Today’s scripture begins by mentioning that Jesus was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. So, whatever happens next, you know that the Spirit is behind it. The Spirit had descended upon him after he had been baptized; the Spirit led him into the wilderness, where he fasted and faced temptation; and after his time in the wilderness, the Spirit filled him with power as he returned to Galilee and began his ministry.
Soon, Jesus arrived in Nazareth, his hometown. On the Sabbath day, he went to the synagogue, as was his custom. He read a passage from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. Then he sat down to preach the sermon. (It is our custom for the preacher to stand, but in those days, preachers and teachers sat.)
Those who heard Jesus were amazed at what he said. To them, it was apparent that the Spirit was with Jesus. And why shouldn’t the Spirit be with Jesus? Jesus had put much effort into opening himself up to God’s Spirit. In case you weren’t paying attention… let’s review: Jesus submitted to the waters of baptism. He fasted—and he prayed, too; fasting is almost always accompanied by prayer. He observed the Sabbath by going to the synagogue, to worship. He read the scripture.
Remember those spiritual practices I talked about a few weeks ago? Jesus engages in five of them just over the span of a few verses in scripture. Prayer, fasting, Sabbath, worship, Bible study. Practices like these are what opens a person up to the guiding power of the Spirit. Yes, the Spirit does come down from God, as our stained glass window depicts so beautifully; but if a person is not open to receiving the Spirit, then the Spirit’s power will not fill them.
When Jesus stood up to read the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, he knew (having been guided by the Spirit) what he wanted to read:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me… to bring good news to the poor… release to the captives… sight to the blind… freedom to the oppressed… and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
When he finished reading, it became silent in the synagogue. The only sound to be heard was the rustling of parchment as he rolled up the scroll, and handed it to the attendant. As he sat down to preach, all eyes were fixed upon him. Every person was listening intently to what Jesus would say about this passage and its promise of good news, release, sight, and freedom.
Jesus spoke. “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
Instantly, the synagogue was filled with shouts of joy. “At last! God’s anointed one, come to earth, bringing freedom and release and good news! And, best of all, he’s one of us—is he not? Isn’t this Joseph’s son, the carpenter? What a good day this is for Nazareth! How blessed we are!”
Yes, the words that Jesus spoke certainly do sound good, don’t they? “Good news to the poor…” What church doesn’t want to help the poor? “Release to the captives…” Who can deny the goodness of ministering to those who have been locked away? “Sight to the blind…” Oh, yes, there are a lot of people—a lot of people right here in Nazareth, right here at home—who have yet to see the light. “Freedom to the oppressed…” Yes, Lord; set us free! Set us free!
But then… Jesus said: “Listen. It’s not just about “right here, right here.” It’s not just about you. Don’t you remember? Even with all the widows in Israel, Elijah went to a widow in the far away land of Sidon. Don’t you remember? Even though there were—and are—many lepers in Israel, Elisha went to Naaman in far away Syria.”
Well. Talk about bursting their bubble. “What do you mean, it’s not about us? We thought you were going to do things for us… but it sounds like you’re asking us to do things for others, for people who aren’t even from Nazareth… for people who aren’t even Jews! Come on, Jesus; you’re one of us! We’re your people! Charity begins at home!”
But Jesus knew what he was talking about. It was the Spirit speaking through him, really. And the people didn’t like it. Soon, they were filled with rage.
They said, “Well, just who are you, anyway? Just who do you think you are? You’re nobody special, that’s who you are! Where are your credentials? Who were your teachers? What kind of experience do you have? Why, we know exactly who you are—you’re nothing but the son of the village carpenter! And even that, if the truth be told, is questionable!”
Then they grabbed him and dragged him out of town, and when they got to a cliff they intended to throw him off, except that somehow—somehow—he managed to pass through them and go on his way.
Well. What happened? Why did his own community turn on him so suddenly? How did they go from worshipers singing his praises in the synagogue to a murderous mob in such a short time?
