One of the things I hope to impart to Norah is a love
for reading. It’s something my parents instilled in me from a very early age. I
can’t say I remember any picture books in particular, but I do remember curling
up with my siblings and mom while she read The
Boxcar Children to us before bed. As I got older, I remember being
captivated by Piers Anthony and Madeline L’Engle and Stephen King. I would
carry their books around with me at school, snatching every chance I got to
read a page or two when I had an extra minute. I would stay up way too late,
with a flashlight under the covers, to finish one more chapter, or to find out
if the hero would escape from the trap, or to discover the next clue to the
unraveling mystery.
I remember a particular trip we took to the beach. I
was reading one of the books in L’Engle’s A
Wrinkle in Time series, and for some
reason the thought hit me: they are in there
– the characters – just waiting for me to pick this book up and bring them to
life. That’s it: they’re alive! From
then on, it was very difficult for me to put books down.[1]
So Jillian and I read to Norah every night, even
though it’s hard to tell exactly how the words affect her. To date, the
greatest mystery we have come across is: Who took Gossie the Gosling’s shoes?
The biggest thrill: How will Harold and his purple crayon survive after falling
off the cliff he drew for himself? It’s not terribly exciting, but it’s fun –
especially when I can use different voices. The science (and more importantly,
my heart) tells me it’s important. I want her to know the joy, the thrill, the magic that comes in the moment of
realization: these people are alive!
For the people in our reading from Nehemiah, it had
been a long, long time since anyone had read to them from the “book of the Law
of Moses” – what we now refer to as the first five books of the Old Testament.[2]
The story takes places a short time after the exiles have returned from their
captivity in Babylon. Decades earlier, many of those who lived in the Holy Land
were deported to Babylon, including most of the religious leaders and many of
the people who could read. Now Ezra, a priest, has returned to Israel, and as
the story begins, we learn that “all the people” – men, women, even children
old enough to understand[3]
– have asked him to read scripture to them. It may have been decades since they
heard the stories in these books, and they are so captivated that they end up
listening for at least six hours!
The words stir up strong emotions in them – indeed,
they find themselves crying at times. The text doesn’t tell us which passages
they heard that morning (surely they didn’t make it all the way from Genesis
through Deuteronomy in only six hours), but I wonder which ones would evoke
such tears. Could it have been the rainbow painted across the sky as Noah and
his family stepped onto dry land after the flood? The moment of profound relief
as God stayed Abraham’s hand just before he sacrificed his son Isaac? The pain
of sibling rivalry so deep that Joseph’s brothers would sell him into slavery?
Did they identify with the Jews in Egypt who felt abandoned by God before Moses
returned to liberate them? Or did they connect more with the feelings of
uncertainty and lost-ness that accompanied those same people as they wandered
for forty years in the wilderness?
Professor Matt Skinner points out that, though the
people are moved to tears, Ezra and the other teachers encourage them not to
mourn, but to rejoice. “The move is to joy,” he explains. “And why? It’s not
‘Yay, we found the law!’ or ‘Yay, we found scripture!’ But ‘Yay, we’ve
encountered a God who refuses to stay put, who spreads out, who wants to be
known, who provides a means to be
known: through a book, through words, through stories, through commands,
through traditions.”[4]
Whatever Ezra read, it brought God to life for these
people. It helped them to see their place in the story of God’s ongoing
creation.
In our selection from Luke, we know exactly what Jesus
read when he stood up in the synagogue. At that time, any male could volunteer
to pray, read passages of scripture, or give the sermon.[5]
Jesus was a regular worshipper at the synagogue, and after being given the
scroll of the prophet Isaiah, he turned to chapter 61, verses one and two:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,” he read, “because
God has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; 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.” He stopped reading there.
Interestingly, that’s only the first half of verse two. The second half says,
“and the day of vengeance of our God.”[6]
So if you hear people criticizing those who “pick and choose” what parts of the
Bible they follow, just keep in mind that Jesus, apparently, did the same
thing!
After rolling up the scroll and sitting down, Jesus
said “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” Boom! If he
were holding a microphone, that would be the perfect line on which to drop it
and walk offstage.
It seems a little haughty, doesn’t it? And let’s not
forget that he’s saying this in his hometown: in front of the women who changed
his diapers, the siblings and cousins who sat at the kids’ table with him on
holidays, the friends he grew up playing kickball with, the teacher who gave
him a C-minus in chemistry, the men who taught him carpentry, the rabbis who
taught him how to read from the synagogue scroll in the first place! All these
people cared for him, loved him, encouraged him – but they also knew him. They
knew that he had a temper, that he could often be impatient, that he had an
irritatingly uncompromising sense of right and wrong, and that he could be
arrogant.
