Luke 9:28-43 - "It's All in the Face"

         It was all in the face.  At least, that is what the Gospel writer of Luke implies in this amazing, astounding, miraculous, mysterious, voyeuristic, visionary story of what we have come to call the Transfiguration.  Of course, the fact that Jesus’ rough sewn muslin robe of dusty beige with a tear at the neck turned a startling bleached white that would have made Maytag and Whirlpool proud was rather impressive as well.

         It was really all in the face though, but, then again, it is always in the face.  The human face fascinates us.  Nursing babies are positioned just right to be able to gaze at their mother’s face.  It is in faces that we find most of our distinguishing features:  Harry Potter had his mother’s eyes.  The Hapsburgs had their jaw.  Pinocchio had that embarrassingly long nose.  And Santa Claus – well, “his eyes how they twinkled, his dimples how merry, his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.”

         Even our language reflects this facial fixation.  “We speak of taking things at "face value," or of doing an "about face," or of "facing off" against opponents. We "face the music," make "face time," and when dishonored we "lose face." "Face cards" carry the most value and to stand "face-to-face" with another signifies being in the most valued of positions. One of the most advanced new computer identification techniques is the science of "facial recognition" — computer programs that can scan and identify individual faces without any other physical information.” (Leonard Sweet)

         And, let’s face it:  If you spend much time at all on the internet, who can resist facebook – and poking around to discover both the public and private faces of all our friends?

         Yes, it was all in the face when it came to that remarkable experience that Peter, James, John – and Jesus himself – had on the mountaintop outside of Nazareth.  Jesus had left some of his disciples behind in the village and had asked James, Peter, and John to accompany him in prayer.  They set out in the early morning hours and hiked up an old goat trail that wound through the pucker brush to the summit of what was most likely Mt. Tabor. 

         Once there, Jesus knelt and prayed to God.  In the meantime, what with the sun being so warm and the hike so long, the disciples promptly fell asleep.  That being said, Peter, James, and John never really saw exactly what happened.  Just like we never see how a caterpillar morphs into a butterfly, so they missed that pivotal moment when Jesus began to glow. 

         By the time they woke up, Jesus’ clothes were like an advertisement for Clorox bleach and light was practically splitting the seams – but even more remarkable than that, the appearance of his face had changed, we are told.  The Gospel writer does not tell us exactly how it had changed, but we are left to presume that it shone even more brilliantly than his clothes and with a glory that we can only imagine. 

         And on one side of him was Moses the great Jewish leader and giver of the law/the Torah and on the other was Elijah the ancient and foundational Jewish prophet.  And they were talking to Jesus, talking about Jesus’ departure to Jerusalem, according to this particular Gospel writer.

         Did they tell Jesus that his destiny would be fulfilled in Jerusalem?  Did they tell him not to be afraid?  Did they tell him that while it might seem that he had been forsaken that in the end God would be there with him and for him?  Did they tell him there was still much to do along the way to the Holy City? 

         And Jesus, did he sense even more fully than perhaps he had before that what he must do and what he must say would change the course of human history?  Did he understand even better that his ministry of compassion and forgiveness – that “loving your neighbor as yourself” business – really was just what God intended for humanity?  Did he realize that it would all come to pass as his intuition told him - that in the not too distant future he would again be flanked by two men – this time criminals, rabble rousers made examples of by Roman authorities – all of them dying on rough hewn wooden crosses together?

         The Gospel writer does not tell us because the Gospel writer does not know.  But the Gospel writer does tell us that it was about this time that Peter, James, and John woke up.  None of three of them knew what to make of it all.  James and John remained in silent awe.  Peter, on the other hand, apparently an extrovert, started talking – which is what extroverts frequently do when they are not sure what else to do. 

         Peter suggested building little tents for each one of them – shelters, shrines, the beginnings of a seminary - and just as he was really getting on a roll, spouting off his plans for a chapel and dormitories – he was silenced by a dark and shadowy cloud, out of which came a voice that could only belong to God. “This is my Chosen One, listen to him.”

