Lectionary Commentaries for January 11, 2026
Baptism of Our Lord (Year A)

Commentary for this text is forthcoming.

In Isaiah 42:1–9, God presents the servant as “my chosen, in whom my soul delights” and gives him the charge to bring justice to nations (verse 1). The servant executes this task nonviolently: He does not cry aloud, nor does he crush those already at the breaking point, but continues his work until justice is established throughout the world (literally, “in the coastlands”). God then reaffirms the servant’s mission by giving him as a “covenant to the people, a light to the nations” (verse 6). With a resounding series of epithets proclaiming God’s glory, the unit concludes with God’s declaration that “former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare” (verse 9). 

The lectionary’s pairing of this reading with the account of Jesus’ baptism in Matthew creates intriguing resonances. Both the servant and Jesus are beloved of God, and in each case, their appearance is marked with the gift of God’s Spirit. Also, in each case, their work marks the beginning of a new era of salvation. The parallels are so intriguing that the servant in Isaiah is often understood as a kind of precursor or foreshadowing of Jesus. 

Salvation is clearly the theme in both texts; the question is, who is the agent of salvation in Isaiah 42? Specifically, are we to understand the servant as a unique individual, like Jesus? Although the Christian answer to that question has usually been a firm “yes,” there is abundant evidence in Isaiah 40–55 to indicate that the servant is Israel, the covenant people of God. 

Throughout Isaiah 40–44, the term “servant” signifies Israel’s unique covenantal relationship with God. As such, it is often employed in connection with expressions of divine favor. God calls, chooses, and strengthens Israel (41:8–10); does not forget Israel (44:21); guides and directs the course of human events for Israel’s sake (45:4); and, most importantly, declares God’s love for Israel (43:3). 

These aspects of God’s love and care for Israel are repeated in Isaiah 42:1. The servant is God’s chosen one, in whom God’s very being delights. God reaffirms this commitment in verse 6. God has called the servant in “righteousness,” a term indicating that God has acted in fulfillment of the commitment God made long ago, to be in covenant relationship with Jacob/Israel. 

To be sure, Israel is also presented as weak, in despair, and doubting God’s presence, even to the point of complaining of divine mistreatment:

Why do you say, O Jacob,
          and assert, O Israel,
“My way is hidden from the Lord,
          and my right [mispati] is disregarded by my God”? (40:27)

Elsewhere, God draws attention to Israel’s unfaithfulness (43:22–24), as well as to Israel’s inability to perceive the ways of God (42:18–25).  

Even so, it is this servant whom God calls to “bring forth” justice to the nations. This expression, “bring forth justice,” occurs twice in this unit and appears to be illustrated by the servant’s actions in verses 2–3. The expression is unusual, since it implies that justice is already present, though perhaps hidden from view. 

Although the servant is introduced in verse 1 with royal language, his task is not to establish justice through royal fiat or decree. Not only does he not speak with royal authority; he does not speak at all. In verse 2, for example, he does not cry out or lift up his voice. Such an outcry can be understood as a demand for justice, as in 40:27, quoted above. Such cries of protest are well known in the biblical complaint tradition (see, for example, Psalm 22:1; Jeremiah 15:10–21; Habakkuk 1:2–4).  

Such a cry is characteristic of a petitioner making a complaint, not of a king or judge ruling on that complaint. The servant’s right to cry out may also be reflected in verses 3–4, which employ the imagery of bruised reeds and dimly burning wicks to characterize the vulnerability of those who have reached a breaking point. Although the New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition’s translation of verse 3 obscures this point, the servant shares this vulnerability but, nevertheless, silently and patiently perseveres: “He does not burn dimly, nor is he broken.” 

The servant’s acceptance of his situation without either complaint or recrimination is presented as an example of how he “brings forth justice.” Although the poem does not explain how this passive silence does that, his actions do not take the form of blaming, recrimination, or retaliation. Perhaps the quelling of complaint allows other voices, other perspectives, to be heard and creates space for the emergence of new insights, even perhaps into the ways of God. Previously impervious to God’s defense of the “former things,” Servant Israel’s silence now creates the space for new understanding. 

These insights are the theme of the second stanza in the poem. Subtle differences in language and style between verses 1–4 and 5–9 have led some interpreters to suggest that the latter verses were composed as commentary and interpretation of the former. These latter verses emphasize the uniqueness of Israel’s covenant with God in two ways. First, the stanza underscores the importance of Israel’s status as God’s beloved by exalting God as creator of the heavens and the earth. It is this God who calls, sustains, and keeps Israel. 

Second, the stanza boldly articulates a new vision and meaning of the covenant by declaring that Israel does not have a covenant with God so much as it is God’s covenant to the nations (berit ‘am, verse 6b). As such, Israel exists for the sake of the nations, serving as their light and thereby illuminating the ways of God in the world. In contrast to the systems of power and domination that have subjected the peoples of the nations to diaspora and dissolution, this Servant Israel becomes a testimony to another way to forge a cohesive communal identity besides the acquisition of power and control.

