Isaiah 62:1-5; Luke 4:16-21
Presented January 14th, 2007, by J.D. Kline
The Second Sunday after Epiphany
We’ve just begun a new series of Inquirers’ classes providing opportunity for persons new to our congregation to consider Church of the Brethren beliefs, traditions, and practices. One of the central qualities in the life of the Brethren that has dawn me through the years is our blending of the personal dimensions of faith with a passion for justice and peace. We have recognized that a life of faithfulness does not demand that we choose between personal spirituality and social justice, but rather that these two arms of faithful living go hand in hand.
Of course, Brethren are far from the only people who have recognized that the journey of faithfulness impacts all of life. Martin Luther King, Jr., whose leadership was so critical in the civil rights movement of this nation, helping us to embody more fully the values we had long espoused, was one who blended the personal and social arms of faith. In the midst of the bus boycott that began in Montgomery, Alabama in December 1955, King began to receive increasing numbers of obscene and threatening phone calls. One night, after a particularly menacing voice snarled threats into the phone, King found himself at wit’s end. Unable to get back to sleep, his nerves on edge, he sat for a long time in the kitchen of his home, brooding over a cup of coffee as it grew cold. King began to question how he might maneuver a graceful retreat from the increasingly burdensome leadership, and soon found himself praying aloud, “I am here taking a stand for what I believe is right. But now I am afraid. The people are looking to me for leadership, and if I stand before them without strength and courage, they too will falter. I am at the end of my powers. I have nothing left. I’ve come to the point where I can’t face it alone.” And then, in answer, King suddenly felt a resurgence of energy and inner peace, and it was as if a voice from the depths of his being was saying, “Stand up for righteousness. Stand up for truth, and God will be at your side forever.”
Several years later, in an article in Christian Century, King wrote:
Perhaps the suffering, frustration and agonizing moments which I have had to undergo occasionally as a result of my involvement in a difficult struggle have drawn me closer to God. Whatever the cause, God has been profoundly real to me in recent months. In the midst of outer dangers I have felt an inner calm and known resources of strength that only God could give. In many instances I have felt the power of God transforming the fatigue of despair into the buoyancy of hope. I am convinced that the universe is under the control of a loving purpose and that in the struggle for righteousness [we have] cosmic companionship.
One biblical commentator suggests that the Scriptures are filled with story after story of the people of God moving from one promise to promise, but often the pathway is “through dark valleys of anguish and despair” (The New Interpreters’ Bible, volume 6, p. 517). Surely that was the experience of the ancient Israelites, returning to their homeland from that bleak time of coerced exile in Babylon, only to discover Jerusalem and their beloved temple still in ruins. In this morning’s text from Isaiah, chapter 62, the prophet anticipates a time of thoroughgoing transformation:
For Zion’s sake I will not keep silent,
and for Jerusalem’s sake I will not rest,
until her vindication shines out like the dawn,
and her salvation like a burning torch.
The nations shall see your vindication;
and all the kings your glory;
and you shall be called by a new name
that the mouth of the Lord will give.
You shall be a crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord,
and a royal diadem in the hand of your God.
You shall no more be termed Forsaken,
and your land shall no more be termed Desolate;
but you shall be called My Delight is in Her,
and your land Married;
for the Lord delights in you… (62:2-5).
God, shouts the prophet, is doing something markedly new, with the newness being marked by the dawning of a new day, by a burning torch that shall light the pathway to the restored city of Jerusalem. With the blazing light shall come a new name, a new identity for the former exiles. Much like Martin Luther King, Jr. centuries later, the early exiles sense a powerful voice proclaiming that desolation and forsakenness shall not have the final word. Rather, the exiles shall experience a new energy, a new hope, a new purpose, a new peace, a new joy, as they sense God’s delight for them. Indeed, their very name shall now be, My Delight in is Her.