         And the cloud disappeared, the sun came out again, Moses and Elijah were long gone, and it was just Jesus – the one they knew, the familiar one, with the deep brown and gentle eyes, the kind lips, the determined chin.  The glory was gone.  The light was gone.  But as Jesus looked into the disciples’ eyes, he saw that they would never be the same – nor would he. 

         Episcopal priest, Barbara Brown Taylor puts it this way:  “I think it was something he learned on the mountain, when light burst through all his seams and showed him what he was made of. It was something he never forgot. If we have been allowed to intrude on that moment, it is because someone thought we might need a dose of glory too, to get us through the night.”

         They never told anyone – not the four of them – what happened up there on the summit of Mt. Tabor.  I mean, really!  Would you have breathed a word of it to just anybody?  Would people have thought them crazy?  Probably – you have to be careful with visionary experiences.

         However, no one really thought to ask about the mountaintop experience because when Jesus, Peter, James, and John returned to the village, they walked right into a crowd surrounding the other nine disciples.  Matthew, Judas, Andrew, and the others were hard at work trying – without success - to exorcise a particularly evil demon in a small child.  Today we call it epilepsy as that would explain the fit and foaming at the mouth. – a grand mal seizure. 

         From the glory of the mountaintop, Jesus returned to the chaos of the village.  From the majesty of the summit, Jesus returned to the confusion that is the stuff of which the ordinariness of life is made.

         Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem now – he and Moses and Elijah had talked about it – remember? However, he stopped anyway and healed this small boy.  A word, a touch, and the seizure ceased as quickly as it had begun.  And as tears coursed down his cheeks and got caught up in his beard, the boy’s father wiped the spittle from his son’s mouth and cheeks until his face was clean once more.    

         Whether you believe that this tale of the transfiguration is literally true – or is an explanation of a mysterious vision – or was a legend fostered in the early days of Christianity to explain the glory of God that dwelt in abundance in Jesus, surely there is something even the most cynical among us can glean from it.  Actually three things, I think.

         First of all, we must not belittle those so-called mountaintop experiences, those times when we feel the glory of God or the power of the Almighty around us.  There is such a tendency to write them off as not authentic - or even fabricated. 

         The Celtic Christians of Great Britain called these experiences “thin places” – where the veil between the holy and the ordinary is for a moment stripped away and the two those worlds become one.  For me, the Isle of Iona is a thin place – as is the sacred site of Choquechirao in Peru – and the lakes of Algonquin Park in Ontario. 

         Mountaintop experiences do not have to happen on mountains either – or even outdoors!  They may occur in stuffy hospital rooms – or at the moment a hand is held or a hug given and received.  They may happen at summer camps – or even in churches when communion is shared or the choir does a particularly wonderful job of telling our story in their songs. 

         When these experiences happen, we would be wise to give God the benefit of the doubt – that the Holy One is still speaking.  God may speak to us in visions – I know that has been true for some of you – or God may speak to us in silence or in the wisp of a dream.  Respect these invasions into the ordinary, respect them and just listen.  “This is my Chosen One.  Listen to him.”

         Second, Jesus did not stay on the mountaintop – and neither should we.  He was on his way to Jerusalem – and in a sense, because we follow him, we are too.  And as the season of Lent unfolds, we will see that going to Jerusalem is not at all what the disciples expected.  As Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “Later, when Jesus’ exodus got under way and they saw what it meant for him -- when they saw that shining face bloodied and spat upon, those dazzling clothes torn into souvenir rags -- I’ll bet they had to rethink what that glory was all about. His face did not shine on the cross.”  And yet, we follow him off the mountaintop and out of our churches.  We take up our crosses and follow him to Jerusalem – once there to finally understand what it means to die and be reborn.

         Third, Jesus understood that there was lots of work along the way to the Holy City.  It was not a straight shot to Jerusalem, but rather it was littered along the way with the beaten down and the battered:  A demon to be exorcised.  The sick healed.  A crippled cured – even on the Sabbath.  Always Jesus stopped.  He looked into the faces of the needy and the eyes of the blind.  He wiped tears from the cheeks of the lonely and watched the mouths of the hungry being fed. 

