When life gets tough––

when the world seems to be spiralling out of control––

what is it that gets you out of bed in the morning?

What is it that helps you to face another day?

Is it some past memory of a happier time?

Generally…

I would imagine…

it would be something that you look forward to; 

something that you hope for.

That is, of course, how “hope” works for us humans.

Hope is an anticipation that––

whatever crap we are dealing with now––

it’s going to get better.

Sometimes, it will be something quite generic and diffuse.

Sometimes, it will be something quite specific.

This time, last year, many of us were hoping that––

with a Covid-vaccination looming––

life would return to some semblance of normality.

But, in this New Year, with those hopes seemingly dashed…

many are finding it harder.

Maybe, now, people are clinging to the hope––

suggested by some of the early signs––

that Omicron might be slightly milder than its predecessors…

and that boosters will help get us through it.

 

If we’re honest, though, “hope” is…

so often…

fleeting and illusory.

So often it can be little more than wishful thinking…

or a delusionary aspiration that isn’t grounded in reality.

And, of course, the bigger, the grander the hope…

and the more complicated the context…

the more likely it is to be misguided.

Hoping that–– 

at the start of this year––

the pandemic would be over fits into that category.

It ignores the global spread of the disease;

the changeable nature of the virus…

the gross inequalities in the world that contribute to the development of new mutations;

the limitations of vaccines themselves;

and the limitations of human reason and willingness to comply…

and do what’s in everyone’s best interest.

And perhaps…

sometimes…

we need to be encouraged––

gently–– 

to find smaller glimmers of light in the darkness…

in which to place our hope.

 

Almost six hundred years before Jesus’ birth…

some of the Israelites had returned to Jerusalem from the Exile.

They returned to a city and a country in ruins––

physically, economically, and spiritually.

They struggled to survive.

And they struggled to rebuild their lives…

and the city…

and, of course, the Temple.

It was hard going.

It would seem that there were tensions and conflicts caused by different priorities and agendas.

And, it would seem, some of them felt like they had been abandoned––

that God was absent or apathetic.

It was into this context that our prophet––

writing under the name of “Isaiah”––

sought to kindle a sense of hope.

And what he offered them was a grand vision of the future.

He called upon Jerusalem to shake off its despondency…

and to stand tall…

because this was the beginning of God’s new dawn.

When Jerusalem and its Temple were rebuilt…

then God’s light would once again shine in their world.

But…

more than that…

they would so manifest God’s light that they would be a beacon to the whole world.

And, here, in our reading, he offers a vision of people––

from every nation and race––

streaming to Jerusalem to pay homage to God…

and…

bringing with them…

“the abundance of the sea” and “the wealth of the nations”.

And, while he anticipates this bounty being brought to honour Israel’s God…

the people of Israel would, of course, be the direct beneficiaries.

And… 

in anticipating the rulers and people from all the nations…

streaming to Jerusalem to offer homage and pay tribute to Israel’s God… 

he was…

effectively… 

anticipating that they would be coming to offer fealty to Israel’s God.

In other words… 

what the prophet was anticipating was a total reversal of Israel’s fortunes.

He anticipated a time when Israel would be supreme among the nations.

You could say that his vision was a call to “Make Israel Great Again”!

But it was similarly misguided and delusionary.

While Jerusalem and its Temple would eventually be rebuilt…

the people of Israel would never be supreme among the nations––

indeed, they largely remained a vassal state: 

first, under Persian control…

then conquered by the Macedonians…

then passing into the Ptolemaic Dynasty…

and then the Seleucid Empire.

And, after a period of semi-autonomy, they were then conquered by the Romans.

In the end, the rebuilt Temple would be destroyed––

never again to be rebuilt––

and the wealth of the land, and its peoples, would be carried off to Rome…

not the other way around.

 

The author of Matthew’s Gospel––

a strongly Hebrew writer…

writing for a Hebrew-dominant community––

took that broad vision of this “later-Isaiah”…

and constructed his story of Jesus’ infancy upon it.

And…

in his imaginative re-working…

he effectively subverts the prophet’s vision.

Rather than the rulers and peoples of every nation streaming to Jerusalem––

en masse––

we have a small band of foreign priests…

who stumble their way there…

but who are lured by the prospect of a new king––

not a glorious God-infused city––

only to discover a child born in poverty and obscurity.

And, while some older translations say that they “worshipped” him…

the Greek better translates as “paid obeisance”.

And that’s really no more than a respectful gesture––

like a bow…

or, at most, a prostration.

It’s certainly not an act of political fealty––

let alone religious worship. 

And this small bunch of foreign priests bring tokenistic gifts…

of “gold and frankincense” and myrrh––

which they offer almost matter-of-factly…

and somewhat surreptitiously.

And, as the author of Matthew’s Gospel concocts this story…

their visit has little real or lasting impact on the nation as a whole––

leaving aside the further story that he concocts to relocate Jesus to Egypt…

and then back to Israel again.

Compared to the prophet’s original vision it’s so completely underwhelming.

 

And maybe that’s the point!

 

God seldom breaks into our world in a dramatic way.

It’s usually small…

subtle…

even insidious.

Sometimes you have to look really hard to see it.

And maybe the point is that hope…

for us––

real hope––

never comes to us, or never starts out, as a blazing beacon of light.

It’s a fragile, flickering glow in the darkness…

which…

if we’re not looking or we’re not careful…

we may never see or nurture.

 

And yet…

ultimately…

I don’t think that’s the only thing that this story has to teach us––

and it’s perhaps not even the most important thing.

Just like the prophet’s grand vision…

the Gospel writer’s version is also paternalistic and parochial.

Albeit on a smaller scale, he still expects people to come to Judaea…

and to come to Jesus…

in order to find hope and new life.

But the whole point of the incarnation––

surely––

is that God reaches out to us––

meeting us where we are––

in order to offer us hope.

 

So…

without meaning to…

perhaps this story is teaching us that hope––

if it is to be real hope for all people­––

can never be parochial…

let alone selfish… 

or self-focussed.

And maybe that’s the light that we need to focus on in our current darkness.