The Gospel of Mercy [Epiphany 3C - Luke 4:14-21]

 The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Luke 4:14-21

 

The Gospel of Mercy

St. Luke’s, Cambridge

 

Definitely, they were not going to try to kill him.

 

They were excited for Jesus’ homecoming.  He was a good kid.  He came from a solid family.  They were glad he was going to be stomping his old stomping grounds again.  His parents probably busily readied his old room.  His friends made plans to catch up.  It would be just like that freshman year Thanksgiving break – the first time back after being away: late nights, great stories, mom’s cooking.  And so they definitely were not going to try to kill him.

 

And there was now a buzz surrounding him; that was fun.  People were praising him in the surrounding villages.  Jesus was becoming a big deal.  And a big deal Jesus was a big deal for their sleepy little village.  And so, again, they were excited and definitely not going to try to kill him.

 

It was cool watching him walk into the synagogue as a confident adult.  It was the Sabbath and so everyone was there.  They remembered how he used to squirm in the back and sometimes sing a little too loudly like toddlers do when they recognize the tune.  But now Jesus was up front.  And today he was going to teach in this synagogue – their synagogue, his synagogue.  Finally. 

 

He had been making the rounds for a little while.  The other congregations in the area were amazed at his teaching, his knowledge of the Scriptures, his wisdom.  And his charisma.  He was only 30 years old and yet, somehow, he was timeless.  It was nice that everyone else, in the neighboring towns, was celebrating him.  But this was his home.  And that was special.  And it made them feel special.  He was their guy.

 

And so it was a big deal when he was given the scroll, a great scroll, the scroll of the prophet Isaiah.  Isaiah is an incredible book, a prophetic treasure trove.  There is a lot of good stuff in there; inspiring sermons practically jump off of every page.  Admittedly, there are some intense passages too, but they knew Jesus wasn’t looking for those.  This was a day of celebration and there was a lot of beautiful, powerful, hopeful poetry from which to choose.  Breath bated, they expected great things; they expected Jesus to blow them away, to make them feel good, to make them proud.

 

Jesus unrolled that scroll.  And what he found inside was beautiful, powerful, and hopeful: he found mercy.  And everyone loves a sermon about mercy, right?  So Jesus preached mercy – the radical mercy of God that he claimed, on the spot, would be his personal mission in the world.  That mercy was good news to the poor.  And they were rural peasants, hand to mouth, and so they were glad.  It was release for those held captive.  And because they were the descendants of an Exodus people, heirs of the exilic generation, they were glad.  It was the gift of sight to the blind.  And they were in need of healing because they were human, and so they were glad.  It was freedom for those weighed down by oppression.  And they lived under the cruel thumb of the Roman Empire, and so they were glad.  This mercy was the manifestation of the Lord’s favor.  And they were desperate to bask in the glow of forgiveness and grace, and so, again, they were glad.

 

Jesus stepped out of the pulpit and sat down.  And there was nothing but smiles and silence in that synagogue.  It was everything they had hoped for.  They felt so good in the afterglow that no one even batted an eye when, from his seat, Jesus made the stunningly bold messianic claim: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”  They were just glad.  And in their amazement they set the room humming with complimentary murmurs; people were saying a lot of nice things about Jesus.  And definitely they did not want to kill him.  The end.

 

At least the end of today’s Gospel passage.  What the lectionary leaves out today, by ending with the 21^st verse, is what happens next.  Jesus gets back up.  It was over and then Jesus steps back into the pulpit.  It was already a good sermon.  Everybody liked it.  No one wanted to kill him at all.  But he stood back up.  And he said more things.  And the smiles quickly turned upside down.  And the compliments transformed into a bitter rage.

 

Honestly, 2000 years later, the other things that Jesus said don’t really seem all that controversial.  Jesus just made the mercy bigger.  He reminded the people that God’s mercy is never limited to just one person or one village or even one nation.  It was for them but not just for them.  There were other people experiencing poverty in the world, too.  And there were other captives waiting to be released; and others who couldn’t see; and other people who were oppressed and marginalized and abused; and there were others, people all over this globe, who longed to bask in the Lord’s favor.  And God’s mercy is for them too because God loves them too.  In fact, God loves them just as much. 

 

And this wasn’t novel or new.  Jesus reminded his hometown crowd that God’s mercy has always been incredibly wide, impossibly accessible.  And to prove his point Jesus tells them a couple of Bible stories – stories that they knew – examples of God showing mercy to foreigners and even to those they considered their enemies. 

 

And the congregation was really offended.  And even though Jesus was one of them, the actually did try to kill him.  And that is the end of this story.

 

Except that again, it isn’t really.  The end of the story is that eventually Jesus is killed, by powerful people who bristle at his message.  And, those powerful people, religious and political leaders, kill Jesus with the overwhelming support of the crowds, crowds that cried, “Crucify him!” 

 

And of course he didn’t deserve that.  Jesus healed people; he raised the dead; he showed kindness to good people and to people who probably didn’t deserve it.  And he preached about the kingdom of God – a kingdom established on the foundation of the Greatest Commandment and ruled by the One whose mercy endures forever.  That was his message and Jesus was killed because of that message.  It is a message that we call Good News.  But a lot of people didn’t like it.  And they wanted to stop it.  And that feels strange because it seems like everyone would love Good News. 

 

But humans are complicated.  And historically, we’ve had a complicated relationship with the Good News, and with the radical expectations of the Gospel.  Like, we love the idea of love, but also within reason.  And it is great to receive mercy, but not always as fun to watch others get off too easily. 

 

And that was the problem.  The congregation loved the sermon when they thought Jesus was just comforting them, but they hated it when they realized Jesus was challenging the limits of their kindness.

 

When Jesus got back up, Jesus went too far.  And his expansive vision of mercy produced rage.  And they did try to kill Jesus on that day.  Because on that day, they were convinced that Jesus was unfair to them. 

 

And I guess they were right: Jesus was unfair to them – but only in the same way that Jesus is unfair to us: He loves us far more than we deserve.  And that is the Good News.  Being unfair is God’s greatest act of mercy.  Because none of us deserve mercy.  But we get it.  And because we get it, we are called to show mercy.  As Jesus makes so clear in this Gospel, mercy is the mission – his and now ours.