kings.
Regardless of whether one person, or several from a community that was shaped by a larger-than-life teacher, wrote the various and combined oracles of Isaiah, the message is consistent throughout. Isaiah was overwhelmed by a divine commissioning (6) that took place in the Temple during the year that King Uzziah died. He was guided by the theology of the Sinai covenant (2-5), which mandated that Israel was supposed to have a unique lifestyle among the nations, a set of behaviors which would serve as a missional call for others to join this holy community in a global return to the ways of their Creator. He was confident that Yahweh could resolve all political problems (7-11), no matter how daunting they might seem. He believed Israel/Judah needed to repent (12), and recover their original identity and purpose as Yahweh’s covenant partners and witnesses. He was certain that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations (13-35), even if Yahweh’s primary focus was attached to Israel/Judah. He heard the heartbeat of divine love and compassion, wrestling for the soul and destiny of Israel/Judah as a loved companion and partner (36-41). He saw Yahweh transforming Israel’s/Judah’s identity and fortunes through a “Suffering Servant” leader (42-53). He envisioned a future age in which all the world and every society and even the universe itself would be restored to harmony with its Creator, and would resonate with magnificent glory (56-66).
Among the prophets of ancient Israel, Isaiah was truly a prince, and his writings shaped the language of theological reflection among his peers and on into the age of the New Testament church. That certainly is the reason for today’s lectionary reading, paired with Paul’s testimony of his new life in Philippians 3, and Jesus’ preliminary announcement of his coming transformational death in John’s gospel.
Through Isaiah, Yahweh reflects on the powerful act of the Red Sea parting (including the destruction of the Egyptian army) when Israel was brought out of slavery (Exodus 13-15), and waves that momentous event aside as if it is nothing in comparison to the great initiatives of salvation yet to come. Although the northern kingdom of Israel has fallen crushed beneath the Assyrian onslaught (722 BC) and its territory has become a wasteland, and although the same threat continues to traumatize little Judah in the south, still God will part the waters, tame the winds, level the mountains, and fashion a highway of hope so that all of God’s people can come home in celebrations of heaven’s victories.
While Isaiah could not know exactly how this would be accomplished, the purposes of God unfolded into the life of Jesus in a way that turned back death, conquered kingdoms, and opened the way for a new heaven and a new earth.
Philippians 3:4b-14
The story of the expansion of Christianity is intimately connected, at its beginnings, to the person of Paul. While the specific details of his conversion are told in Acts 9, a larger portrait of Paul emerges in snippets from his letters. These paragraphs in Philippians 3 tell us that Paul’s parents were strict observant Jews (“circumcised on the eighth day”), openly religious (“of the people of Israel”), conscious of their family history and lineage (“of the tribe of Benjamin”), and careful to maintain ethnic purity (“a Hebrew of Hebrews”). Added to these bits of information come notes found in Paul’s personal testimony in Acts 22-23. He was raised in a Diaspora Jewish community in Tarsus (22:3), a Roman citizen from birth (22:8), and aligned through parental influence with the Pharisees in the sociopolitical mix of first-century Jewish culture (22-23:6).
Paul’s Hellenic name (meaning “small” or “humble”) was popular throughout the Roman world, and may have been a simple cognate to his familial Hebrew name “Saul” (“asked for” or “prayed for”). This name might have shown the family’s pride in its Benjamite roots, since Israel’s first king (likely the person after whom Paul was named) was from that tribe. Paul seems to have taken great pride in his vocational training outside of the religious instruction he received, for he reminded the Corinthian congregation that while he was with them he “worked with [my] own hands” (1 Corinthians 4:12). When Luke reports on Paul’s stay in Corinth, he mentions that Paul was busy in the marketplace plying his trade as a “tentmaker” (Acts 18:3).
