Fulfilled in Your Hearing

Luke 4:14-21

Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and reports about him spread throughout the surrounding country. He began to preach in their synagogues and he was praised by everyone. When he came to Nazareth, the town where he had been brought up, he entered the synagogue on the Sabbath, as was his custom. When he stood up to read, 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, for 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, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Then he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then Jesus began to say to them, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

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Spoiler alert: This morning’s Gospel reading ends right where next week’s Gospel reading will begin. Luke, Chapter 4, Verse 21, is the start of what we’ll hear next Sunday: “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” And the spoiler is that what Jesus says next gets him kicked out of his own hometown. What’s coming makes his old friends and neighbors want to hurl him over a cliff on the outskirts of Nazareth. And we’ll get to that … next week.

For now, I want to simply sit with what we’ve been given to wonder about this morning. Today’s good trouble is enough for today, you might say.

See, I’m excited for Jesus this morning. If you look back at what precedes this morning’s Gospel, you’ll see that Jesus is fresh from the waters of his baptism in the Jordan. Maybe you remember. He was washed in the river by John the Baptist, the heaven’s opened, the Holy Spirit descended like a dove, and he was declared – by a voice from the clouds and before everybody there – to be God’s beloved son.

And then that same Holy Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness where he spent some time duking it out with the Devil. For forty days he was tempted to turn stones to bread while he was starving; he was tempted to forsake God’s authority for the Devil’s kind of power; and he was tempted to see if God loved him enough to save him from a swan dive off the top of Jerusalem’s temple. Of course, Jesus faithfully resisted each of these tests and temptations, to win the day.

So, by the time we meet up with him this morning, he has celebrated that baptism and he has survived that time in the wilderness, and he has been preaching and teaching his way around Galilee to rave reviews and with great approval – he was being “praised by everyone,” so we’re told. He is on a roll and riding high, living his best life.

So, when he stands up to read in worship, back home in Nazareth … when he gets his hands on the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, he very deliberately finds the thing he wants to share with his people – all that stuff about good news for the poor; that bit about release for the captives; that promise of sight for the blind; a dose of freedom for the oppressed; and a gracious reminder of the Lord’s good favor.

And after he reads it, he just rolls up the scroll, hands it back to the usher, and takes a seat. There is no preaching. No teaching. No clever illustrations. No scriptural exegesis. He just sits down and they all stare at him. They probably make eyes at each other and whisper amongst themselves and, maybe, wonder what’s coming next.

And Jesus breaks what must have been a very awkward silence to make his point … to say what he came to say … to drop the mic, as it were. He says, simply: “Today, this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

“Today, this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

And that meant at least two things:

First, it meant that Jesus was a prophet, something like the Old Testament prophet Isaiah, whom he was quoting – only better. He used Isaiah’s words to say something about himself: that he had taken on the mantle of a prophet and declared that – like Isaiah – the Spirit of the Lord had come upon HIM; that HE, Jesus from Nazareth, had been anointed by God to do some pretty great things in and for the sake of the world. This, in and of itself, was very good news.

Which points to the other thing that had been fulfilled, right there in their midst: That good news had been brought to the poor. That release had been proclaimed for the captives. That recovery of sight for the blind had been announced. That freedom for the oppressed was afoot. And that the Lord’s favor was upon them.

And I think Jesus knew that the people in his hometown needed some good news … some hope … some light in their darkness. And I believe God knows we need more of the same, still, today.

So this morning, before we get to the hard stuff of next week – the stuff that may make you want to throw Jesus (or me) off the cliff on the outskirts of town – I’m trying to hear and believe and to trust that Jesus’ words can be true for us, still – that today, we might see that this Scripture of very good news, has been fulfilled in our hearing.