         And so for us – and for this church – there is lots of work along the way.   We too will see the faces of the broken and the lonely and the ones whom society has chewed up and spat out.  Their faces should haunt us, for they are the crosses that we carry.  They are the ones we are called to stop for along the way to the Holy City, on the way to new life. 

         Francis Dorff wrote a wonderful story called "The Rabbi's Gift."   It goes like this:

         There was a famous monastery, which had fallen on hard times.  Few pilgrims came to seek guidance, and few young people became monks. At last, there was only a handful of elderly monks going about their work, their prayer, their study with heavy hearts.

         One day, the abbot of the monastery went to visit the local hermit rabbi. They greeted one another, and then went into the simple hut where the rabbi lived.  They sat there, silently prayed, and then the abbot began to weep. He poured out his concern for the monastery and for the spiritual health of the monks.

         Finally, the rabbi said, 'You seek a teaching from me and I have one for you. It is a teaching which I will say to you and then I will never repeat. When you share this teaching with the monks, you are to say it once and then never to repeat it. The teaching is this. Listen carefully. "The Messiah is among you."

         The abbot returned to monastery, gathered the monks, and told them the teaching: “The Messiah is among you.”   The monks began to look at one another ( and treat one another) in a whole new light.  Is Brother John the messiah? Or Father James? Am I the messiah?

         Each one of them might be the messiah, and the few pilgrims who still came to the monastery noted this new treatment of one another, this new sense of expectation,. And soon the word spread. What a spirit of concern and compassion and expectation can be felt at the monastery!  As you might guess, the monastery began to flourish once more – all because they looked into the faces on one another and saw each other as people of worth. 

         And so you see, the Gospel writer of Luke was right.  It is all in the face – for in each one of us shines the eyes of Jesus and the glory of God.

by Rev. Nancy Foran

www.rvccme.org

Luke 4:21-30 - "Preachin' or Meddlin'?"

         There was once a pastor who was preaching a most wonderful sermon.  Everything was going smoothly, and the people in the pews were smiling and nodding in approval.  However, when he started to wrap up his reflection and bring his congregation round to his conclusion, he said something a might bit controversial.

         No sooner were the words out of his mouth than one of the old pillars of the church stood up - right then and there - and started preaching a sermon of his own.  This saint of the congregation ranted and raved for a good five minutes, all the while pointing and wagging his finger at the pastor. 

         Finally, the parishioner sat down, red-faced and out of breath. What happened next, I am not entirely certain. Most likely there was an embarrassed silence followed by a bit of coughing before the church musician loudly played the first notes of the final hymn, which the  choir and congregation stood up to sing, breathing a great sigh of relief.

         Later in the week, however, the pastor drove out to visit the impromptu preacher and asked him, "What happened?"

         Still angry, the elderly gentleman blurted out, "I'll tell you exactly what happened, preacher, you went from preaching to meddlin'!" (Philip McLarty)

         Where does one draw the line?  When does a sermon go from “preaching to meddlin’?  And who makes that call?  You certainly do not get those answers in seminary – and just as the preacher in the story did not see eye to eye with his congregation, so it was with Jesus when he read scripture and preached his first sermon in the synagogue in Nazareth.

         Our Gospel reading this week actually begins where we left off last Sunday.  If you will recall, Jesus had read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah:

God’s Spirit is on me;
he’s chosen me to preach the Message of good news to the poor,
Sent me to announce pardon to prisoners and
recovery of sight to the blind,
To set the burdened and battered free,
to announce, “This is God’s year to act!”

         Then, you might remember – to the admiring clucks and comments of the congregation – Jesus sat down – as was the custom - and preached an eight word sermon:  “Today these words are fulfilled in your hearing.”

         Now most people in the congregation were only half listening to what Jesus said, and a few had their eyes closed (as is the way with congregations and sermons (no matter how short)), but for the most part they were all surprised at how well the young rabbi spoke – even if they were not all that clear about what he had actually said. 

         Not so with the old synagogue saint – a pillar of the assembly!  He had been listening, and Jesus’ words had sunk in. Though he did not stand up to rant and rave as the elderly gentleman in the story I told did, this riled up congregant did remark loud enough so that everyone could hear:  “Isn’t this Joseph’s son, the one we’ve known since he was a youngster?” 