In his religious education, Paul’s instruction was at the top of the Jewish mountain, literally and figuratively. Although born in Tarsus (at the northeastern corner of the Mediterranean Sea, near Antioch), his family must have had high hopes for him in religious leadership, for he told a Jerusalem audience that he was “brought up in this city” and that “under Gamaliel I was trained in the law” (Acts 22:3). It appears likely that Paul showed early promise in synagogue studies in Tarsus, and that his rabbi or the community thought he was a prime candidate to learn from the leading Jewish teacher of the day, Rabban Gamaliel in Jerusalem. Paul’s older sister, probably married at the time, was either living in Jerusalem or was sent to live there and create a home for the young lad while he studied with Gamaliel. When Paul was later arrested in Jerusalem in 54 AD (Acts 21) and imprisoned there, we learn that his nephew (“the son of Paul’s sister,” Acts 23:16) was coming and going from the jail, taking care of his uncle’s needs and serving as the link with the rest of Paul’s family.
Gamaliel was a leading figure in the Jewish ruling Sanhedrin, and the brightest light among the Pharisees of his day. Not surprisingly, under the influences of both Paul’s father and Paul’s great teacher, Paul himself forthrightly adopted the Pharisaic religious perspective and lifestyle as well (Acts 23:6). Paul excelled in his studies, for he said that it was out of his religious zeal that he began to persecute the church (Philippians 3:6). Even more, in his words, “as for legalistic righteousness” Paul judged himself “faultless” (Philippians 3:6) in his day-to-day behaviors. Paul lived and breathed his religious identity with a passion that was true and straight and unyielding.
But then Jesus confronted him (Acts 9), and suddenly Paul needed to rethink the whole of his theology and practices (Galatians 1:13-17). The outcome was a synthesis between zealous conservative Judaism and energetic Christian missionary engagement. Soon Barnabas took Paul along as a partner in the planting of a cosmopolitan missional congregation in the heart of Antioch (Acts 12), the third largest city of the Roman empire. It was the administrative capital of Rome’s eastern district, close to Tarsus (Paul’s family home) and also near Cyprus, where Barnabas’ family lived (Acts 4:36). During those years a large colony of Jews made their homes in Antioch, perhaps as many as 20,000 out of a total metropolitan population of around half a million.
From the supportive base of this Antioch congregation, Paul was launched into a wide-ranging spate of mission travels. It was on Paul’s second major mission journey (Acts 16) that the congregation in Philippi was born around 50 AD. Seven years later Paul would be in Rome, awaiting an appeal to Caesar after being arrested in Jerusalem. During his two-year confinement, a number of important things would happen, reflected in the brief notes of this letter.
Paul is “in chains” (Philippians 1:13), and around him are a number of preachers who testify about Jesus (Philippians 1:14-18), some for more noble reasons than others. Paul may have been depressed about his circumstances (Philippians 1:22-24), and maybe even thought at one time that he was about to die (Philippians 2:16-17), but he believes there is still a future ministry ahead of him in this life (Philippians 1:25-26). Recently the Philippians had sent their pastor or key leader, Epaphroditus (Philippians 2:25-30), to bring a gift of food and clothes to Paul (Philippians 4:18) along with their warm wishes. Now Paul is sending this letter of thanks, and will soon commission his trusted associate Timothy to bring Epaphroditus home to Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30).
Probably late in 57 AD or early in 58, Epaphroditus, who had been serving as pastor or congregational leader in Philippi, brought Paul a rather significant gift from that church (Philippians 2:25; 4:10). It may have included both money and supplies; in any case, it greatly enhanced Paul’s comfort in his limited circumstances.
Epaphroditus stayed on with Paul for some time, assisting him as a servant. Unfortunately, Epaphroditus became ill and nearly died (Philippians 2:25-30), and only very recently had returned to full health.
Paul believed that homesickness for Philippi and the congregation there might have contributed to Epaphroditus’ grave malady, and vowed to send him back home as soon as he was able to travel. Of course, a letter of appreciation and encouragement was a necessary part of all these things, so Paul penned Philippians, probably sometime in early 58 AD.
