Third Sunday after Epiphany Jan 23 2022
Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10, 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a, Luke 4:14-21, Psalm 19
After having just spent forty days in the wilderness, on the heels of his own baptism, Jesus returns to his hometown of Galilee in Nazareth. He attends his neighborhood synagogue. Here everyone watched him grow up and knows his family well. As an honored guest who is already gathering a reputation as a great teacher, Jesus is invited to read the Scriptures and to offer an interpretation. Jesus stands up and reads from the scroll of Isaiah the prophet, and says to the people, today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing. No wonder they want to hurl him off a cliff, we’ll read all about that next week.
We have read through the first three chapters of Luke during advent and Christmas, and today we turn to the fourth chapter of Luke. So let’s just take a moment to remind ourselves of where we have been. Jesus was born in a place no king would ever be caught, in stables out behind a nondescript house. The announcement was made to people who would never be invited to the palace, the shepherds. The mother was a young girl, too young really, who ran to her elderly cousin, who recognizes just who it is that Mary carries within her. Jesus was anointed by the Spirit and baptized in the river, and immediately finds himself in the wilderness being tempted by the devil.
The story really is all wrong, isn’t it? The Messiah, the savior of the world, should be born to a Queen, in a beautiful palace, attended by servants day and night, raised to be King. But that is not the story. The stage is set when we hear Mary’s song, My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. Mary knows who Jesus is, Elizabeth knows who Jesus is, and even before that, Hannah knows who Jesus is, and in this story we have before us today, Jesus knows who Jesus is. And the powers and principalities have spent the last 2022 years trying to deny it.
Last week we read the story about the wedding at Cana, in which Jesus, pushed into it by his mother, turned water into wine. In John’s gospel, that was the inauguration of Jesus’ ministry, the first of the signs, and the demonstration that Jesus’ ministry is grace upon grace.
This story is the inauguration of Jesus’ ministry in Luke, and that ministry is a direct result of all that came before it. And that is important. Right here, at the beginning of his ministry, Jesus tells us clearly what his mission is about. Jesus boldly claims to fulfill the words of Isaiah, who speaks of the Spirit anointing him, sending him, compelling him to bring good news to every one of God’s children who is bound up, pressed down, broken in spirit, impoverished, imprisoned, and desperately hungry for good news.
Wow, again, no wonder they wanted to hurl Jesus off the cliff, anyone who fears the loss of their privileged position might want to. But do you hear this? This good news is for every one of God’s children. So often people mistakenly believe that this, what we do here in church and the proclamation of the good news is for the already put back together people, or for the better not show anyone I’m falling apart people, or the look at me I’m perfect people. But that’s not what this says. Given Jesus’ rather questionable background and the circumstances of his birth, the people who came to visit when he was born, his association with the devil in the wilderness, and especially his mother’s song about what’s going on, it’s pretty clear that Jesus is here for me, and you, for all of us who are bound up, pressed down, broken, and desperately hungry for good news.
We could sure use some good news. Your worth is not dependent on your status, or your earning power, or the degree to which you have your act together, or your gender, or your grades, or your attraction to others, or how hard you work. The good news, as Jesus proclaims in his hometown synagogue, is that you are released from all that binds you.
And then we take the next step. Because there is an implicit invitation that we are to be part of God’s fulfillment of God’s promises. Today. Tomorrow. And the next day. What we do in response to God’s promise, in response to Jesus’ invitation to be a part of healing and reconciliation, matters. Even when the problems seem so big, so insurmountable. We can make a difference. Even small things matter.
Many of you know of Howard Thurman’s wonderfully challenging and equally empowering poem “The Work of Christmas”. And, a month beyond our celebration of Jesus’ birth, as we continue in this season to understand the implications of God’s invasion of humanity through the Word made flesh, the 3rd Sunday after the Epiphany seems like just the right time to hear it again. Thurman’s poem, definitely challenging, as it calls us to something that, if taken seriously, is daunting. But it is simultaneously empowering, calling us to something worthwhile and simultaneously also giving us the confidence that we can do it. Which is the way, when you think about it, the Gospel pretty much always works. It’s exactly what Jesus is doing as he inaugurates his own ministry. These words invite us to see God at work in Jesus and through us today. Each day. Every day. For good. Because it matters.
“The Work of Christmas” by Howard Thurman
When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.
Amen.
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