         “I mean, look who’s talking!’ he continued disparagingly.  “Just who does he think he is! Getting too big for his britches, I’ll tell you that!  Thinks because he got out of this backwater town for a while – seen the world – that he can be figurin’ he’s holier than us?

         Precocious young punk!  Come on, he grew up in that old carpenter’s shop right down on Main Street.  Born out of wedlock too, he was – and with questionable parentage.  Remember all that flap about the Holy Spirit?  His mother was downright crazy.  I mean, come on!”

         Now what happened next really was Jesus’ fault.  I mean, if he had kept his mouth closed, everything would have been OK.  He probably would have had a nice meal cooked by some overbearing Jewish mother, but at least he would have left Nazareth on good terms and a full stomach.  He would have avoided that whole nearly being thrown off the cliff incident and the sense of being railroaded out of his hometown.

         But no!  Jesus instead went and rocked the boat, making a snarky remark about prophets not being welcome in their hometowns and that Nazareth would never be the ancient equivalent of Lourdes with crutches and wheelchairs lying about as evidence of healings and miracles.   

         But even if he had just stopped there, he might still have gotten a good meal after the service, but no!  Perhaps being a bit riled up himself just now, he answered the old man’s hostile observations with his own brand of hostility.  That is, he referenced two stories from the Hebrew scriptures that undoubtedly spoke a profound truth but were also handpicked to infuriate the congregation. 

         The first was a tale about the beloved ancient prophet Elijah.  As Baptist pastor Randy Hyde writes:  “Israel went through a three-and-a-half year drought which produced a tremendous famine. Widows were being made all over the place, but when it came time for the prophet to give his attention to just one of them, it happened to be a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. Simply read this from Luke's gospel and it won't mean anything to you. Do a little homework, however, and you will discover that the widow in Zarephath was a Gentile. That gets the good folk in Nazareth a bit warm under the collar.”

         (The second story had to do with) “Elisha, disciple of and spiritual successor to Elijah. He lived in a day, Jesus says, in which lepers roamed in large numbers. Not one of them - not one - was cleansed, except for Naaman the Syrian. (If you are familiar with this story,…. you will be aware that Naaman was a Gentile.”

         There was a common theme developing here, and the synagogue folk did not like it.  And the reason they resented this interpretive twist was that it ran counter to what they had always believed.  

         Methodist lay minster Bill Peddie reminds us that the Jewish population “associated their beliefs with a strong sense of a localized God who had guided their history as the chosen people – and further that all their history was bound up with a popular notion that God traditionally took their side against the troublesome enemies who surrounded them on every side….(In the Elisha story particularly,) Jesus reminded his audience (that Elisha) had not cured any of the many lepers in Israel, but instead had healed the commander of the enemy army.

         The unacceptable notion that God would help an enemy of Israel prosper, particularly while ignoring those (God) should have been expected to heal, was directly counter to (their beliefs) at the time and we can well believe that this would infuriate those who believed that they alone were the chosen people.”

         I cannot emphasize enough how repugnant those two stories would have been to these stalwart synagogue goers.  Not surprisingly, they were speechless, feeling their only recourse was to rid themselves of this man Jesus – perhaps like we all wish to do when the truth hits too close to home.  No wonder that they rose up in righteous indignation and tried literally to fling him over a local cliff. 

         Of course, the Gospel writer tells us that Jesus passed through the midst of his accusers and went on his way.  And we know that it will not be the last time that people will resort to violence to silence Jesus – nor will it be the last time that he overcomes such violence to once again go on his way – this time down through the centuries and millennia even to us here today. 

         Now the question for the congregation in that ancient synagogue was this:  Who was this man Jesus to tell them that God’s mercy and liberation and healing were meant for everyone – and not just for the Jewish people? 

         For us, the answer is easy – though it helps to have 2000 years of hindsight.  Jesus is the embodiment of all that God wants for the world and aspires the world to be – a compassionate humanity committed to justice, a human race that has pushed the margins so far in all directions that everyone is included under the vast umbrella of grace.  For we who our Christians, Jesus is indeed the Word (God’s Word of justice and compassion and reconciliation and peace and, today most of all, inclusiveness, God’s Word) made flesh, dwelling among us, breaking into our neighborhoods and gated communities.