Paul’s letter to the Philippians is the most joyful and uplifting note of the entire New Testament. Even in Paul’s confinement, he is filled with delight in his relationships and amazed at what God is doing (Philippians 1). Almost without needing to do so, Paul reminds the congregation of the great example of Jesus, who gave up everything in order to express the love of God to us (Philippians 2:1-18). Another example of this selfless care is found in both Timothy and Epaphroditus, each of whom had sacrificed much in order to serve others, especially the faith community in Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30). More encouragement to serve follows, with Paul reflecting on his own changes of behavior and value systems once he was gripped by the love of God in Jesus (Philippians 3). A few personal instructions and notes of appreciation round out the letter (Philippians 4).
John 12:1-8
Although its development is markedly different from that of the synoptic gospels, there is a very clear pattern to John’s portrayal of Jesus’ activities and teachings in this gospel. When reading straight through the document, one notices several significant literary points of change. For instance, John 1:1-18 is a kind of philosophic reflection on time and space and the incarnation. Then suddenly at 1:19, we are brought directly into the daily life of first-century Palestine, walking among crowds who are dialoguing with John the Baptist about his identity. Clearly a shift of some kind takes place between 1:18 and 1:19.
The flow of life in real time continues through the next several pages, as John the Baptist points to Jesus and then steps out of the way (1:19-36), Jesus gains a following through his miracles and teachings (1:37--12:50), and then predicts his impending death (13:1-38). What transpires next seems to move into another kind of literature once again. From chapter 14 through chapter 17, Jesus is almost lost in a last reverie, a kind of mystical intimate moment with his disciples. The monologue weaves back and forth on itself until it shoots upward toward heaven in a prayer that surrounds Jesus and his disciples in a divine blanket of engulfing holiness (17). Abruptly the light dissolves, and with a kind of staccato journalistic pedantry the events of Jesus’ arrest, trial, death, and resurrection are recorded (18-20). Chapter 20 ends with a brief but sufficient conclusion to the book as a whole. Yet suddenly another story appears, and the finality of the wrapup in chapter 20 is broken and ignored (21). The disciples are listless and almost devoid of the power revealed when they earlier had realized that Jesus was come back to life. They now decide to go off fishing, for lack of anything better to do. But then Jesus appears, and their lives are quickly refocused so that they will be his followers to the end of their days. With that said, a second brief conclusion is offered and the gospel is finished.
Stepping back from the whole of this narrative, and reviewing the obvious literary disjunctures or sudden stylistic shifts in gospel, it becomes apparent that a significant transition happens between chapters 12 and 13 (related to the coming of “the hour” for Jesus; note 2:4, 4:23, 7:6, 12:23, 13:1, 17:1). This pivotal point is further accentuated by the grouping of all of Jesus’ “miraculous signs,” as John calls them, into chapters 1-12. This is why the first part of John’s gospel is often called “The Book of Signs,” while the last part wears well the name “The Book of Glory” because Jesus terms it so (12:23). Bookending everything, a cryptic prologue opens the gospel (1:1-18), and an epilogue, perhaps written by another party and added after the initial gospel was completed (chapter 21), brings it to a close.
Today’s gospel reading is a key element in the transition from “The Book of Signs” to “The Book of Glory.” Four important ideas are put forward. First, John notes that the Passover was imminent, only six days away. This is ominous to the reader, since John began his gospel by declaring that Jesus is “the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” (1:29), a clear reference to Passover that couples it with Jesus’ likely death.
Second, Jesus is doubly honored. He is appreciated in the house of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus for his marvelous miracle of bringing Lazarus back from death, and friends of the trio are called in for a feast at which Jesus is feted. Furthermore, Mary makes a public display of her passionate devotion by drenching Jesus with perfume. In a world of no powerful chemical cleansing agents, noticeable body smells and animal odors, and limited, extremely expensive masking agents, Mary’s unrestrained excess transforms Jesus into an immediate center of attention. He truly stands apart from the crowd as one-of-a-kind.
Third, Judas’ irritation with Jesus is quickly vented. While he may scoff at this waste and couch it in pious terms, the reality is that Jesus has become an embarrassment to Judas. His name modifier “Iscariot” indicates that he is a member of the “sicarii,” the “dagger men” of the Zealot faction. These radicalized Jews were tired of waiting for messianic deliverance, and had begun to prod social unrest through regular strategic assassinations with their short, curved blades. Judas was probably attracted early on to Jesus’ message of the coming Kingdom of God, and believed that Jesus might be the promised Messiah. But when Jesus stopped to play with children and took meals with tax collectors and prostitutes, Judas’ patience wore thin. Now he was beginning to think about ways to get Jesus back on track, and his conniving with local authorities to get Jesus arrested, forcing him into taking a public stand, was just around the corner.
