By Bishop Ann Svennungsen

Epiphany 2021 is forever marked as the day our Capitol was breached by an angry and violent mob; the day our country was betrayed by threats to human life and the institutions of democracy.

No one could close their eyes to the horror. And, from Majority Leader Mitch McConnell to Speaker Nancy Pelosi, leaders across the political spectrum spoke to condemn what they saw.

But not just our national leaders were riveted by the day’s events. The whole global family watched. Indeed, Archbishop Musa Filibus from our companion synod in Nigeria called me within the first hour of the riot, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Epiphany 2021. Actually, the word epiphany means revelation or manifestation. We will likely never forget what was revealed to us last Wednesday.

 

OH, MOSTLY WE ASSUME that epiphanies are good: the magi recognizing Jesus as the Messiah, the disciples recognizing the risen Christ on the road to Emmaus.

But, scripture also describes epiphanies that are not so positive – moments when God opens our eyes to personal sin or corporate evil. And God’s judgment often follows such epiphanies. Before the fall of Israel, the word of God was heard: “I know how many are your transgressions, and how great are your sins— you who afflict the righteous, who take a bribe, and push aside the needy in the gate.” (Amos 5:12)

“No one could close their eyes to the horror.”

God knows. God sees. A veil has been lifted. (Make that many veils.) On Epiphany 2021, we saw clearly that:

  • Angry rhetoric from leaders can lead to violence, injury, and death
  • Christian symbols can be used to support idolatrous Christian nationalism
  • Racial bias in law enforcement is real – evidenced by how Black Lives Matter protesters were treated much more aggressively than those in Wednesday’s mob
  • Only since 1965 have we been multi-racial democracy; our work in dismantling white supremacy is far from over

Perhaps, the most redemptive epiphany I saw was when adversaries across partisan lines stood together in shared horror and denunciation. Could it be that something was finally broken open on Wednesday? Something revealed to compel us all – on every side of the aisle – to take seriously the current reality we face? Is there a chance we can now turn that shared horror and condemnation into a shared commitment to do something?

“Truth-telling is not the final act.”

Whether it be repentance or reformation, the work begins with honesty. Prophets like Amos spoke hard truths. “Here is sin. Here is brokenness.”

It begins with honesty. But it doesn’t end there.

Truth-telling is not the final act. In the words of Walter Brueggemann:
The church has two principal tasks in our time, I propose:
   – to practice grief in the face of denial by truth-telling;
   – to practice hope in the face of despair by promise-telling.

As people of the cross and resurrection, we have hope in the power of God to bring life even in the midst of death. We have hope in “the God who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist” (Romans 4:17) and “is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3:20). Our hope is based in God’s resolve to gather all heaven and earth together in one community of justice, peace, and love.

We resist denial; we refuse despair. And together – for it’s only together – we live out the “hope that is in us,” following Jesus in a life of discipleship.