If this servant poem has any links with the Christian message, it is by way of a new understanding of the meaning and purpose of God’s covenant with Israel, the descendants of Jacob. The link is less with Jesus himself than with his message. No longer a kingdom seeking to share or imitate the power of the nations, Servant Israel begins to chart another, nonviolent way in the world. Servant Israel is, in effect, salt and light, the leaven in the lump, a messenger bearing silent witness to another realm of justice and right. Israel knows this before the world does; as God says, “New things I now declare; / before they spring forth, / I tell you of them.”

Psalm 29 is classified as a Community Hymn, but is often considered an Enthronement Psalm because of its striking similarities with Psalms 93–99.¹

Enthronement Psalms are those that celebrate God’s sovereign reign over the world, and a cursory reading of Psalm 29 (see especially verse 10) reveals the reasons why such a designation may be appropriate.

Many scholars posit that Psalm 29 is one of the earliest Hebrew psalm compositions, an adaptation and/or incorporation of various elements of hymns to Baal, the Canaanite fertility and weather god. But Psalm 29 borrows those elements and “turns them on their heads.” The message of Psalm 29 is that Yahweh, not Baal, is the God whom the Israelites can rely on to rule over creation and provide peace (better, well-being) for the land and the people. How, then, does the singer of Psalm 29 present the case for Yahweh?

In the first two verses of the psalm, the word “ascribe” (New Revised Standard Version) occurs three times. The Hebrew word is yahab and means “give,” suggesting perhaps a better translation of “acknowledge.” The psalmist calls upon hearers to acknowledge the Lord, the Lord’s glory and strength, and the glory of the Lord’s name. The hearers who are called to acknowledge the Lord in verse 1 are “heavenly beings” (New Revised Standard Version), in Hebrew beney ‘elohim (children of god). The identity of this group is open to question and interpretation.

Some maintain that the words refer to a “divine, heavenly council” (see Job 1:6). Others—and in the context of Psalm 29, very plausibly—assert that the call issued in verse 1 is to Canaanite gods and goddesses to recognize Yahweh as the true god. And yet others suggest that the call is to a “heavenly choir,” who then will lead the “earthly congregation” in praise of the sovereign God.

Verses 3–9 speak seven times of the “voice of the LORD” (qol yhwh) as sovereign over or emanating out of the waters and mighty waters, the lightning and thunder, the cedars of Lebanon, the flames of fire, the earthquake, and the mighty wind, as we see also in the Enthronement Psalms 93–99. All of these natural phenomena are elements of theophany experiences (appearances of the presence of God) in the Old Testament, such as we see in Genesis 15, Exodus 3 and 19, 1 Kings 19, and Ezekiel 1.

These passages tell us that God is present in all of the magnificent, awe-inspiring, and sometimes terrifying elements of creation. But as we see in the story of Elijah’s encounter with God in 1 Kings 19, sometimes God is present in “a sheer silence” (New Revised Standard Version), what some of us have learned as a “still small voice.” The central message of Psalm 29, thus, is that Yahweh God is sovereign and that God’s reign extends to all creation in all its manifestations.

Verse 10 announces, according to the New Revised Standard Version, that Yahweh “sits enthroned over the flood,” that Yahweh “sits enthroned as king forever.” The word translated “sits enthroned” is yashab in Hebrew and means simply to sit, to dwell, to settle down, to occupy. God sits or dwells over the earth and dwells or settles down in the midst of the people as sovereign. The first and only mention of humankind in Psalm 29 is in verse 11—“May the LORD bless his people with peace [shalom].” As with so many of the Enthronement Psalms, humanity is not the focus; rather, the focus is on God’s sovereignty.

While Psalm 29 may have been a call to the Canaanite gods and goddesses, particularly Baal, to observe and acknowledge God’s sovereignty over all creation, it is also a sober reminder to humanity of our place within the created order. In Genesis 1, God says to the first humans, “Be fruitful and multiply … subdue the earth … have dominion …” And the ever-enduring, ever-present question is, “Should we interpret these words as permission to do with creation as we like, to use it for the sole good of humanity? Or do the words give humanity a special responsibility to care for creation as God would care for it?

Richard Bauckham, in a book titled The Bible and Ecology, writes:

Cosmic humility is a much-needed ecological virtue. We need the humility to recognize that our place in the world is a limited one. We need the humility to “walk more lightly upon the Earth, with more regard for the life around us.” We need the humility to recognize the unforeseeable risks of technology before we ruin the world in pursuit of technological fixes to all our problems. We need the humility to know ourselves as creatures within creation, not gods over creation, the humility of knowing that only God is God.²

The Enthronement Psalms in general and Psalm 29 in particular ought to make us stop and consider, remind us of God’s sovereignty over God’s good creation, and indeed, invoke in us a little “cosmic humility.” The message of Psalm 29 may best be summed up in the closing words of the Lord’s Prayer: “For thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.”