         And so, for us – we who are a congregation not in an ancient synagogue but in a modern church – surely we are asked to reflect on what Jesus has put forth in this tale - that we too – even today -  are called to find value in the ones who are not like us – in the foreigners.  For the synagogue goers to whom Jesus spoke, it was the Gentiles like Naaman and the widow at Zarephath.  For us it is those who do not share our sexual preferences, our political leanings, even our Christian beliefs. 

         Methodist pastor John van der Laar remarks “it's tragic that Christianity has too often been more like the people of Nazareth than like Jesus. We love to hear people speaking about Jesus as Messiah. We love to hear how God's Reign has come to us. But, when someone points out how inclusive Jesus was, we find all sorts of excuses to deny it.

         When we are challenged by the Gospel to welcome those whom we believe are "sinners" or "outside" of God's "chosen ones", we would rather attack the messenger than do the difficult work of opening our hearts. We all have those we struggle to love. We all have those whom we believe are undeserving of God's grace….The challenge of the Gospel is the way it calls us constantly to expand our welcome and inclusion until all people discover that they are actually "in" with God. This challenging journey into radical, inclusive grace” is our journey.

         And so we are called to quit separating ourselves into exclusive camps and instead find common ground – seek out the interdependence we so desperately need to survive in this crazy world but more importantly to ensure that God’s Kingdom thrives.  If we cut ourselves off from those we do not understand or agree with, we are stunting our growth as God’s daughters and sons. 

         Is it an easy shift?  No.  Will it take time and enormous intentionality?  Yes.

         Jesus was clearly rubbing people the wrong way when he took on the old codger near the back of the synagogue.  But that is what Jesus always seems to do – back in the first century CE and still today.  There we always find him - crossing boundaries, pushing the envelope, finding the forgotten ones, going back for those left behind, raising up the least, loving in ways that are so new, so amazing, so outrageous – and all the while calling us to follow in his footsteps and do the same.  “Trust steadily in God, (we are told) hope unswervingly, love extravagantly. And the best of the three is love.”

         But, you know what else is true?  Jesus always leaves us with a choice – always – the choice to open ourselves to God’s grace and to the kingdom or to throw him and the truth he proclaims over the cliff.

         It is like that story of the evangelist Bill Sunday. In a sermon, he said something critical of local labor conditions.  After the service, several businessmen sent him a message, which read: “Billy, leave labor matters alone. Concentrate on getting people saved. Stay away from political issues. You’re rubbing the fur the wrong way”.

         Billy Sunday sent this message back to them: “If I’m rubbing the fur the wrong way, tell the cats to turn around”.

         Is it preaching?  Or is it meddlin’?  Or is it the Gospel?

  by Rev. Nancy Foran, Raymond VIllage Community Church

www.rvccme.org

 

          

        

         

Luke 4:14-21 - "Shortest Sermon"

         Four years ago, my cell phone rang early on the morning of January 20^th.  It was our son, Paddy, who had been standing for quite some time on the mall in Washington, DC, in the freezing cold, amidst 1.8 million other people, waiting to hear President Obama’s first inaugural address. 

         He and a friend had started making their way to the mall from their downtown apartment at 5:00 A.M.  To this day, Paddy considers the morning of January 20, 2009 to be some of the most memorable hours of his life.  The excitement of a first time experience, of singing along with old and young as he stood elbow to elbow both for warmth and in solidarity is something he says he will never forget. 

         As Paddy watched the first African-American take the oath of the Office, he knew intuitively that he was part of an historic moment – something that those people who sat in the congregation of the synagogue in Nazareth more than 2000 years ago probably did not know as they listened to Jesus read from the Holy Hebrew Scriptures and preach his first sermon.         

         Nazareth was a rather obscure, backwater town with a population of about 500.  Many villagers would have known Jesus – the local lad – now some sort of itinerant rabbi – who was either just passing through or who perhaps had decided to come back home. 

