+ A sermon for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany (Year A) at Central Lutheran Church of the Holy Trinity, Seattle, WA on January 25, 2026 +

Text: Isaiah 9:1-4; Matthew 4:12-23

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“The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”
We heard these words twice this morning—first from the Prophet Isaiah and then as Matthew’s gospel connects Jesus’ ministry to that ancient oracle.
And the subject of this prophecy, the lands of Zebulun and Naphtali, are admittedly obscure.
These two small regions weren’t exactly highlights on the ancient map, but they were the homes of two of the Tribes of Israel, named after two of Jacob’s sons.
On the fringe of Israelite territory, they were the first parts of the northern kingdom to be conquered, oppressively occupied by the Assyrian kings during Isaiah’s time; home to a people who were suffering under the weight of a foreign empire.
And it was to these forgotten tribes that Isaiah promised that the darkness, the gloom, of Assyrian oppression would not be their ultimate destiny, because the only ruler with ultimate authority is not a foreign king or emperor, but God.
That their faithful God would restore them to life, would shine light into the darkness of their despair, and would save them from their enemies.

700 years after Isaiah’s promise, Jesus makes his way to Zebulun and Nephtali—also called Galilee.
Seven centuries later, though the Assyrian Empire was long gone, the people were still living in the darkness of oppression.
The collapse of the Assyrians hadn’t ultimately liberated them but had left them to be ruled over by a gloomy succession of foreign powers: the Babylonians, the Egyptians, the Persians, the Greeks, and, by Jesus’ time, the Romans, all claiming dominance of these tiny territories.
It’s to these lands of darkness where Jesus, the Light of the world, travels.
It’s there, where imperial rule is so strong that Emmanuel, God with us, makes his home.
And, like Isaiah so long before him, Jesus would proclaim that the oppressive rulers would not prevail, because even in those seemingly forsaken regions, even under the gloom of Roman imperialism, God had never abandoned them but was—and is—doing something new.
God was shining forth a new light that would bring about God’s dominion here on Earth, breaking the chains of injustice and calling the people to freedom and liberation, just as God continues to do today.
Jesus begins his public ministry using the same words we heard from John the Baptizer, John the Forerunner, proclaiming, “Repent, for the dominion of heaven has come near.”

Now, the word we have translated as “dominion” in today’s text is basileia in the original Greek.
Basileia can be translated several different ways, including “rule,” “reign,” “kingdom,” or even “empire.”
Matthean scholar Professor Warren Carter contends that Jesus’ use of basileia is an intentional rebuttal of empires like Rome, systems that clung to power through military might, that saw people as mere resources for exploitation, that dehumanized and degraded the many for the benefit of the few.[1]
That while the people would have known exactly how the empires of this world operate, Jesus, as he does so often, is revolutionizing the concept and proclaiming a new form of empire.
He is calling them to repent, to turn away from the status quo of oppression, away from the gloom of the established order, and reorient their hearts and minds to the new thing God is doing in their midst.
Jesus is intentionally imitating the language of empire so he can redefine it away from an oppressive structure and into the new basileia his ministry is embodying.
Not an empire of the lands and seas that dominates the people, but the eternal empire in heaven, which Jesus has come to establish on earth, whose reality we see through his work, whose hallmark is healing and liberation and new life.
Jesus goes to a people who have been living in the darkness of oppression, the gloom of domination, and bears the light of hope, of salvation, of a new beginning revealed in him.

Now, I get that this language of empire may not resonate with us the way it would with the original hearers; that if Jesus came to the United States today, he might proclaim a new republic or something like that.
And it’s only natural that our imagery and language of God is contextualized so it is accessible and relatable for us; that then and now, Christians have used our own perspectives and familiarities to see ourselves within God’s everlasting promises.
But the power of Jesus’ message is as groundbreaking now as it was then: that a new way is possible, that the empires of this world will indeed pass away.
And Jesus will herald the same promise Isaiah proclaimed centuries before: that God has come to shine light into the darkness of despair, to save us from our enemies, and to bring us all into the new world that is taking root on earth as it already is in heaven.

Jesus then calls out to two sets of brothers, four fishermen, to follow in this new way; and remarkably, they instantly heed his call.
Their immediate willingness to follow has always baffled me:
Was Jesus especially charismatic?
Could they tell that he was divine?
Were they so desperate for liberation that they would leave everything they had behind to try something new?
Professor Carter writes that Andrew and Simon, James and John, were “embedded in the imperial economy. Rome asserted control over the land and sea, their production, and the transportation and marketing of their yields with contracts and taxes. Jesus disrupts these men’s lives, calls them to a different loyalty and way of life, creates a new community, and gives them a new mission (fish for people). His summons exhibits God’s empire at work, this light shining in the darkness of Roman-ruled Galilee.”[2]
These four fishers left their families, left their livelihoods, left any sense of security, left everything they knew and followed.
They would be the first of countless women and men who would heed Christ’s call to trust that the empires of this world would not have the final say because God is doing something new in their midst; establishing an everlasting empire promotes the dignity and humanity of each and every person.
These first four disciples eagerly and fundamentally changed their lives so they could partner with God, shrug off the oppressive forces that surrounded them, and live into the new heavenly empire that was dawning.