And, going back to the whole “changing his diapers”
thing: can I just say – from experience – that there is no better way to see a
person as utterly and completely human than to wipe her butt.
So, here we have this person, whom everyone (except
perhaps his mother) knows to be completely human, declaring that this passage
of prophecy from Isaiah is “fulfilled in your hearing.” Keep reading and you’ll
discover that Jesus’ preaching eventually got the synagogue crowd mad enough to
try and throw him off a cliff!
But what if his assertion wasn’t completely about
arrogance? What if Jesus was trying to make an even bigger claim? What if he
was trying to tell them not just about himself, but about Scripture itself?
“Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” We tend to place the
emphasis on “fulfilled,” because we know Jesus as the center and fulfillment of
all Scripture.
But try putting the emphasis on “today” instead. “Today this scripture is fulfilled.” Not
two-thousand years ago, not tomorrow or next week or when you were baptized or
when you were “saved” but today, right now, February 7, 2016 – this scripture
is fulfilled! Every time we read this passage – Jesus’ mission statement about
who he is and what he does – it is fulfilled in our hearing. Now is the time to bring good news to
the poor. Now is the time to proclaim
release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind. This year is the year of the Lord’s
favor.
Perhaps Jesus was saying, “These are not just words
written down hundreds of years ago. They are words that come to life – that
bring us to life – every time we read
them.” Perhaps he was saying, “Children of God, live this day as if it were
your first day, as if it were your last day, as if it were your only day.”[7]
These stories from Nehemiah and Luke are less about
what Scripture says and more about
what it does.[8]
Scripture brings God to life for us, and it brings us to life for God.
When Ezra read the words of Scripture to the
Israelites, God came to life for them. They were brought to tears of joy as
they heard the story of a living God who ceaselessly pursued their ancestors,
covenanting with them again and again, promising to be with them despite their
sins and shortcomings. They saw, in the ancient stories, a reflection of their
own story. We can do the same. We can look for God as we wander in the
wilderness of joblessness, or addiction, or grief. We can listen for God in the
exile of a missed opportunity, or a broken relationship, or a failed dream. We
can trust that God is present no matter where we are or what we have done, no matter
whether we can feel that presence or not. We can open up our minds, bodies, and
spirits as God comes alive for us.
When Jesus read from the scroll of Isaiah, he came to
life for God. He sat down and said, “These words will guide my life from now
on.” We can do the same. We can commit ourselves to seeking justice for the
poor and oppressed; to working for healing and wholeness for those who are
hurting; to seeing dignity and value in the lives of everyone we meet –
especially those whom the world tends to overlook; to lose our own lives and,
in so doing, to find our lives made new as we come alive for God.
Scripture is alive. It is a breathing, growing,
flourishing thing. It is our witness to THE Word (with a capital W), Jesus
Christ: the Word of God in flesh and blood and spirit. Because it is alive, it
can become part of our lives – today, here and now – guiding us and bringing us
joy. And, when we open ourselves to it, we become a part of the ongoing story
that Scripture tells: that good news comes to the poor, that the captives will
be released, that the blind will see and the oppressed will be freed, and that
the Lord’s favor is upon us all!
[1]
To be entirely honest, this epiphany may have come to me while reading a Star Trek novel – I just can’t quite
remember – but I thought A Wrinkle in
Time would sound a little more theologically impressive.
[3]
Robert Williamson, “Tamir Rice and the Anguish of our National Sin.” http://www.huffpost.com/us/entry/9010548
[4]
Matthew Skinner, Sermon Brainwave podcast #98: Third Sunday after Epiphany,
published January 17, 2010. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=109
[5]
See Acts 13:15, 42; 14:1; 17:2.
Linda McKinnish Bridges, Feasting on the Word: Year C, Vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. (287)
Linda McKinnish Bridges, Feasting on the Word: Year C, Vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. (287)
[6]
Carol Lakey Hess, Feasting on the Word:
Year C, Vol. 1. Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. (286)
[7]
Walter J. Burghardt, “What We Don’t Have is Time,” in Best Sermons, vol. 3. Harper & Row, 1990. (57)
[8]
Adapted from an idea by Matthew Skinner, Sermon Brainwave podcast #459: Third
Sunday after Epiphany, published January 16, 2016. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=709
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