Fourth, Jesus clearly announces his imminent death, and identifies it as supremely significant, superseding life as usual. While normal human life will go on, Jesus’ life, ministry, and death are a once-only event that will change all understandings.
The outcome is a clear declaration by gospel-writer John that the signs have truly identified Jesus as the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, and that the hour of glory in which God will be fully revealed amid human darkness by Jesus’ death and resurrection is come.
Application
Henry Francis Lyte was only 54, but several years of illness had kept him from functioning to full potential in his congregation in a small fishing village. His limitations seemed to have fostered problems in the church. At one time worship services were crowded, and over 800 children were taught by 70 teachers in the Sunday school program. Years ago, he knew the names of every boat in the harbor and every man who walked the docks. At one time his tireless care and enthusiasm drew even skeptics to Christ. But now he was failing rapidly. His doctor told him to quit the ministry.
His congregation was falling apart, and here he sat on a bluff above the sea, wondering what message to bring for his last Sunday evening sermon. The points and outline wouldn’t come. They were crowded out by the cares and troubles that surrounded him. But then a prayer began to form in his mind that softly caressed his vision back into focus: “Change and decay in all around I see; O Thou who changest not, abide with me!” The prayer began to sing itself. And by the time his people gathered for worship, a new hymn called them into the presence of God.
Henry Lyte died a few months later. But he died a blessed man. And people in churches around the world know that, each time they open their hymnbooks to sing his prayer: “Abide with Me!”
I need your presence every passing hour;
What but your grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who like yourself my guide and strength can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me!
Alternative Application
John 12:1-8.In another generation, young Isaac Watts came home from worship and criticized the service: stale, boring, lifeless. Not that the theology was wrong, only that the language of worship wasn’t the language of the people, either where they were or where they wanted, by the grace of God, to be.
“Then do something about it,” challenged his father. Isaac Watts did do something. He wrote new songs to declare the old truths in the language and expressions of the people. And in a short while the whole character of worship changed in his church, because all around them the saints of God heard the harmony of creation. And when they finally received a part they could sing, it only unleashed within them a chorus that supplemented the grand symphony of the universe, and echoed Mary’s love in today’s gospel reading:
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
“You’re letting it all get to you,” he told her gently, as he pulled her aside. “Just take it one little step at a time. When you get to the door with your father tomorrow afternoon, look only at the aisle ahead of you. You’ve walked it hundreds of times, every Sunday when you come to church. Think only of that.
“Then, when you get to the front glance toward the altar. Here’s where you first received Holy Communion. Let it remind you of your Lord Jesus, who brought you to this special moment. Think only of the altar.
“And then, turn your head to your love. He’s your best friend. No one in this world wants to be with you more than he does. Look at him and think of him. And everything will be okay.”
Sure enough, the next day the wedding went off like clockwork. Everyone was in place. All the flowers perfumed the air and the music was festive. But some who stood close to the aisle as the bride entered wondered a bit at the things she was muttering under her breath: “Aisle... altar... him... aisle... altar... him... aisle... altar... him...”
It’s true that marriage alters us. We don’t set out to change the other person when we get married. Still, a living, loving, deepening relationship has its effect on each marriage partner. We live to love and we love to live. And in our living and loving, we grow and change and move and adapt, and somehow become new people. One pop singer calls a good relationship “two hearts beating in just one mind!”
A good marriage is like that. Long ago, A. E. Housman put it this way:
Oh, when I was in love with you,
Then I was clean and brave,
And miles around the wonder grew
How well I did behave!