What happened was that Jesus burst their provincial bubble. He told them that it wasn’t all about them. And he took a beautiful phrase about freeing the oppressed and releasing the captives, and made it more than just a beautiful phrase. It’s not just a bunch of words that sound good when we say them. It’s a calling to do God’s work. It’s a mission statement. It’s a “this-is-what-we-gotta-do” proclamation. It’s not enough to just talk about your faith or what you believe in. Jesus didn’t say, “believe this in remembrance of me.” He said, “do this in remembrance of me.” Do it. Do the work. And do it not for yourselves, but for all of God’s people. Do the work that brings wholeness to a fragmented world.
The church is called to bring about the restoration of the world. For God so loved the world, that he gave his only son. In Christ, God was reconciling the world unto himself.
It is not God’s will that we erect walls around our own family, group, or community. It is not God’s will that we seek God’s blessings for us and not for others. And it is not God’s will that we seek blessings only for those who think like us, act like us, look like us, or worship like us.
When the Israelites were taken into captivity in Babylon, they were removed from their homes and forced to live in Babylonian cities. Day and night, they prayed for deliverance. Day and night, they prayed for God’s blessings to be upon them and their families. But God, speaking through the prophet Jeremiah, said to them: “Do not seek only your own welfare; but seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you into exile.”
Do what? Pray for our captors? Pray for our enemies?
“Yes! Pray for the Babylonians. For in their welfare and in the welfare of their city will you find your welfare.”…
The Babylonians weren’t just some other nation; they were the oppressors. They were the enemy. But what does God say?
Pray for them. Pray for their welfare. Your welfare is tied to their welfare. Your welfare and their welfare are one.
Does God care for our enemies? Yes. Of course. Does God love those who are different from us? Most certainly. An ancient Jewish legend about the exodus says that when God’s people escaped Pharaoh’s army by passing through the Red Sea, they celebrated. They celebrated their deliverance, and they celebrated the drowning of Pharaoh’s army.
But God did not join in the celebration. So Moses said to God, “Why aren’t you happy? Your children are now free.” And God replied, “The Egyptians were my children, too.”
This message did not go over well with the people of Nazareth. “It’s our welfare that you should be con-cerned about, Jesus. After all, you’re one of us! We need help right here, but if all you care about is every-one else, then you might as well not be one of us.”
Their exaggeration shows that they did not understand. Jesus did care about them. However, he saw the world through the eyes of God. And in God’s eyes, every person is a child of God. God desires the welfare of Capernaum as well as Nazareth. God desires the welfare of Syria and Sidon, too.
In God’s eyes, wealthy American children and poor Haitian children are equally precious. In God’s eyes, the welfare of Afghanistan is just as important as the welfare of the United States. In fact, the welfare of one is tied to the welfare of the other, just as the welfare of Christians and Muslims is tied together, or the welfare of blacks and whites, natives and immigrants, old and young, rich and poor, gay and straight, conservative and liberal, male and female, slave and free, Jew and Gentile… all are precious in God’s sight. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in God’s sight.
No wonder the welfare of one depends on the welfare of the other—God loves them all! No wonder a threat to justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. No wonder the destruction we inflict upon the earth, we inflict upon ourselves. This is all a part of the ancient wisdom, but it is wisdom that is too often ignored, even today.
The good news that Jesus proclaims is not ours to keep. It is ours to share. In fact, it will only be good news for us if we work to make it good news for others. We cannot thrive while others are suffering.
That is how God designed it.
We may think that we are prosperous, that we are blessed, but really, our prosperity and our blessings are no more than the prosperity and blessings of the poorest of God’s children. When we share the good news that brings release to the captives, sight to the blind, and freedom to the oppressed,… only then will our light break forth; only then will we find healing and wholeness.
When we offer food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then will our light shine in the darkness, and our gloom be like the noonday sun.
It is ancient wisdom: happiness and blessing come from caring for others, from serving every child of God you meet, no matter where they come from, or how different from you they may be. It’s ancient wisdom, but it’s still good.
No comments:
Post a Comment