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for January 8, 2017.
2. Richard Bauckham, The Bible and Ecology (Baylor University Press, 2010), 46.

We used to host traveling evangelists in our home, each one coming at the invitation of my father. As a pastor of the Baptist Church, he was charged with inviting a preacher and song leader to come to our church and conduct revival meetings once or twice a year. 

They were quite a cast of fascinating characters, each one having a slightly different style. One was a Powhatan chief, another was a quiet professorial type, still another modeled his message and style after Billy Graham. 

Once, one came who was a much younger man. As I remember him, he was rather stern and standoffish in his demeanor. Hoping for some conversation, I timidly asked him that question I’d asked all the others: “What are you going to preach about?” He looked up from his coffee. “Jesus,” he said, then returned to his coffee. That was it—Jesus. 

Peter is the traveling evangelist in this text. He receives an invitation to preach, but it comes under the strangest of circumstances. When the invitation comes, Peter is struggling with the meaning of a dream he’s just had. He had gone up to the roof of his host Simon the Tanner’s house to pray. Then he became hungry and asked for something to eat. While the meal was getting prepared, he became drowsy, took a nap, and dreamed. 

In his dream, heaven opened up and something like a large sheet came down, somehow held by its four corners. All kinds of birds, snakes, and other animals were moving around on the sheet. Then a voice said to him, “Peter, get up! Kill and eat!” But Peter didn’t wake up. Instead, he heard his dreaming self say, “Absolutely not! Those are unclean and not fit to eat!” Then the voice said, “When God says it’s fit to eat, don’t say it isn’t!” To make sure he got the point, that dream happened three times! 

Needless to say, the dream and the command he heard in it are a shock to Peter’s theological system, which, at its core, teaches that the Jews, Peter’s own people, are God’s “chosen,” to whom God shows partiality. Jesus was sent by God to his fellow Jews, Peter believes, and his words were for them! After the dream, Peter learns that three strangers have arrived at the front gate requesting an audience. Now the prime mover of the story, the Holy Spirit, tells him what to do. “Go greet them and go with them.”

When Peter does greet them, he learns that these three have come from a man named Cornelius, a centurion with the Italian cohort. That means they have come from a household in the very heart of the Roman oppressors’ realm—the Roman capital of Judea! The three men must sense his apprehension because they rush to assure Peter that Cornelius is “well-spoken of by the whole Jewish nation” as a “God-fearer” and “alms-giver” (10:22). 

For Peter, when the Spirit says go, you go! Along the way, he must have been thinking, “What will I preach about to these gentiles?” The text for today makes that clear—Jesus. Peter’s focus is on the conviction that Jesus is “God’s anointed” (verse 38), meaning that God “was with him” as he went about healing, delivering those oppressed by “the devil,” and restoring people’s relationship with God by forgiving sins. Jesus’ resurrection from the dead is God’s profound “YES!” to Jesus’ life and ministry. Matthew’s gospel text for today remembers the beginning of that ministry—Jesus’ baptism by John. 

Peter’s sermon to Cornelius and his household serves this liturgical occasion by providing an overview of the story into which each Christian is baptized. It also suggests how becoming part of that story can change us. Peter begins his sermon with a testimony about how the Spirit changed him. “I truly understand that God shows no partiality,” he says, “but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (verse 34).

Baptism ritualizes this gospel of acceptance and inclusion. Whether it is a child brought by her parents to the font or a teenager or adult stepping down into a pool, baptism offers a glimpse of the far-reaching effect of God’s grace. The text that follows this one in Acts opens the lens even further. Even before Peter is finished speaking, the Holy Spirit is “poured out even among the gentiles” (verse 45). Imagine that! Those thought to be outside of God’s grace “get it” and are included in God’s story. 

Imagine yourself preaching a sermon this week on how the Holy Spirit used the story of Jesus and his ministry to change your life. When was it that you finally “got it”? What was it that led you to take the vows that you did when you were baptized? Or what led you to confirm the vows that were made on your behalf? How has living into the promises God made to you when you were baptized changed the way you look at the world?

This story from Acts tells us that something was stirring in the mind and heart of Cornelius that led him to call for Peter to come. When Peter arrived, Cornelius asked the questions that many of our congregants are too shy to ask us: “What is it that you believe, and why do you believe it?” Peter might have worried about how he would be received. Would he be getting too personal with these strangers? Would he be misunderstood? Then what? Nevertheless, he took the risk and decided to preach about what Jesus meant to him. Perhaps it’s time we do the same.