-- “Poem XVIII,” A Shropshire Lad
Change and transition are at the heart of each of our passages for today. Isaiah vocalizes Yahweh’s promise of a new deliverance for Israel that will eclipse the tumultuous Red Sea crossing of generations ago. Paul writes to his Philippian friends about the wonder that changed his values and perspectives, and made him fall deeply in love with Jesus. And when Jesus himself gets close to the cross, a singular incident bares it like a testimony before the Jerusalem suburb crowds.
Isaiah 43:16-21
Isaiah’s name meant “Salvation is of Yahweh,” and this truly typified his words and prophecies. He was married (Isaiah 8:3) and had at least two children (Isaiah 7:3, 8:3), who were themselves illustrations of Isaiah’s prophetic declarations. The commissioning scene of Isaiah 6, with its Temple location along with all of the liturgical language surrounding Isaiah’s call, suggests that Isaiah might have been a priest, or at least a member of a Levite family. At the same time, his easy and constant access to successive kings (cf. Isaiah 7:3, 38:1, 39:1) might imply that he was an employee of the royal court, although his statement in 37:6 (“Say to your master...”) could be interpreted as setting him outside of the political system, at least at some point. Nevertheless, with the narratives of chapters 36-39 incorporated directly into the book, Isaiah obviously was at minimum a court recorder or scribe or historian of some kind (see also 2 Chronicles 26:22). Most likely he was the chief historian in the royal house, and possibly even a member of the extended royal family. In his duties he appears to have functioned as the official scribe or court recorder. Using that platform as a pulpit, he expressed magnificently worded prophetic analyses and judgments about the religious and political actions of the kings.
Regardless of whether one person, or several from a community that was shaped by a larger-than-life teacher, wrote the various and combined oracles of Isaiah, the message is consistent throughout. Isaiah was overwhelmed by a divine commissioning (6) that took place in the Temple during the year that King Uzziah died. He was guided by the theology of the Sinai covenant (2-5), which mandated that Israel was supposed to have a unique lifestyle among the nations, a set of behaviors which would serve as a missional call for others to join this holy community in a global return to the ways of their Creator. He was confident that Yahweh could resolve all political problems (7-11), no matter how daunting they might seem. He believed Israel/Judah needed to repent (12), and recover their original identity and purpose as Yahweh’s covenant partners and witnesses. He was certain that Yahweh was sovereign over all nations (13-35), even if Yahweh’s primary focus was attached to Israel/Judah. He heard the heartbeat of divine love and compassion, wrestling for the soul and destiny of Israel/Judah as a loved companion and partner (36-41). He saw Yahweh transforming Israel’s/Judah’s identity and fortunes through a “Suffering Servant” leader (42-53). He envisioned a future age in which all the world and every society and even the universe itself would be restored to harmony with its Creator, and would resonate with magnificent glory (56-66).
Among the prophets of ancient Israel, Isaiah was truly a prince, and his writings shaped the language of theological reflection among his peers and on into the age of the New Testament church. That certainly is the reason for today’s lectionary reading, paired with Paul’s testimony of his new life in Philippians 3, and Jesus’ preliminary announcement of his coming transformational death in John’s gospel.
Through Isaiah, Yahweh reflects on the powerful act of the Red Sea parting (including the destruction of the Egyptian army) when Israel was brought out of slavery (Exodus 13-15), and waves that momentous event aside as if it is nothing in comparison to the great initiatives of salvation yet to come. Although the northern kingdom of Israel has fallen crushed beneath the Assyrian onslaught (722 BC) and its territory has become a wasteland, and although the same threat continues to traumatize little Judah in the south, still God will part the waters, tame the winds, level the mountains, and fashion a highway of hope so that all of God’s people can come home in celebrations of heaven’s victories.
While Isaiah could not know exactly how this would be accomplished, the purposes of God unfolded into the life of Jesus in a way that turned back death, conquered kingdoms, and opened the way for a new heaven and a new earth.
