“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor….” (Luke 4:18)
Wherever there was a Jewish community in first century Judea, the synagogue was at the center of community life. It’s where Jews prayed in common, the Scriptures were read, children were taught, and visitors welcomed. It’s where people gathered to study and debate Jewish law, history, and tradition.
Interestingly and perhaps surprisingly, the synagogue was not a priestly organization, but a lay one, where religious services were conducted by members of the congregation or guests. Sacrifice was not conducted there, since sacrifice could be offered only by priests and only in the temple at Jerusalem. According to archeologists, the place itself, especially in small towns like Nazareth, was usually very modest with no prescribed layout or design other than separate sections for men and women.
In Jesus’ time, the Sabbath service began when someone was invited by the synagogue attendant (the chazzan) to intone the great proclamation of the Jewish faith – the Shema Israel, the proclamation of Moses recorded in the Book of Deuteronomy. Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might….
Following the Shema, a long prayer was recited, a section of the law was read in Hebrew, and then translated or paraphrased in Aramaic. Then a homily was offered, psalms and other prayers were often sung and (if a priest happened to be present) there was a final blessing.
The Gospels tell us that, as an observant Jew, Jesus regularly attended synagogue, not just in Nazareth, his home town, but throughout the region of Galilee, where he actively participated, taught, read from and offered commentaries on Scripture. By that time of his life, at about age 30, already an accomplished teacher and preacher, his reputation for wisdom and holiness was widespread. In today’s reading from Luke, he’s visiting his home synagogue in Nazareth, it’s a Sabbath morning, and the scroll of Isaiah is handed to him. Jesus unrolls it carefully, reverently, until he finds exactly the place he has in mind. As was the custom, he then stands up to read the text:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed me to bring glad tidings 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.” Then he rolls up the scroll, hands it back to the attendant and sits down to instruct, as teachers did. His commentary that day was dramatically brief: “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” he says, as a hush falls over the crowd and everyone gazes at him in amazement. Jesus declares himself to be Israel’s long awaited Messiah, born 30 years earlier in humble circumstances, and now ready to change forever the course of human history.
The moment was critical, obviously, both for Jesus and for everyone who sees and hears him. In the account of his baptism (the gospel reading two Sundays’ ago), the heavens open and the Holy Spirit descends upon him in the form of a dove. Now we learn why: “to bring glad tidings -- good news” to the world. On that fateful day in Nazareth, Jesus formally inaugurates his mission, the reason God took on human form, the cause for our celebration of Christmas a month ago.
For the chosen people, the centuries of waiting are over. A new era begins. But the fulfillment of God’s promise through the prophets has nothing to do with political power. Jesus redefines that fulfillment – synonymous with his mission – as liberation for the poor, for the sick of heart, for everyone in need, everyone who longs for meaning in life. It’s a message of hope not just for the materially poor, but for the spiritually poor as well, which includes all of us. It’s a message of hope, not just for a particular group of people, but for all people who long for right relationship, for union with God. At last, grace comes to all held captive by whatever constraints -- economic, political, physical, emotional, mental, or moral. Glad tidings, indeed!
In an important way, that verse from Isaiah sums up his entire life and death. Jesus not only preaches God’s unconditional love for everyone, but his life personifies and demonstrates it. The blind are literally given sight, those held captive by illness, sin, and death are, in fact, delivered. In the three short years of his earthly ministry, the year of God’s favor, the traditional Jewish jubilee year, does indeed arrive once and for all.
The words by which Jesus begins his public ministry are filled with hope for the poor, the helpless, and the oppressed. Those words, however, are not self-executing. The kingdom of God on earth will come about only if we, his followers, do our part to help build it. With every act of kindness, we lay another brick. Every time we forgive, every time we go out of our way to help someone, every time we do justice, we bring the kingdom a bit closer to reality.
Last Monday our nation celebrated the birthday of Martin Luther King Jr. who as a civil rights leader did his part to bring “glad tidings” of equal protection under law to all Americans. Nelson Mandela in striving to end apartheid helped bring “glad tidings” of racial equality to South Africa. Mahatma Gandhi did the same for people in India, working to free them from British colonial rule. Susan B. Anthony, Elizabeth Cady Stanton and others in the beginning of the last century brought “glad tidings’ to American women, helping them gain their rightful status as full fledged citizens. And the list goes on and on.
But you don’t have to be famous or to perform great deeds to be a bearer of “glad tidings.” Small ones work just fine. A few days ago, for example, during one of Rochester’s notoriously cold and blustery winter days, warm and toasty in my car, I was slowly wending my way to work, downtown. Road conditions were awful; radio announcers advised motorists to avoid expressways. So, for reasons unknown to me at the time, I was taking an alternative route down East Avenue, which is not my customary alternative route on slow traffic days.
As my car inched toward the intersection of East and Alexander, I saw out of the corner of my eye, attempting to cross the intersection, a woman who works at the Hall of Justice, my destination. It was Rosie, 5 feet 6 inches tall and weighing no more than 100 pounds ringing wet, who lives alone in a nearby apartment. She was having a tough time negotiating a snow bank as she made her way to a bus stop across East Avenue. Although bundled up against the cold, I noticed Rosie was wearing sneakers!
I pulled over to the side of the road and called to her. She approached and I offered her a ride. She gladly accepted. As we chatted, I made her promise never again to wear only sneakers outdoors until about June. She then told me that just before I showed up, she prayed that God would send someone to give her a ride. I smiled, and since I know Rosie is a religious person and because humility has never been my strong suit, said: “Well, I’m the answer to your prayer.” We laughed and made small talk on our way to the Hall of Justice.
You and I are supposed to be bearers of “good news” to one another. That’s why today, once again, that passage from Isaiah is fulfilled in our hearing. Glad tidings, indeed!
Anthony J. Sciolino
3rd Sunday in Ordinary Time
January 25, 2004. (Cycle C)
Nehemiah 8:2-4a, 5-6, 8-10/69
Corinthians 12:12-30
Luke 1-4, 4:14-21.
Click here to link to the Hebrew text and translation referenced in this homily.