Bernardo Strozzi, "Prophet Elijah and the Widow at Sarepta," 1630s
As I noted in my previous posting, the appointed Gospel readings for the Third and Fourth Sundays after Epiphany are in fact one story, divided in half–Part I: Luke 4.14-21; Part II: Luke 4.21-30–giving pastors, priests, and preachers ample opportunity to clarify what Jesus did (and did not do!) while giving his first sermon in the Nazareth synagogue, his hometown “church.” Here is Pastor Luckey’s second homily, based on Luke 4.21-30, as the people of Faith Lutheran Church, Lexington, Kentucky, heard it on the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany, January 31, 2010:
The story in the gospel reading today began last Sunday. You remember from last Sunday’s gospel that Jesus has been preaching and teaching throughout Galilee for several months and is home for a few days. He goes to worship at the synagogue on a Friday evening, the beginning of the Sabbath. He’s been asked to read scripture at the service and to give a little sermon based on the text.
This is how we left the story last week. “He stood up to read,” Luke says “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 let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.’ And he rolled up the scroll and gave it 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.” That was the opening line of his sermon. As we said last week, it was an astounding announcement he was making. Because what he was saying was: “I am this Messiah Isaiah was talking about. I am the one who is going to do these things—these wonderful things—you’ve been waiting on all these years. Release to the captives, sight to the blind and all that.” That was an astounding claim for the hometown boy to make.
But, you have to hand it to them. At least at first the congregation was willing to entertain the possibility that this Jesus, the boy who they had watched grow up was indeed the Messiah. “All spoke well of him,” Luke says, “and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” That’s high praise for the preacher. They are elbowing each other in the rib. “This boy’s good. He can preach. He’s going places. Maybe…Do you think?… Maybe he is the Messiah. After all, he’s been doing some great stuff out there, healing, preaching, teaching, and all.” “All spoke well of him,” Luke says “and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”
He was on a roll. They were loving this sermon. But then, things went south. Jesus picks a fight with his congregation. You don’t do that when you preach. Not if you want to keep your job. This is the only time I can think of in any of the gospels where Jesus goes out of his way to start trouble. He could have left well enough alone. He could have basked in the compliments the congregation was dishing out and let it go at that. After all, they were with him at first. They liked what he was saying. Why ruin a perfectly good church service?
He should have just stopped right then and left the pulpit. They would have sung the last hymn and would have shook his hand at the door. “Good sermon, young man. Come back and see us. We’ll be praying for you. We’ll watch after your mama while you’re gone.” They’d had wished him well. Some little lady would have said: “Jesus, I baked you a pie. It’s apple—your favorite.” But, no. Just as the people are amazed at the gracious words that are coming from his lips Jesus leans over the pulpit and says: “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking: ‘Doctor Jesus, do some of these wonders you’ve been doing everywhere else. After all, it’s your hometown. Heal some of the folks you grew up with. Some of the people who babysat you when you were a kid are old now and sick. Make ‘em well.’ That’s what you’re thinking. But let me tell you. Prophets like me are not accepted in their hometown. And we Jews have a long history of that.”
And he tells them two stories from their Bible. One about Elijah and one about Elisha. In both those stories, God did not rescue Jews. He rescued Gentiles. And the congregation suddenly went from amazement at his gracious words to anger at his lack of social graces. They didn’t mind being told about good news to the poor and release to the captives. But they didn’t want to be reminded of those stories about Elijah and Elisha. They didn’t want to be reminded that God loves foreigners and unbelievers as much as them.
It would be like Jesus coming here and telling us that God loves Muslims just as much as he loves Christians. They didn’t like it back there in Nazareth. So, they rushed the pulpit. Somebody picked Jesus up by the feet. A couple of others got him by the shoulders. And they hauled him out of the synagogue and took him to the edge of town where there was this big cliff. And they intended to throw him headlong onto the rocks below. And kill him.
Now, Luke doesn’t say so, but I’ll bet as they were nearing the brink Jesus was saying to them: “What are you getting mad at me for? I didn’t make those stories up. They’re right there in your book. I’m just quoting the Book. Take it up with God. He wrote the book.”
It’s a problem for religious people. Because you know how it is. There’s a lot in the Book that makes us uncomfortable. Isn’t that the truth? Jesus said a lot of things I wish he hadn’t said that are recorded in the Book. Stuff about loving your enemies. Praying for those who make your life a misery. Forgiving seventy times seven. Selling all you have and giving it to the poor. There’s a website you can go to and type in how much money you make, and it will tell you how rich you are compared to everybody else on the planet. www.globalrichlist.com. Check it out.
This week I was preparing a stewardship presentation, and I went to that website and typed in my salary. I wish I hadn’t done that. Because I discovered that, of the six billion people on this planet, there are only 38 million of them who richer than I am. Think about that. Out of six billion people, there are only 38 million of them that have more money than I do. Five billion, 962 million people are poorer than me. Four and a half billion of them live on $2 or less a day. Seventy percent of people living on less than $1 a day are women.
And do you know what’s in the Book? “It will be easier for a camel to get through the eye of needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” I used to think Jesus was saying that to Bill Gates. Now I know he was saying it to me. It’s in the Book. There are in things in the Book that make me want to take this young man who claims to be the Messiah and throw him over the brink. There’s a commandment against killing. That means war. And abortion. And in the Book, Jesus says: “If you are angry with someone, it’s the same as killing her or him.” It’s in the Book. And we can get on our high horse all we want about Senator John Edwards and his affair. But Jesus said: “If you’ve ever felt lust in your heart, you are an adulterer.” It’s in the Book.
There’s a lot in the Book that I wish wasn’t in the Book. This Book is filled with things that upset our assumptions. That go against conventional wisdom. And even things our mamas and daddies taught us growing up. As long as Jesus preaches about ideas—like freedom for the captives and good news to the poor—I don’t mind it. They sound pretty good in fact. But when he begins to talk turkey and explain what that means, and the sacrifices I need to make to participate in what he’s doing to release the captives and bring good news to the poor, then it’s a different story. Like Mark Twain said: “It’s not the parts of the Bible I don’t understand that bother me. It’s the parts I understand all too well.”
I think if I’d been there in that synagogue that evening a long time ago, I’d have been right in there with them trying to throw Jesus off the cliff. And I would have been just as frustrated as the others when, as Luke says, “But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” Because the fact is, we can try our best to throw Jesus over the brink, but it never works. He just passes through the midst of us and goes on his way…quoting the Book.
Just when we think he’s out of our life for good, and we can go back to business as usual with all its conventional wisdom and all our old assumptions intact, God just raises him from the dead. To go on loving us and bringing us back from the brink. Thank God, that too is in the Book.