Philippians 3:4b-14
The story of the expansion of Christianity is intimately connected, at its beginnings, to the person of Paul. While the specific details of his conversion are told in Acts 9, a larger portrait of Paul emerges in snippets from his letters. These paragraphs in Philippians 3 tell us that Paul’s parents were strict observant Jews (“circumcised on the eighth day”), openly religious (“of the people of Israel”), conscious of their family history and lineage (“of the tribe of Benjamin”), and careful to maintain ethnic purity (“a Hebrew of Hebrews”). Added to these bits of information come notes found in Paul’s personal testimony in Acts 22-23. He was raised in a Diaspora Jewish community in Tarsus (22:3), a Roman citizen from birth (22:8), and aligned through parental influence with the Pharisees in the sociopolitical mix of first-century Jewish culture (22-23:6).
Paul’s Hellenic name (meaning “small” or “humble”) was popular throughout the Roman world, and may have been a simple cognate to his familial Hebrew name “Saul” (“asked for” or “prayed for”). This name might have shown the family’s pride in its Benjamite roots, since Israel’s first king (likely the person after whom Paul was named) was from that tribe. Paul seems to have taken great pride in his vocational training outside of the religious instruction he received, for he reminded the Corinthian congregation that while he was with them he “worked with [my] own hands” (1 Corinthians 4:12). When Luke reports on Paul’s stay in Corinth, he mentions that Paul was busy in the marketplace plying his trade as a “tentmaker” (Acts 18:3).
In his religious education, Paul’s instruction was at the top of the Jewish mountain, literally and figuratively. Although born in Tarsus (at the northeastern corner of the Mediterranean Sea, near Antioch), his family must have had high hopes for him in religious leadership, for he told a Jerusalem audience that he was “brought up in this city” and that “under Gamaliel I was trained in the law” (Acts 22:3). It appears likely that Paul showed early promise in synagogue studies in Tarsus, and that his rabbi or the community thought he was a prime candidate to learn from the leading Jewish teacher of the day, Rabban Gamaliel in Jerusalem. Paul’s older sister, probably married at the time, was either living in Jerusalem or was sent to live there and create a home for the young lad while he studied with Gamaliel. When Paul was later arrested in Jerusalem in 54 AD (Acts 21) and imprisoned there, we learn that his nephew (“the son of Paul’s sister,” Acts 23:16) was coming and going from the jail, taking care of his uncle’s needs and serving as the link with the rest of Paul’s family.
Gamaliel was a leading figure in the Jewish ruling Sanhedrin, and the brightest light among the Pharisees of his day. Not surprisingly, under the influences of both Paul’s father and Paul’s great teacher, Paul himself forthrightly adopted the Pharisaic religious perspective and lifestyle as well (Acts 23:6). Paul excelled in his studies, for he said that it was out of his religious zeal that he began to persecute the church (Philippians 3:6). Even more, in his words, “as for legalistic righteousness” Paul judged himself “faultless” (Philippians 3:6) in his day-to-day behaviors. Paul lived and breathed his religious identity with a passion that was true and straight and unyielding.
But then Jesus confronted him (Acts 9), and suddenly Paul needed to rethink the whole of his theology and practices (Galatians 1:13-17). The outcome was a synthesis between zealous conservative Judaism and energetic Christian missionary engagement. Soon Barnabas took Paul along as a partner in the planting of a cosmopolitan missional congregation in the heart of Antioch (Acts 12), the third largest city of the Roman empire. It was the administrative capital of Rome’s eastern district, close to Tarsus (Paul’s family home) and also near Cyprus, where Barnabas’ family lived (Acts 4:36). During those years a large colony of Jews made their homes in Antioch, perhaps as many as 20,000 out of a total metropolitan population of around half a million.
From the supportive base of this Antioch congregation, Paul was launched into a wide-ranging spate of mission travels. It was on Paul’s second major mission journey (Acts 16) that the congregation in Philippi was born around 50 AD. Seven years later Paul would be in Rome, awaiting an appeal to Caesar after being arrested in Jerusalem. During his two-year confinement, a number of important things would happen, reflected in the brief notes of this letter.