         According to the writer of the Gospel of Luke, Jesus had been recently baptized by John in the Jordan River and then had been whisked away by the Holy Spirit to spend 40 days of serious abstinence, prayer, and reflection in the wilderness.  Now returned from his retreat, Jesus had begun preaching and teaching. 

         Interestingly enough, our Gospel writer does not have Jesus healing the sick, exorcising demons, and multiplying loaves and fishes just yet.  No – instead, the writer tells us that Jesus wandered the countryside, stopping in towns and villages along the way: telling stories, listening to the concerns of the peasantry, perhaps even trying out different ways of putting the gist of his ministry into words.  Now, he was finally returning home – to his roots – where he would formally lay out his agenda, articulate his mission statement, share his vision, and offer his own inaugural address.         

         Apparently Jesus had been asked to be the liturgist for the weekly Shabbat service – a reader of Scripture, a guest preacher of sorts.  When he stood up, a couple of the old timers in the back row nudged each other, nodding their heads, and smiling – home town boy made good, back with us now, “that’s our boy – right here” – and the Jewish mothers fluttered their hands, clucking to one another, and glancing at their young unmarried daughters, hoping, hoping that this handsome lad would come back to their house for a post-service meal. 

         Jesus opened the scroll, quickly found his place, and read in a loud and clear voice.  He read confidently, with much expression, and with great passion because he knew that he was not reading a jumble of words strung together.  He was reading his story, their story.  Through Jesus, the prophet Isaiah came alive to all who had gathered in the synagogue:

God’s Spirit is on me;
    

he’s chosen me to preach the Message of good news to the poor,


Sent me to announce pardon to prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind,


To set the burdened and battered free,
    

To announce, “This is God’s year to act!”

         When the reading was done, Jesus rolled up the scroll, gave it to the assistant, and sat down, for that was the custom in those days.  And the Jewish mothers clucked some more and glanced pointedly at their unmarried daughters.  Look alert Rebekah!  The boy Jesus would be a good catch indeed!  United Methodist elder, Alyce S. McKenzie, describes the reaction of the congregation this way:  “The people buzzed with admiration. ‘Such a beautiful passage …a lovely passage! And his voice, so melodious! His eyes, so glowing. His manner, so confident!....What a fine speaker!...We are mesmerized! What uplifting and comforting words will he have for us?’’

         And they all listened intently for Jesus’ reflection – the sermon - on the Scripture.  And Jesus looked out at the full assembly, noticing that all of them were sitting there in the ancient synagogue equivalent of the comfortable pew. 

         And when he spoke, it seemed that he spoke to each person individually.  And when he spoke, he preached one of the shortest sermons in history.  And when he spoke, he said, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” 

         That was it.  You know, Jesus would have flunked any seminary preaching course with that one – no doubt about it.  Not only was the sermon not the requisite 15-20 minutes long, but it contained no jokes designed to make you laugh.  It offered no pithy illustrations to capture your attention and make the message clear. 

         Apparently Jesus thought that his message was clear enough. Next week we shall learn just what the congregation in Nazareth thought of that sermon.  But for now, suffice it to say that even as we read this same passage all these millennia later – the sermon is the same.  “Today - this Scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”

         And what does this Scripture say?  Good news for the poor, release to the captives, sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, and even what is called the Year of Jubilee! 

        Presbyterian pastor Phil Windsor tells us what this Year of Jubilee was all about in one of his own sermons: The Year of Jubilee (he says) was “set at every seven years and every fifty years, ‘no business as usual can be done...slaves must be given their freedom...families can return to lands lost in litigation...farmland and field get a Sabbath of rest, for there can be no planting or harvesting; debts are...cancelled, there's to be a moratorium on marketing and the commoditizing of life.’ The Jubilee Year is to be a fore-taste and celebration of the Kingdom of Heaven. “Liberation, restoration, health restored, jails unlocked, land returned: a whole array of social justice revolutions.’”