See, Jesus was always speaking good news to – or on behalf of – the poor. And our ministry is doing that, as we’re able. We fed as many as 12 families a week ago Wednesday through our food pantry. And Pastor Cogan and I were able to pay rent and electric bills for some very needy neighbors just this past week with our discretionary fund. That’s some good news for some poor folks who needed a little help in these hard times. “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

And Jesus understood what it was to be held captive – literally and figuratively and personally, too. So, when he proclaimed release to the captive, he meant it. And while there are many more yet to come, I hope, God surely rejoices with every hostage that’s been released in Israel and Palestine. “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

And Jesus always proclaimed and promised the Lord’s gracious favor, especially for those the world rejects or disregards or denies are worthy of it. So, even though our lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, trans and queer friends, family, and neighbors have very good reason to fear the loss of their freedom and full regard under the law, these days – very often in the name of Christianity – it’s not nothing that we – as a family of faith and as followers of Jesus – are here to proclaim and to promise God’s favor upon – and deep love for them. “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

And we know Jesus came for the sake of those who were being oppressed – to cast the mighty down from their thrones, to life up the lowly, to scatter the proud – in his own hometown who were under the thumb of the Roman empire, and beyond. So his words of freedom that day in the synagogue were like a fist of defiance in the face of that oppression and a rallying cry for those who needed a champion.

Our high school youth are learning how to fight the cycle of homelessness, our Racial Justice Team continues to wonder and learn together about systems that separate us, and our Outreach grant applications go live next week so that we can use our resources for ministries like Exodus Refugee International and others who feel like they’re under the thumb of empire, these days. “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

I guess what I’m saying is that, while there’s plenty to lament and fear and work for in this world, I’m grateful I can point to the mission and ministry we’re up to in very tangible ways to show that – when we get it right – Scripture is being fulfilled in our midst. There is good news for the poor, there is freedom for the oppressed, captives are being released, and God’s favor reigns – even when that’s hard to see and no matter how much more work there is yet to do.

And I’m grateful we are called to keep following Jesus here, the one who’s life, ministry, death, and resurrection are all about delivering some measure of hope and joy, grace and peace, love and mercy, to those who need it most, in a world where those blessings can seem so hard to find.

And in a world that does its best to stand in the way of it all, too much of the time. More on that next Sunday.

Amen

Baptized by Wildfires

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts about John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water. One who is more powerful than I is coming. I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”

After all the people were baptized and after Jesus himself was baptized and praying, the heaven opened and the spirit descended upon him in bodily form, like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the beloved. With you I am well pleased.”

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It’s hard to wonder about “unquenchable fire” this morning without being mindful of what’s been burning in California all week – the houses and habitats, the landscape and livelihood, the lives of so many people and so much of God’s beautiful creation.

And I’ve spent a fair amount of time the last few days watching those rescue workers and firefighting aircraft douse those relentless flames with gallon after gallon after gallon after gallon of water and fire retardant, as people pray for some relief and some reprieve from the destruction of those wildfires – all of which is pretty hard to fathom, here in the frozen, cold, snow and ice of our Midwestern winter.

And I saw one story, in particular, about it all, that got my attention. A guy named Miro Freed, who used to work for the Forest Service as a Firefighter in California, but doesn’t any more, was able to save his home somewhere up in the highlands, or mountains, of Sierra Madre, from burning to dust like so many of the homes and businesses of his friends, family, and neighbors along the California coast. And he told a reporter how he did it.

Over the last five years, Freed has been doing what he called “fuel reduction” and creating what he called “defensible space,” around his home. From what I gathered, this means he got rid of certain kinds of plants and trees from around his house so that, should a fire come, they wouldn’t serve as kindling and fuel that would help to burn the structures on his property. Hence what he called, “fuel reduction.”

He also described literally raising up trees and bushes – the ones that remained a distance from his house – to a higher elevation from the land and plants beneath his on the mountain, so that, as a wildfire climbed up the hillside there would be less of a chance that it could reach – or that the flames would jump – to the plants and foliage and structures on his land. I imagine this “defensible space” amounts to a significantly vacant span of emptiness, for lack of a better description.

Of course, they also showed him soaking down all of the above – the trees, bushes, and foliage around his house – with a garden hose to keep the flames at bay, too.

And all of that guy’s pro-active, pre-emptive, thoughtful preparation helped remind me to think differently about John the Baptist – and all of his words and warnings down by the river on the day of Jesus’ baptism.

