Epiphany 3A: Be the Shamash – by Rev. Jeffrey Tooke
On this Sunday, still within the season of Epiphany, our attention is once again drawn to revelation: revelation of who Jesus is, and by extension, of who we are called to be.
Our reading tells us that Isaiah proclaimed, “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.” This is the light brought forth by Jesus, first foretold by the prophets and proclaimed by John the Baptist. And part of the mystery of that light breaking into the darkness is this: when Jesus hears of John’s arrest, he does not retreat or fall silent. Instead, he takes up John’s message and proclaims, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
That continuation matters. It shows us that the light does not end with one voice or one witness. The light is passed on: received, embodied, and carried forward from one person to another.
I’m reminded of a meme you may have seen on social media, most often shared during Hanukkah, but deeply fitting for our reflection today. It shows a lit menorah with the simple words: “Be the Shamash.” To understand its power, you need to know what the shamash is. The shamash is the helper or servant candle in the menorah. It is the first candle lit, and its purpose is to light all the others.
The shamash does not exist for its own brightness alone. Its calling is to pass on the light.
As the servant candle, the shamash reminds us that we are called to bring light into darkness, not by shining for our own sake, but by helping others shine. It is a model of service, a reminder that faith is not something we merely hold or believe, but something we live and enact in the world. To be the shamash, then, is to live our faith in action. It is to make our beliefs visible through the choices we make, the stances we take, and the ways we show up in ordinary moments and in moments of consequence.
I have to say that over the past few weeks and months, I have been deeply moved by the examples of faith in action that I have witnessed. I have been awestruck by people choosing to shine light in the midst of darkness, and their witness encourages me to keep doing my small part in nurturing, protecting, and passing on that light.
Just this week, we saw more than a hundred clergy arrested in Minnesota as part of a public witness. Their actions took place alongside thousands of residents who were shining light on the activities of Immigration and Customs Enforcement, particularly in the wake of the death of Renee Good and what many see as troubling overreach in enforcement efforts.
At a recent prayer vigil, Bishop Craig Loya of Minnesota urged people not to meet hatred with hatred, but instead to respond with love. “We are going to make like our ancient ancestors,” he said, “and turn the world upside down by mobilizing for love. We are going to disrupt with Jesus’ hope.” His words are a call to keep the light lit, to protect it, and to share it: to live as shamash people.
This same call was echoed this past summer when Presiding Bishop Sean Rowe reminded us that “once the church of presidents, The Episcopal Church must now be an engine of resistance.” Resistance that is not rooted in bitterness or fear, but grounded in love, justice, and hope. We are called to keep the light alive, and to share it.
Now, we can and do differ on public policy. History shows that previous administrations — Clinton, Bush, Obama, and Biden — carried out far more deportations than the Trump administrations. But the difference that troubles so many is not simply the numbers; it is the manner. Earlier systems included clearer processes and constitutional protections afforded to all persons. What we have increasingly seen instead is enforcement marked by hostility, fear, and violence, with constitutional protections too often ignored. Those protections are not abstract technicalities. They are expressions of our shared commitment to compassion and mercy within our system of justice.
And compassion or cruelty are not merely policy positions. They are stances toward life and death. Stances toward dignity and respect. Stances toward justice or violence.
As Christians, we are called to compassion, not only by our ethics, but by our humanity, and by the promises made in Baptism. We are called to uphold the dignity of every human being and to seek justice for all people. That is our baptismal commitment.
Without compassion, we lose our humanity.
Without compassion, we lose our Christian witness.
Without compassion, we lose our faith in action.
So once again we hear the call: to turn the world upside down by mobilizing for love. To become an engine of resistance rooted in hope. To live our faith boldly and visibly. To be the shamash: to carry the light, to share the light, to keep it alive.
And we should remain hopeful because light does dispel darkness. Martin Luther King Jr. reminded us that “only when it is dark enough can you see the stars.” And the English theologian Thomas Fuller wrote that “the darkest hour is just before dawn.”
So have hope, my friends.
Share the light.
Turn the world upside down by mobilizing for love.
Practice your faith in action.
Be the shamash.
The dawn is coming.