“The year of the Lord’s favor” is the part of the text that Jesus reads at the synagogue in Nazareth. Given what’s in store for Jesus, what does “the year of the Lord’s favor” mean? Isn’t it a little contradictory? Do we get mixed up trying to respond to it?
Once I read a book of speculative fiction in which a political power arises in a world in which there actually is no God. It’s one of the book’s premises. This political power, however, is based on the highest humanitarian and ethical standards. The world goes to war – I forget the reason – and the bodies literally pile up. The ethical and humanitarian power is winning, and more bodies pile up. The response of the ethical and humanitarian power is sorrowful and kind. It is “We are so sorry but . . .”
I think we actually live in a world of “We are so sorry but . . .” We are so sorry . . . but we need to promote democracy. We are really ethical but . . . we just have to send an unending flood of arms into the world. Really we have to live with humanitarian disasters, because . . . because what? I do hear about the bodies piling up.
I don’t thing that “ethical and humanitarian” really fits in with the Year of the Lord’s favor. Let’s scrap it.
But let’s consider today’s Gospel and someone who was very humanitarian and ethical and also something more. Let’s read again what Jesus read in the synagogue in Nazareth. His passage was from the Prophet Isaiah who wrote some of the most beautiful passages in the Bible. And this passage is one of them. (Isaiah 61:1-2, quoted in Luke 4:18-19)
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.
After he’s finished reading Jesus says: Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing. (Luke 4:21)
We can really feel the great drama that Luke puts into this passage and its power for Christians. But, as you know, just a bit further along in the chapter, Jesus’s listeners in Nazareth are eventually scandalized and angered and feeling insulted and they try to throw Jesus off a cliff! (Luke 4:22-30). So, this is the Year of the Lord’s favor?!
We can say that these people of Nazareth are misled and ignorant. But, maybe we should ask whether we are with them. Maybe we should ask whether we believe Jesus. Maybe we should ask if we are simply humanitarian and ethical in the highest degree.
Luke’s Gospel is a fabulous way to look at these questions. I think this is because of the way in which Luke arranged it. At the beginning, Luke gives us the facts about the Incarnation – the great stories of the Annunciation and the Nativity. At the end, he gives us the facts of the Passion, the Crucifixion and death of Jesus, and the Resurrection. The beginning and end of Luke’s Gospel are joined by the story of a long journey to Jerusalem and the Passion. On the journey, Jesus heals people and he really talks a lot. He heals lepers and the blind man at Jericho, for example, just like in the quote from Isaiah at Nazareth. He talks about neighborly behavior as in the parable of the Good Samaritan. He talks about forgiveness and attitude as in the parable of The Prodigal Son. He talks about generosity as in the Story of the Poor Man Lazarus. He talks about the humility of sin and repentance as in the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector.
This long journey to Jerusalem is kind of the ethical and humanitarian part of Jesus’ time with us.
But it is my guess that the ancient church noticed how Luke has a beginning and an end that are linked by the journey to Jerusalem. I think the early church prayed and meditated about this and believed that the beginning and end stories in Luke – that is, the facts – were the most important parts of our Christian faith. This is why the Nicene Creed and the Apostles’ Creed do not mention anything that is said or occurs on, for example, the journey to Jerusalem. Perhaps they wanted us not to fall into a faith of humanitarianism and ethics. In his way, Saint Paul lays it out the importance of the facts so practically. He tells us that if Jesus did not die and rise, then we are wasting our time. (1Corinthians 15:14)
So, the the Passion and Incarnation are the signature Christian events. Not the Good Samaritan. Not the Prodigal Son. And so forth. Not the behavior that these parables imply.
But, and this is a big but, the fact of events of such condescension, such tenderness, such fatherliness, such motherliness, such child-like love, such indescribable events, are what make us want to be the Good Samaritan or want to be the father of the prodigal, want to forgive the same guy seven times in one day. Luke 17:4. Christians are touched, not by ideas or philosophies, not by humanitarianism and ethics, but by God’s own personality and loveliness.
So, how do the Passion and Incarnation make us behave. Well, first of all, it is tempting to have high ideals which feel good, and then say, “Well, this is an exception. I can be rude to this unenlightened person. I can say bad things about him.” I think this is a real temptation in these times. But I don’t think we should do it. For one thing, Jesus said, do not judge lest you be judged. (Matthew 7:1) The result of judging is that the guy I judge is justified in judging me by the same standards, by “whataboutism” and other phony arguments.. This goes nowhere.
Then, I think there’s the kind of behavior in which we drive ourselves breathless. This is the behavior of believing that I am upholding Christianity by doing things and that, if I don’t do them, Christianity will fail. I don’t think this “Christian soldier” outlook really works. We begin to feel we are inadequate. We feel guilty. We hurt ourselves. Also, I think we have to realize that, in this kind of overachieving, we are approaching the point of view that, if I work harder, Jesus would not be crucified. But he was crucified. That’s a fact. As he told the Apostles more than once, that was the plot. Eventually, they understood the uniqueness of their lives at Pentecost.
So, it’s always a good idea, I think, to fall back and renew. A while ago, I said we have to go down to the Jordan pretty often to see John the Baptist. We need, I guess, the kind of repentance that is a reset.
So, how do we reset? Well, we don’t do anything! And here are a couple of ways of “not doing.” I am sure there are others. First, I remember Bishop Austin’s Christmas message to us. He recommended the prayer of not doing anything and not saying anything, the prayer of presence — just feeling the air or temperature on your skin, listening to the sounds around you or the freeway in the distance. I am a big fan of this Christmas letter.
Second, I also admire Pope Francis tremendously. He has declared 2025 to be a Jubilee Year. This is the year prescribed in the Book of Leviticus for major resets. (Leviticus 25:8-17) Debts are to be forgiven. Slaves are to be freed. Land is to rest fallow. Land is returned to the original owners. In a way, society stops and there is “no doing.” But how can we stop? Pope Francis has a very attractive way! He says we should go on a pilgrimage which is a kind of ultimate letting go. Well, personally, I am not going to Rome to walk through the Holy Door at Saint Peter’s, or go to Santiago de Compostella, or Canterbury. But we have the power to go on pilgrimage in our own lives. Pilgrimage is how we walk out of society for a time and take to the roads. We can walk to the library intentionally and say a prayer on setting out, on arriving, and on reaching home again. We can walk a trail in the hills. The Nimitz trail is a nice one; it’s paved and has quarter mile markers. We can get in the car with friends and drive somewhere nice: maybe the UC Botanical Garden — and then lunch! And as to lunch, Jesus was always having dinner at somebody’s house. Lunch is part of the pilgrimage. And as we journey, we can think about what makes us Christians. We can think about why the Psalm for today says The heavens declare the glory of God. They have no words or language and there voices are not heard. No saying or doing. Just being. I’ll see you on the road this year!
