The kingdom of God is justice and peace : Epiphany Sunday, 2026
My sermon text this morning is from Matthew, but the reading from Isaiah is no coincidence — it forms an essential backdrop for the story of the wise men. And not chapter 60, only, but many passages that we’ve read in recent weeks. Repeatedly, we’ve heard scripture tell us that the reign of God on earth will be known by astonishing peace and benevolence:
The lion will lie down with the lamb.
The wolf will eat straw like the ox.
The little child will play on the den of the adder unscathed.
There will be no destruction or harm in the holy city of God,
For the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the sea is full of water.
The boots of war will be burned,
The yoke of oppression will be shattered,
And the name of God’s chosen ruler will be
Prince of Peace.
Isaiah describes this reign and this ruler and says — the light of this peace is not only for the people of Israel - it is a light to all people.
This morning we read as much — that a light has dawned, that “all nations” will be drawn to it, will seek it out, and long to participate in it, and long to receive from it.
Keep this vision of peace in mind, because the gospel writer, Matthew, understands Jesus as the fulfillment of these prophecies. Matthew is telling us — Jesus is the Prince of Peace. Jesus’s kingdom will be made known through the shattering of oppressions, the renunciation of violence, and the presence of peace-making.
And not only for the people around him, but for all people.
For the desire for peace, true peace, peace born from the establishment of justice and equity, peace that decides in favor of the poor, is something that people the world over long for. Did then, and still do now.
In other words, a sign of God’s peaceful kingdom is that it is expansive, shining as a refuge and an example for all who thirst, and for all who wisely search for it, and trust in this promise.
The magi enter the story, not only as proof of the importance of Jesus as a person, but as truly wise men who perceive where God’s goodness resides - and where it is absent.
The magi were astrologers, likely Zoroastrian priests from a country in what is now Iran. They perceived the rising of an important new ruler through the alignments of heavenly bodies and star charts, and they set out to determine what it all meant, and to pay honor to the new king. But when they arrived in Judea, they learned that Hebrew prophecies located the birth of the Messiah in Bethlehem, departed from King Herod, and continued on their way.
I wonder if the magi knew then what we know now. That not only did the heavens declare the arrival of Christ, but that the nature of Jesus’s life and ministry would fulfill, and demonstrate, the prophecies about peace that show us where and how God is present. Herod, of course, could not fathom such a thing as a humble ruler, or peaceable holiness. He was a puppet of Rome, propped up by overwhelming military might and economic exploitation.
Even backed by the world superpower of the time, he felt his own power threatened by the magi’s inquiries. After the wise men left, after this scripture passage ends, he ordered a brutal and tragic massacre of toddlers and infants in the region in and around Bethlehem.
Because the magi offered Jesus and his family rich gifts, when Joseph, Mary, and Jesus fled from the wrath of Herod, one assumes they were sustained by these gifts during their years of exile in Egypt. Because of the perceptiveness and honor of the Zoroastrian astrologers, Jesus escaped early death, and grew up in obscurity - not in a royal palace, not harbored by wealthy lineage - so that he could establish an earth-shaking ministry defined by an upheaval of peace, justice, and wholeness.
This act of gift-giving then, sets an example for us. The magi’s gifts were the essential bridge that kept Jesus and his family alive so that, in turn, the life of God could take root and flourish among us. Not an isolated or sectarian “us,” but a sign of peace for the world. A way for places of peace to become beacons for the weary and the harried.
When I think about the magi - their discernment, their understanding, their righteousness and honor, I think about the vast chorus of voices who witness to the establishment of God’s reign of wholeness and reconciliation. At times, Christians have been quick to assume that there is a proverbially narrow path to acceptance by God. And yet Isaiah tells us, and Matthew shows us, that God’s reign of peace is for all people, that we are to perceive it, work for it, benefit from it, all together.
We hear the clarion call for peace rising. We heard it from the Baptist preacher Martin Luther King Jr., calling for justice to roll down like waters. We hear it now, in the decrees of Popes Francis, and Leo, denouncing war, and pleading for the protection of innocent lives. Right now, the work of peace is made manifest through the humble walking of Buddhist monks in the American south, footsore but extending blessings and prayers wherever they go. Just yesterday, I listened to the clear-eyed urgings of rabbis in New York City, who call us to lay aside perceived enmity and turn toward one another in justice and compassion.
We, who say we know and love God, who say that God has come to dwell with us, do we also love peace? Not passivity, the un-rocked boat, or a quiet born of ignorance. Do we love the Prince of Peace in a way that leads to us to want to be more like him, searching for him in his humility, loving him by offering gifts so that his ministry will still flourish?
Obviously the story of the magi’s long journey is extraordinary. But it would not have happened without their daily faithfulness, their attentive study and steadfast hearts. Our own options for peace-building are usually ordinary and daily. We can be sure to study our own times, reading deeply and broadly about the needs for peace and the ways it has been cultivated. Rooted in the sure love of God, we can foster inner stillness, and practice outer joy. We can nurture relationships of all kinds - noticing with kindness even the acquaintances and strangers in our midst, noticing the humanity and dignity and shared goals of those who we disagree with, and building coalition with diverse community members.
Whatever you do, long for peace the way the magi fixed themselves to the sign of the Christ child. Let your longing guide you, step by step toward the peace of justice, the peace that the people of God have always envisioned — a holiness without destruction or harm, a holiness in which the vulnerable are protected and the powerful are restrained. May the light of this star guide us to its resting place, always.