Luke 4:14-21
Then Jesus, in the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding region. He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone. When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
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When I was a kid, my parents often took my three older brothers and me camping. My dad loved to take 8 mm film movies on those trips. Each year he would create a highlight reel that we would watch at the holidays. One year’s video – 1960 or so -became a favorite, even though most of us in the family weren’t even born at the time it was taken. It was the year my 2nd oldest brother went down to the shore of Lake of the Woods in Northern MN to get water for boiling. Randy, being slightly hefty and about 4 years old, stumbled and fell into the lake, and it was caught on film. Every time it was played, we siblings all laughed. We waited for that moment in the film, and then asked dad to rewind it, and we laughed again. (Sidebar, no one ever asked why my dad kept filming when his little boy was struggling in the water all by himself.)
This went on year after year. But at some point, Randy made it known he didn’t appreciate this being the primary story we knew about his childhood. My memory is that he asked Dad to stop showing it. In essence, he said, there are many ways of telling the story of me, or that trip. I’d like to tell it in a different way – and in my way.
Telling stories.
I find it helpful to read the gospel, not as a blow-by-blow historical account that we could have filmed, but as a faith inspired, retrospective, partial – re-telling of the stories of Jesus. With the perspective of time – time to observe Jesus’ whole life and then decades to reflect on who he was after his death and resurrection – the gospel records a small number of occasions in the 30 odd 1 years of his life. The stories or incidents they chose to write down – or not – say as much about their faith as they do anything else.
So, when I read today’s text I come with a few questions, such as:
- Of all the Jewish text Jesus may have read out loud or quoted in his life, why is this an important moment to document?
- Why is this text followed by the story of Jesus being rejected by his own community, in that very same synagogue? And why is it sandwiched between appreciation for his work in Galilee and wonder and awe because of his ministry later Capernaum?
- Knowing this gospel was written around 70 CE at the time of the destruction of the temple, why was this one of the moments the writers want their community to remember?
I’ve come across a chant recently, written by Lutheran musician Paul Damico Carper:
Our stories are old stories
Our stories are new stories
Our stories are God’s stories, told in bodies and time.
I love how this reminds us that stories of our faith – biblical and communal – are part of the larger story of God’s movement in the world. And they are embodied in our lives right here, right now.
Therefore, the story of Jesus walking into the synagogue and reading from the scroll may have actually happened in a way we could have filmed it, but its real importance comes with each retelling of it in the present tense. In new bodies and in a new time.
Telling stories of longing.
A few weeks ago, journalist David Brooks of the NYT wrote a reflective piece about his own journey of faith. He noted that when he was an agnostic, he thought faith was primarily about belief. But when faith “tiptoed into (his) life,” he realized it was actually less about information and persuasion and more about ‘numinous experiences… “The word faith implies possession of something, whereas I experience faith as a yearning for something beautiful that I can sense but not fully grasp…it is about longing and thirsting more than knowing and possessing.”
I wonder if this today’s text is also less about information and more about this perpetual longing, thirsting, and yearning.
I wonder if Isaiah’s vision that is passed from one era to another, and that we repeat often in our era, has power, in part, because it names what is perpetually true for those of us in this ancient Judeo Christian lineage.
We yearn for good news for the poor.
We thirst for the release of captives.
We long for sight to the blind.
We wait to see the beautiful ‘year of the Lord’ enacted, even as we face the terror and violence of Empire.
Any objective reading of Jesus’ life in history would confirm that no matter how eloquent he was, the rule of the Empire didn’t end because of his resistance. Maybe the power of his life, and his death and resurrection – then and now – is that it re-ignites the awe and the hope.
- Sometimes to topple Empires,
- Sometimes to endure the harsh realities of Empire.
- And sometimes to inspire anti Empire communities living against the norms of their times.
Maybe then and now, it is but a glimpse of what can be. A vision not fully grasped, but a reminder that faith includes holy longing. Always longing.
So how is this helpful as we begin anew with a reign of confusion, ugliness, meanness and real harm to many in our lives and communities? One response is to remember this longing for justice is not new, nor insignificant. Electing a person of our liking to public office matters, but it has never brought about the values of God’s reign. Who we elect has consequences, but the reign of Empire prevails, nonetheless. Sometimes Christians of all stripes confuse their candidate with a modern-day Messiah. They are not.
As followers of Jesus, we stand against the values and machinations of Empire all the time. We stand in a long line of faithful, yearning people who have not only longed for justice, but who also put their feet and hands and hearts and minds and imaginations to work to bring it about. At times at great cost to their lives. Most often with deep joy in their hearts.
As people of faith we remember that the story of today is only part of the story.
- We fight for justice today, AND we are engaged in a hope that far outlasts our lifetimes.
- We cling to the saints in our consciousness – living and deceased – and their witness and courage.
- We marvel at their creativity.
- We labor in their wake.
- We are inspired by the faith lived in their bodies and time.
- It is good to bring them back to mind, to ask their guidance, to cherish their stories. And in so doing to place our story into the larger context of our collective story of faithfulness.
Irish activist and organizer Gareth Higgins notes that we have the power to choose which story we tell about ourselves and the world. As a gay man who grew up in conservative Christianity in Northern Ireland, he knows trauma, he encourages us not to ignore stories of real pain and fear, but to consider the size of any story, and our place in it. He wants us to not despair because of the stories of terror.
- It may be that the world is going to hell, he writes, ‘in which case I don’t know what I’d rather do than lead with love, courage, creativity, and community…
- It may be that the world isn’t in despair, in which case we will need a lot more love, courage, creativity and community (to keep hope fresh)…
- It may be that both are true, in which case there is no path to enabling a wise discernment of how to live that doesn’t prioritize love, courage, creativity and community.
{I can no longer find the exact reference for this quote, but you can read Gareth’s work at www.theporchcommunity.net}
Jesus picked up an old story and helped it become new through his life.
The gospel writers picked up an old story and helped it become new in their witness.
As in any age, today we are invited to pick up that old story of hope, to find our place in it, and help it become new. Help it come alive with courage and grace as God’s story told in our bodies and in our time. Amen.