Epiphany 3A
January 25, 2026
Matthew 4:12-23
INTRODUCTION
Last week we heard John’s story about Jesus calling Peter and Andrew, the first disciples. Today we’ll hear Matthew’s version of the same event (which is actually considerably different!). Now, Matthew’s audience is primarily Jewish, and so you will often see him framing events as a fulfillment of Hebrew scripture (“This was to fulfill what the prophet said”). We’ll hear the scripture Matthew refers to as our first reading today, a text from Isaiah that you may remember from Christmas Eve. Matthew’s mention of the location of Jesus’ ministry makes it clear that Jesus is in territory that is occupied by Rome, and in the fishing village of Capernaum of Galilee. And just as God came to the Israelites in Isaiah’s time, when Assyria was the oppressor de jour, God comes in the person of Jesus to Galilee, where the oppressor is now Rome.
Another thing to remember – one of the themes in Matthew is his use of the name, “Emmanuel,” God-with-us. So all this geographical stuff hits home the point that there is no territory or situation that is off-limits for God. God is with us, as our light and our salvation, and will come to us whoever is in charge, wherever we may be, whatever we are doing. Whether we are living under oppressive rule, as in Isaiah, or dealing with intra-church conflict, like the congregation Paul is writing to in Corinth, or even today, as we deal with whatever it is we are dealing with. That is a recurring theme throughout Matthew: that God is Emmanuel, God with us, no matter what. Let’s listen.
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| Faith leaders compelled by their faith to stand (or kneel) with immigrants at MSP airport. |
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen
I had a completely different sermon all ready to preach for you today. It was about evangelism, and what it looks like to be fishers of people.
But I have also, like I know many of you, been following the news, especially for the past 48 hours. Maybe you saw in the news how hundreds of faith leaders came to Minneapolis on Thursday and Friday, compelled by their faith to stand with immigrants and refugees, whom scripture tells us repeatedly to welcome and care for. Some engaged in acts of civil disobedience, in the tradition of Martin Luther King, Jr., and were arrested at the airport from which so many have been deported, even as the clergy sang hymns and prayed aloud the Lord’s Prayer.
Maybe you also saw on the news thousands of Minnesotans marching through Minneapolis, a city with a rich immigrant community, in temperatures well below zero, demanding their streets back from federal agents who have been terrorizing them and their neighbors – including children as young as preschoolers and even a 6-month-old, and an elderly naturalized citizen. Maybe you didn’t understand why people were marching, or maybe you were inspired by their devoted patriotism, or impressed by the fact that with so many thousands of people there were no arrests, because it was entirely peaceful.
Whatever feeling you had about Friday’s event, maybe it was completely shattered by the news yesterday about the death of 37-year-old ICU nurse, Alex Pretti. I won’t recount the details here. But I encourage you, if you haven’t already, to watch the videos for yourself. I know it is difficult, but what I’m hearing from my friends and colleagues on the ground in Minneapolis is, “Please don’t look away from what is happening. Amplify the stories of the people here. We are scared, and angry. We are also stepping up to help each other – we are Minnesotans after all, and being nice is our nature – but we are terrified and exhausted, and we need you not to ignore what is happening here.”
My heart aches, my friends. I have shed tears, as I know many of you have as well, for our neighbors in Minnesota, and especially those who are immigrants, most of whom are contributing members of their communities, not committing crimes, certainly not violent ones, and are just going about their lives. I have both friends and family in the Twin Cities, some of whom are immigrants; this feels really close.
Each week, I try to get up here and talk about what our faith has to say about the state of being human. Sometimes this means talking about our personal struggles, of which there are plenty. Sometimes I offer instruction on a life of faith – that’s what my sermon on being fishers of people would have done. And sometimes, I try to do as 20th century theologian Karl Barth suggested, and hold the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other, and try to make sense of the news through the lens of scripture. That’s what I’m going to do today.
I have much to say about this, much more than will fit in a 12 minute sermon. I’ve thought about it a lot, though I haven’t been very successful at putting my own thoughts into words, at least not written ones. But here’s what I’ve got for you:
Today, we hear Matthew’s version of the calling of the first disciples. Jesus has just learned his cousin, John the Baptist, is in prison. John had spoken up to the ruling authorities (namely, King Herod) about the king’s ungodly behavior, and gotten himself arrested for it. (Hm, hard not to picture those faith leaders at the airport... Standing up to those in power, it seems, sometimes has this consequence!)
After settling in Galilee, Jesus begins his ministry, calling his first disciples – two pairs of fishermen. All four of them drop their nets and immediately begin to follow Jesus.
Out of these few verses, I have a couple of questions for you: First, what do you personally need to leave behind, what nets do you need to drop, in order to follow Jesus? Maybe you need to drop a previous world view or understanding. I can relate to that. Maybe you need to let go of fear – that one is definitely true for me! I admit it is why I am preaching a bit bolder sermon today. I’m trying to leave behind my fear. Or maybe you need to leave behind your blinders – this one is also true for me. I’d so often rather avoid painful realities than have to face them! What do you need to leave behind? What is keeping you from living fully into your identity as a disciple of Christ, who loved indiscriminately, who cared for the outsider, who spoke truth to power and was killed by the government for doing so?
Okay, once we’ve dropped our proverbial nets, the next question is, what does it then look like to follow Jesus today, in today’s world with today’s challenges and heartbreaks? How are you actively following Jesus in this moment?
In thinking about my friends’ and colleagues’ pleas not to look away, I can’t help but think that part of following Jesus is exactly that: to follow Jesus, even into the pain, and be willing to see the suffering of our neighbor in need. It would be… maybe not easy, but at least possible to ignore the news and go about our business. It would be easy to choose which version of the story best fits our preferred reality, and close our ears to anything uncomfortable. But our neighbors who are suffering and scared are asking us not to do that. And so sometimes the way to follow Jesus is to follow him into the places of suffering – if not physically, then at least with our hearts, our awareness, our prayers, our phone calls and letters, and if it is possible, our checkbooks. There are many funds set up to help people in harm’s way get basic necessities. If you are so inclined to give, and aren’t sure how, here are some links.
How else might it look to be a follower of Jesus in this particular moment? Are you willing to do it?
I have been very moved, in watching videos of protests in Minneapolis, by how many of them include singing (probably because there are so many Lutherans in Minnesota!). One song in particular that I’ve heard a couple of times goes like this:
H-o-o-old on… ho-o-ld o-o-on. My dear ones. He-e-re comes the dawn.
What a beautiful expression of love of neighbor. Here are people who are doing their best to put love in action. Some of them are Christians, even Lutherans, who are driven by their faith to be out there in frigid temperatures to show care for their immigrant neighbors, and they are singing, in harmony, “Hold on dear ones.” I love it so much. But I especially love that last line. “Here comes the dawn.” That, my friends, is what we call hope.
Did you notice the reference to the dawn in the Gospel reading today? Quoting Isaiah, it says, “The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death, light has dawned.”
Dawn – the time of hope and newness. The time of possibility. Dawn is the time the women came to the tomb to find that the teacher they had followed, who had been hung on a cross and buried, had been raised. Dawn is the time of resurrection, of new life.
We followers of Christ can be a part of that dawn, that hope. Following in Christ’s footsteps, we can fiercely and relentlessly love our neighbors, especially those in the most need. We can keep our eyes open to see the suffering. We can put our hands, hearts, phones, pens, and checkbooks to work.
And we can do all of this assured that God can, and will, bring about the dawn. God always does. Just hold on.
Please pray with me: Hold on. Hold on, my dear ones. Here comes the dawn.
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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