In this morning’s Gospel lesson Jesus offers a new identity to the people in his hometown of Nazareth, but it is not long before the people recognize that a new identity carries significant responsibility. More is being demanded of the people than they are willing to give.
Consider with me the story. Following his baptism and a period of temptation and discernment in the wilderness, Jesus begins his public ministry, and Luke 4 offers the earliest account of that ministry. Jesus speaks among and to people with whom he had grown up, and initially, we are told, “all spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth” (4:22). Indeed, Jesus chooses as his text words that likely were familiar to the Nazareth crowd, words that highlight Jesus’ understanding of his mission and ministry. Quoting from Isaiah 61, Jesus asserts:
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.
Jesus claims God’s Spirit as the controlling factor of his life and ministry, and it all sounds great to the home crowd—until Jesus challenges their comfortable perceptions that God’s salvation is their exclusive property. In the original text from Isaiah 61, verse 2 reads, “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God.” But Jesus omits the phrase about “the day of vengeance,” signaling a different emphasis than the people would have expected. There was a deep longing among the ancient Israelites for that day when Israel would be restored to power and prominence, and Israel’s enemies would be blasted away. But Jesus will have none of it, and when he notes the people’s confusion, he cites stories from the prophets Elijah and Elisha. Both relate incidents in which God’s gracious love and compassion are extended to people on the fringes, people generally considered to be beyond the realm of God’s care. The first story is of Elijah’s help for a Gentile widow in Sidon, and the second story is of Elisha healing a leper—a leper not from within the Jewish community, but rather Naaman the Syrian, commander of the enemy army.
It’s not really surprising that Jesus’ hearers become enraged. Jesus is announcing that God’s grace is far more inclusive than the people had ever imagined. Indeed, it is far more inclusive than they want it to be. They were drawn to the message of grace, they yearned for social justice, but they never anticipated that justice and grace being offered to all manner of people, including their enemies. As a result, so infuriated was the Nazareth crowd that they sought to kill Jesus, intending to hurl him off a cliff.
Through the ages many have sought to silence the voices of people of faith who have taken hold of the inclusive nature of Christ’s grace and Christ’s justice. Who can forget the powerful words of Martin Luther King, “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” penned in response to a number of fellow clergy urging King to move more slowly, to temper his message. King writes of initially being offended when he was characterized by fellow clergy as “extremist.” “But as I continued to think about the matter,” shares Martin Luther King,
I gradually gained a bit of satisfaction from being considered an extremist. Was not Jesus an extremist in love—“Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, pray for them that despitefully use you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice—“Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.” Was not Paul an extremist for the gospel of Jesus Christ—“I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus Christ.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist—“Here I stand; I can do no other, so help me God.”
King continues on in his letter, lamenting a church that had become weak and ineffectual. Asserts King,
There was a time when the church was very powerful. It was during that period when the early Christians rejoiced when they were deemed worthy to suffer for what they believed. In those days the church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society. Wherever the early Christians entered a town the power structure got disturbed and immediately sought to convict them for being “disturbers of the peace” and “outside agitators.” But they went on with the conviction that they were “a colony of heaven,” and had to obey God rather than [human law]. They were small in number but big in commitment. They were too God-intoxicated to be “astronomically intimidated.”
Yet today, are we not invited to live God-intoxicated lives, lives intimately connected to the God of compassion and peace, the God of mercy and righteousness, the God of justice and hope? In the midst of a world far more familiar with oppression, are we not called to live in ways that point to the promise of justice? In a world of rampant militarism, violence and war, does not the gospel of Jesus challenge us to embrace the ways of peace and nonviolence? And in a world often ruled by despair and disillusionment, are we not called to model the ways of hope?
God-intoxicated living includes both abiding personal faith and deep commitment to living and proclaiming the ways of justice. God-intoxicated living embraces both passionate spirituality and a commitment to those values that transform the very heart of human life—values of justice, compassion, nonviolence, and right living. Sisters and brothers, let us choose to live as God-intoxicated people.