“Kindling the Light” a sermon preached by Rev. Sarah Henkel
February 1, 2026 - Otisville-Mt. Hope Presbyterian Church
For those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.
This is how Matthew’s Gospel quotes the prophet Isaiah to say that Jesus is fulfilling
the role of one sent to bring life and hope to God’s people.
For those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.
What does sitting in the region and shadow of death look like - maybe you have been in
that space?
Grieving the loss of someone close to your heart, facing endless financial struggles,
hearing from a doctor about a difficult health diagnosis, a falling out with a friend that
seems beyond repair, or simply taking in violence of the daily news and the despair it
can inspire.
The specifics of how we end up in that region of death and despair vary but, however
we arrive there, we know how painful it is....and how lonely it is. In fact, loneliness may
be the defining characteristic of “sitting in the region and shadow of death.” It is the
perception that we are completely alone in the pain or suffering we are experiencing.
Alone and doomed to always be that way.
The Gospel of Matthew tells us that after Jesus heard about the arrest of John the
Baptist, he withdrew to Galilee, a region by the sea. It must have been painful for
Jesus to watch the violence inflicted on John, the one who baptized him.
Johns’ arrest was meant to frighten Jesus and his followers, to scare them away from
one another, to break them apart and inflict enough pain that this movement of
revolutionary love would stop messing with business as usual.
Those tactics didn’t work on Jesus though. He knew his power, God’s power lies in
connection. He knew that the light grows between us, in relationship, and that is how
he continued to live.
Jesus started his ministry by connecting to some fisherfolk in Capernaum. That was
not an easy time to be trying to make a living by fishing in that region. Rome had
recently privatized fishing in Capernaum and restructured the whole industry to benefit
exports, instead of staying in the local economy. Local fishermen had to buy leases in
order to fish and their catch was heavily taxed. A fisherman could spend all day fishing
and end up with almost nothing.
Jesus watched them work from the shore that morning. He probably thought about his
cousin John, praying that he would see the better world he - Jesus - knew was
dawning. When the fisherfolk, Simon Peter and Andrew get closer to shore, Jesus
invites them to leave this weary reality behind and follow him.
And they do, they drop everything and follow him. So do two more, James and John.
He tells them they will now be - “fishers of people” - a mysterious, kind of funny phrase
that the Gospel goes on to explain. You will be fishers of people, with me, Jesus says
and then, together, they go out into that region and wherever people were sitting in the
shadow of death, Jesus heals them of their sickness.
Many people were sick in those regions because the Roman Empire was bad for most
people’s health.
1 70-90% of people were living in poverty - they lived under enormous
social stress, had little access to clean water, and not enough food to eat. They were
not well.
How did Jesus heal them? Well, the Gospels are full of these stories of healing, each
different from the other. But there is one common theme across all the healing stories
and it is that Jesus - or someone sent by Jesus - draws near to the person in pain, the
one sitting alone...and, thus, that person is no longer alone, no longer outside of the
circle of inclusion.
However else Jesus heals, this healing is first and foremost a removal of the weight of
loneliness or aloneness. For people sitting in the region and shadow of death, light has
dawned in the presence of a friend and savior who draws near.
This is a powerful word of comfort for us this morning, to know that Jesus draws near to
us in our pain and in our loneliness. He is the light dawning for us even now.
1 Gratitude for Warren Carter’s insights on why the Roman Empire and its structures were bad for the health of
many people living under its rule:
https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/third-sunday-after-epiphany/comment
ary-on-matthew-412-23-3
This is also a powerful word of challenge, a call to courage for how we choose to live
out these days.
There are powerful forces at work in our country and in the world that are pushing many
of our neighbors deeper into the region of death...into hunger, fear, homelessness,
isolation. There are many voices in the news and on social media that defend this
reality and try to explain why some lives are less worthy of our care and compassion.
How will we respond to this reality? Where will we stand as followers of Jesus?
I’m going to tell you one of my favorite stories to tell in response to that challenging
question. I actually told this story at this church in 2012 when I had way less gray hair.
It is worth repeating now.
When I shared the story 16 years ago we had recently moved to NY from South Texas
near the U.S. Mexico border. In Texas we were part of a bilingual Mennonite
congregation about the size of your congregation here. This is a story about a fellow
congregant there. His name was Frank. He played the guitar in church and had a
great South Texan twang. He was incredibly kind to all the members of our
multicultural, multilingual, multiethnic congregation. Situated on the U.S./Mexico
border, the congregation included many undocumented immigrants, people who had
crossed freely back and forth between the U.S. and Mexico for decades until more
restrictive laws were put in place. Now they were stuck in place with no real pathway
forward to legalization.
Here’s the thing about Frank: He didn’t want to talk about immigration politics. Franks
would often say something like, “let’s not talk politics. I’m pretty sure we didn’t vote for
the same person.” During the time that we were members of the church together, a
new law was in consideration in TX, a law that made it a felony offense for anyone to
transport an undocumented immigrant. The law was broad and punitive. It didn’t just
affect people involved in smuggling immigrants across the border, it affected people like
Frank, who offered rides to Sra. Martinez, an elderly congregant who was
undocumented, to get to the doctor and to church on Sunday mornings. I will never
forget the Sunday that Frank stood up and said: under no circumstance would he stop
giving Sra. Martinez - or any other member of the congregation - rides in his big old
pick-up truck.
Frank committed to keep that dawning light burning for Sra. Martinez and for all of us
who saw the courage of his words and actions and knew we would do likewise.
Who is God asking you to draw near to? Who are you called to remind of their
belonging? For those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned. May we kindle
that light in our hearts as we go from this place, may we carry that light with courage and with great love.
For those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned. May we kindle
that light in our hearts as we go from this place, may we carry that light with courage
and with great love.