See, John always sounds so angry, doesn’t he? And he often gets portrayed that way, with all of his talk about winnowing forks and threshing floors; about burning chaff and unquenchable fires, I mean. (John, why are you mad … when you could be glad?)

Well, maybe John isn’t so mad, after all. Or angry, or as fire-and-brimstone as Christians have so often made him out to be. And, even more, maybe that’s not the way we’re supposed to imagine or receive the Jesus John was promising and pointing toward, either.

Teachers of religion – Christianity and otherwise – are so good at painting pictures of God as a finger-pointing, fire-wielding, people-punishing, power monger who gathers up the good and disregards the bad with no more than the brush of a hand. And custodians of Christianity have taken it upon themselves to do the same, by deciding and declaring – on behalf of Jesus – whoever or whatever doesn’t fit into what they believe to be Christian, or Christ-like, or whatever.

You know what I mean … whether it’s women being worthy of preaching the good news; LGBTQ folks being able to love who and how they were created to love; gate-keeping who can join a church, who’s ready for baptism, who’s allowed at the communion table, who’s forgivable, loveable, acceptable, worthy.

This is not how it’s supposed to be and I don’t believe this is what God wants us to hear when we read John’s warning about the coming of Jesus today. I don’t know what God’s “threshing floor” is supposed to look like, exactly – but I don’t believe that “chaff” has to be a metaphor for people. I believe “chaff” to God is the stuff in our lives that we might wish to be rid of, ourselves, if we could be honest and faithful about what hurts, harms, and keeps us from living our best lives as God’s children.

See, I wonder if John the Baptist was more like that guy in California – the former Firefighter – who’s just offering some practical, holy advice about how to live a life of faith that’s less likely to be consumed or disrupted or destroyed by the hard stuff that comes our way in this world?

What if John is talking about “fuel reduction,” too – getting rid of those things in our midst, close to our hearts and close to our homes, that threaten to consume us or others? What if he’s talking about creating “defensible spaces” between us and all of that which we know isn’t good, or righteous, or healthy, or holy for anybody?

And what if John is painting a picture of a God, in Jesus, who helps us, with great care and compassion, to remove the chaff from our lives that distracts us from God’s love, that keeps us from living well – anything that tempts us not to give or serve or love ourselves and our neighbor, just the same?

What if John is pointing to Jesus, the Messiah, as the one who invites and who helps people like you and me to leave behind the things that hold us captive, that keep us bound, that separate us from the fullness of life God intends for us all as God’s beloved children, with whom God is well-pleased?

And the variety of things that hold us captive are many – and as varied as the circumstances in the lives of those of us here. We are held captive by our fear of the unknown. We are held hostage by our grief. We are bound by the burden of the grudges we carry.

We’re captive, too, by systems of oppression that harm us all in the long run – but that do more damage to some than others. We are beholden to our greed, our jealousy, our hypocrisy, our intolerance, our privilege, our comfort, our self-interest, and our reluctance to repent and change, any number of those things enough of the time.

Some of us are trapped by a long, painful history of bad theology that has convinced us that we – or others – are unworthy of the divine love and mercy all of us long for.

Whatever the case, it’s all chaff, chaff, and more chaff. It harms us. It hurts our neighbor. It destroys community. It blunts our faith. And God knows it. And it deserves to be set ablaze by God’s Holy Spirit or doused and drowned by the waters of Holy Baptism.

I think that’s what John was offering, because I believe that’s what Jesus showed up to do – and does, still … not out of anger or for the sake of fear, but out of love and for the sake of hope – for us and for the whole wide world.

And that is the gift of baptism. It’s the hope of baptism for those who’ve already received it and it’s the promise of the sacrament, for those who are curious. It’s an invitation to let the love of God burn away whatever keeps you afraid or feeling less than or unloved or unworthy of God’s favor. It’s the promise of a grace so big that it drowns out and washes away whatever sin and brokenness the world pretends can separate you from the God who calls and considers you “Beloved,” already and always.

It is water and Word that means to bless your life on this side of heaven, just as much as whatever awaits you on the other side of life as we know it. And it’s the good news of a grace that will change us and transform the world when we receive and share it, fully, as God intends.

Amen.