Paul is “in chains” (Philippians 1:13), and around him are a number of preachers who testify about Jesus (Philippians 1:14-18), some for more noble reasons than others. Paul may have been depressed about his circumstances (Philippians 1:22-24), and maybe even thought at one time that he was about to die (Philippians 2:16-17), but he believes there is still a future ministry ahead of him in this life (Philippians 1:25-26). Recently the Philippians had sent their pastor or key leader, Epaphroditus (Philippians 2:25-30), to bring a gift of food and clothes to Paul (Philippians 4:18) along with their warm wishes. Now Paul is sending this letter of thanks, and will soon commission his trusted associate Timothy to bring Epaphroditus home to Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30).
Probably late in 57 AD or early in 58, Epaphroditus, who had been serving as pastor or congregational leader in Philippi, brought Paul a rather significant gift from that church (Philippians 2:25; 4:10). It may have included both money and supplies; in any case, it greatly enhanced Paul’s comfort in his limited circumstances.
Epaphroditus stayed on with Paul for some time, assisting him as a servant. Unfortunately, Epaphroditus became ill and nearly died (Philippians 2:25-30), and only very recently had returned to full health.
Paul believed that homesickness for Philippi and the congregation there might have contributed to Epaphroditus’ grave malady, and vowed to send him back home as soon as he was able to travel. Of course, a letter of appreciation and encouragement was a necessary part of all these things, so Paul penned Philippians, probably sometime in early 58 AD.
Paul’s letter to the Philippians is the most joyful and uplifting note of the entire New Testament. Even in Paul’s confinement, he is filled with delight in his relationships and amazed at what God is doing (Philippians 1). Almost without needing to do so, Paul reminds the congregation of the great example of Jesus, who gave up everything in order to express the love of God to us (Philippians 2:1-18). Another example of this selfless care is found in both Timothy and Epaphroditus, each of whom had sacrificed much in order to serve others, especially the faith community in Philippi (Philippians 2:19-30). More encouragement to serve follows, with Paul reflecting on his own changes of behavior and value systems once he was gripped by the love of God in Jesus (Philippians 3). A few personal instructions and notes of appreciation round out the letter (Philippians 4).
John 12:1-8
Although its development is markedly different from that of the synoptic gospels, there is a very clear pattern to John’s portrayal of Jesus’ activities and teachings in this gospel. When reading straight through the document, one notices several significant literary points of change. For instance, John 1:1-18 is a kind of philosophic reflection on time and space and the incarnation. Then suddenly at 1:19, we are brought directly into the daily life of first-century Palestine, walking among crowds who are dialoguing with John the Baptist about his identity. Clearly a shift of some kind takes place between 1:18 and 1:19.
The flow of life in real time continues through the next several pages, as John the Baptist points to Jesus and then steps out of the way (1:19-36), Jesus gains a following through his miracles and teachings (1:37--12:50), and then predicts his impending death (13:1-38). What transpires next seems to move into another kind of literature once again. From chapter 14 through chapter 17, Jesus is almost lost in a last reverie, a kind of mystical intimate moment with his disciples. The monologue weaves back and forth on itself until it shoots upward toward heaven in a prayer that surrounds Jesus and his disciples in a divine blanket of engulfing holiness (17). Abruptly the light dissolves, and with a kind of staccato journalistic pedantry the events of Jesus’ arrest, trial, death, and resurrection are recorded (18-20). Chapter 20 ends with a brief but sufficient conclusion to the book as a whole. Yet suddenly another story appears, and the finality of the wrapup in chapter 20 is broken and ignored (21). The disciples are listless and almost devoid of the power revealed when they earlier had realized that Jesus was come back to life. They now decide to go off fishing, for lack of anything better to do. But then Jesus appears, and their lives are quickly refocused so that they will be his followers to the end of their days. With that said, a second brief conclusion is offered and the gospel is finished.
Stepping back from the whole of this narrative, and reviewing the obvious literary disjunctures or sudden stylistic shifts in gospel, it becomes apparent that a significant transition happens between chapters 12 and 13 (related to the coming of “the hour” for Jesus; note 2:4, 4:23, 7:6, 12:23, 13:1, 17:1). This pivotal point is further accentuated by the grouping of all of Jesus’ “miraculous signs,” as John calls them, into chapters 1-12. This is why the first part of John’s gospel is often called “The Book of Signs,” while the last part wears well the name “The Book of Glory” because Jesus terms it so (12:23). Bookending everything, a cryptic prologue opens the gospel (1:1-18), and an epilogue, perhaps written by another party and added after the initial gospel was completed (chapter 21), brings it to a close.