27 centuries after Isaiah, two millennia after Jesus walked the shores of Galilee, we can hear those ancient words resonating again in our day: “The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”
I’ve felt the darkness of these days, my friends.
I’ve seen the gloom in the faces of this congregation in the past few weeks and months.
And while we may not use the words of empire today to describe the present regime—no matter how analogous we are to the Romans of Jesus’ day—we have seen how the rulers of this world are using all their might to maintain their grip on power.
How they dehumanize and degrade us, using us as pawns in their quest to amass fortune and influence.
How they threaten the peace and safety of the world to claim more territorial conquests.
How they abduct innocent people, murder a mother and then a nurse in the streets, use a preschooler as bait to arrest his parents all so they can bolster their authority.
These empires thrive on fear, on sewing divisions among us so we feel isolated and alone, on telling us that the only way we can survive is to swallow the myth of individualism through self-preservation and hardening our hearts.

But Jesus comes to us again in this dark time to remind us that these earthly empires will fall and God’s reign will last forever.
That the powers of this world are in rebellion against God and the actions of this regime and ICE are fundamentally antithetical to the divine empire Jesus embodies.
That the rulers of this world will always fail in their quest for increasing and eternal power because Jesus has come to inaugurate the Basileia of Heaven—God’s perfect dominion, God’s new community, which has come near and is growing and flourishing until all people can rest securely in its promise; until the nations of this world finally reflect what is already in place in heaven.
And Jesus calls us again this morning to repent, to turn away from the way things are, to leave behind our current ways of living, and use all we have to strive towards God’s vision of life and love.
And that means that we pray for those in power, for those agents of empire, just as we pray for all who have been called to follow Jesus—that we all might repent to follow the way of Jesus, to turn from the systems of this world and live into God’s new reality, that we may truly be worthy to be called Christians.

Jesus reminds us that part of embracing this new empire, part of living into God’s dominion, means loving and serving our neighbors without reserve.
And we’ve seen that on display in Minnesota these past few weeks as the gloom descended upon them, as people have come together to resist the machinations of this regime, to put themselves at risk as they stand up for the persecuted, and to bravely raise their voices for justice and righteousness to reign.
Their witness inspires us, reminds us of what it means to live our faith and put it into action.
But that faithfulness doesn’t need to be only through grand gestures either.
The empires of the world hate the gentleness and generosity of love.
And it feels fitting to mention that today, on Reconciling in Christ Sunday, we remember that loving our community can also be something as simple as reminding our persecuted Queer and Trans siblings that they are loved and cherished and worthy—by God and by us.
That being a Christian, loving and serving our neighbor, is in itself radical resistance to the forces of this world who would seek to divide us.

On that day in Galilee, there’s no way that these four ordinary fishermen could have known what they were getting themselves into.
Lutheran pastor and martyr to another empire St. Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote that when Christ a person, he calls them to die.
Calls them to die to the way things are.
Calls them to die to the empires of this world.
Calls them to die so they can follow Christ.
And my friends, following the way of Jesus will only and always lead us to one place: the cross.
But even when the empire thinks they’ve prevailed on the day of his crucifixion, Christ reveals the certain victory of the Empire of Heaven as he rises triumphant from the grave.
And these four ordinary fishers would see firsthand how the empires of this world crumble and fall as the Resurrection takes hold.

Because this invitation to discipleship isn’t just about the hardships, this is pure gospel.
This is good news inviting these fishermen to experience the fullness of God’s love, to be ambassadors of that love, to bring this gospel message to their friends and neighbors and to people they’ve never met; to bear witness to the great victory of God’s never-ending love.
And in their courageous act, their decision to follow, these four disciples—and all who would come after them—would transform the world, proclaiming the good news of God’s love for all people, and partnering with Christ to build up the dominion of heaven that has come so near.

Last night, after the murder of Alex Pretti by ICE agents, Minnesotans and people across the country lit candles to battle against the darkness that is desperately trying to take hold.
During this time when we may feel powerless, I am reminded of the words we say to each child of God as they arise from the waters of their baptism.
We hand them a candle lit from the Paschal candle—the visible representation of Christ’s resurrection life—and say, “Let your light so shine.”
Let your light shine so God’s glory may be seen.
Let your light shine so God’s new and perfect reign may radiate through you.
Let your light shine because, as strong as the darkness may seem, it cannot overcome even the light of one small candle, one small faithful witness to the Light of the World.

On this day, in these gloomy times, here in Capitol Hill, Jesus is calling to us again, ‘Come, follow me. Use your gifts to proclaim the love of God for all people and see where it will take you.
Come, proclaim your trust in the love that will conquer all evil to a people yearning for this promise.
Come, venture into the unknown and see the amazing things that we can do together, seeing what God is doing in our midst.
Come, resist the dehumanizing ways of oppression and empire and claim your citizenship in God’s reign of life and love.
Come, leave behind the things that hold you back and see how the dominion of heaven is near, and is shining through all the gloom.
Come, die to the ways things are so you can live in me and build up the new world on earth as it already is in heaven. Come and follow me.’

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[1] Warren Carter on Working Preacher, January 22, 2017. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-after-epiphany/commentary-on-matthew-412-23-3

[2] Ibid.