         This Scripture, this “whole array of social justice revolutions” is Jesus’ agenda, an outline of his ministry, the foundation of his gospel.  This Scripture is Jesus’ inaugural address, his vision, his challenge to each one of us – and it is all about our connection to the poor, the marginalized, the battered, and the beaten.  That single relationship is the essence of Jesus’ politics – and so it must be at the core of ours as well.        

         As retired Episcopal priest Grant Gallop says, “There isn't a word in Jesus' inaugural address about anything BUT social justice issues: there's no talk about the sanctity of private property, the glory of the free market, nor the duty to pray three times a day or to avoid eating ham hocks or lobster tails. Nothing about swift and certain hanging for capital offenses. Nothing that you might expect from a religious leader. It's all about how society is to be changed--how there's to be a kinder, gentler society.”

         If I were to ask you why Jesus came to this earth, how would you answer? Maybe some of you would reply, “He came to save us.” Or, “He came to die for our sins.” Or, “He came to show us God loved us.” Or, “He came to fulfill what was said about Him in the Old Testament.”

         But, you know, the Gospel writer of Luke would disagree with all of these abstract theological and, in many ways, future-oriented notions.  The Gospel writer of Luke is concerned with restoration of this world and transformation of our lives now – today – and that is why he or she chose to begin the story of Jesus’ ministry with this very short sermon based on the 61^st chapter of Isaiah.

This Scripture is the way, the road map, the route to find Jesus.  And that can mean only one thing for us:  If we are drawn to Jesus as his followers, if we see church as anything other than a social time, then we have no choice but to be drawn to his message as well – or we are just kidding ourselves using the term “Christian” to label our religious preferences. 

         And so the question for us is this: Is the Spirit of the Lord upon us – this congregation – this church family?  Because if it is, no matter how inadequate we might feel at times, we – you and I - are the hands, feet, heart, eyes, ears, brains, and lungs of Jesus. 

         And because of that, because we are the Body of Christ, Jesus calls us to sing out the Good News and to strategize the best way to get that pivotal message out to the most people.  He calls us to fill the bowls of the hungry and to walk for the sick.  He calls us to proclaim our solidarity with the ones that society has left on the sidelines and to listen for the people crying into the bleak darkness of their lives.   He calls us to do all of these things - because the spirit of the Lord is upon us too. 

         As Methodist blogger Jim Parsons so eloquently wrote, “The one who is to come, has come. The one who will set the people free has broken the chains.  The one who ushered us into the kingdom of God is watching and waiting for you to do your part. What we can take from these scriptures is an example of how. Jesus could not do it without the Spirit and neither can we. ….So our challenge is to find our roles, find our calling, find what we are created for, and then to proclaim it and do it.

         Just do it, as the Nike Corporation reminds us.  Just do it - but not in some future time.  Just do it today.  That is also the message of this Scripture. 

         Jesus says that it is fulfilled today.  And so we are not called to live in the past and remember the good old days and only sing the good old hymns and be imprisoned by the way things used to be.  And we are not called to live in the future either, dreaming of an ideal tomorrow.  Some day there will be peace.  Some day the world will be a better place.  Someday our church will have the money and the volunteers to do everything we ought to be doing.  Some day I’ll go to heaven, and everything will be OK. 

         We are called to fulfill this Scripture today – and that is terrifying because it means that we  - as individuals and also as the church – this church – are called to radical action now.  Jesus is saying that the impossible can and is happening today – even as we speak.  In other words, the train is leaving the station.  Are we on it?

         That, of course, is a question each one of us must answer, but if you are inclined to answer in the affirmative, then I challenge you to bring something – an idea, a suggestion – to the Annual Meeting today that will fulfill this Scripture as Jesus calls us to fulfill it. 

What are we doing here in this church (and what might we do more or better) to fulfill the Scripture:

To preach the message of good news to the poor,


To announce pardon to prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind,


To set the burdened and battered free,
    

        

         This is our story, our Scripture, our calling, and if we intentionally work together to live that story, fulfill that Scripture, and pursue that calling and if people outside of these four walls see that in all we do we are indeed the small church with the big heart,

then I believe – I totally believe - that as a faith community we will grow with like-minded individuals and families who also, like us, want to honestly announce:  “This is God’s year to act!”