Today’s gospel reading is a key element in the transition from “The Book of Signs” to “The Book of Glory.” Four important ideas are put forward. First, John notes that the Passover was imminent, only six days away. This is ominous to the reader, since John began his gospel by declaring that Jesus is “the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world” (1:29), a clear reference to Passover that couples it with Jesus’ likely death.
Second, Jesus is doubly honored. He is appreciated in the house of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus for his marvelous miracle of bringing Lazarus back from death, and friends of the trio are called in for a feast at which Jesus is feted. Furthermore, Mary makes a public display of her passionate devotion by drenching Jesus with perfume. In a world of no powerful chemical cleansing agents, noticeable body smells and animal odors, and limited, extremely expensive masking agents, Mary’s unrestrained excess transforms Jesus into an immediate center of attention. He truly stands apart from the crowd as one-of-a-kind.
Third, Judas’ irritation with Jesus is quickly vented. While he may scoff at this waste and couch it in pious terms, the reality is that Jesus has become an embarrassment to Judas. His name modifier “Iscariot” indicates that he is a member of the “sicarii,” the “dagger men” of the Zealot faction. These radicalized Jews were tired of waiting for messianic deliverance, and had begun to prod social unrest through regular strategic assassinations with their short, curved blades. Judas was probably attracted early on to Jesus’ message of the coming Kingdom of God, and believed that Jesus might be the promised Messiah. But when Jesus stopped to play with children and took meals with tax collectors and prostitutes, Judas’ patience wore thin. Now he was beginning to think about ways to get Jesus back on track, and his conniving with local authorities to get Jesus arrested, forcing him into taking a public stand, was just around the corner.
Fourth, Jesus clearly announces his imminent death, and identifies it as supremely significant, superseding life as usual. While normal human life will go on, Jesus’ life, ministry, and death are a once-only event that will change all understandings.
The outcome is a clear declaration by gospel-writer John that the signs have truly identified Jesus as the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, and that the hour of glory in which God will be fully revealed amid human darkness by Jesus’ death and resurrection is come.
Application
Henry Francis Lyte was only 54, but several years of illness had kept him from functioning to full potential in his congregation in a small fishing village. His limitations seemed to have fostered problems in the church. At one time worship services were crowded, and over 800 children were taught by 70 teachers in the Sunday school program. Years ago, he knew the names of every boat in the harbor and every man who walked the docks. At one time his tireless care and enthusiasm drew even skeptics to Christ. But now he was failing rapidly. His doctor told him to quit the ministry.
His congregation was falling apart, and here he sat on a bluff above the sea, wondering what message to bring for his last Sunday evening sermon. The points and outline wouldn’t come. They were crowded out by the cares and troubles that surrounded him. But then a prayer began to form in his mind that softly caressed his vision back into focus: “Change and decay in all around I see; O Thou who changest not, abide with me!” The prayer began to sing itself. And by the time his people gathered for worship, a new hymn called them into the presence of God.
Henry Lyte died a few months later. But he died a blessed man. And people in churches around the world know that, each time they open their hymnbooks to sing his prayer: “Abide with Me!”
I need your presence every passing hour;
What but your grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who like yourself my guide and strength can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me!
Alternative Application
John 12:1-8.In another generation, young Isaac Watts came home from worship and criticized the service: stale, boring, lifeless. Not that the theology was wrong, only that the language of worship wasn’t the language of the people, either where they were or where they wanted, by the grace of God, to be.
“Then do something about it,” challenged his father. Isaac Watts did do something. He wrote new songs to declare the old truths in the language and expressions of the people. And in a short while the whole character of worship changed in his church, because all around them the saints of God heard the harmony of creation. And when they finally received a part they could sing, it only unleashed within them a chorus that supplemented the grand symphony of the universe, and echoed Mary’s love in today’s gospel reading:
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
