​He forgives them and frees them, welcomes them and changes them. He has been anointed to bring freedom from sin and freedom from sinful structures. He has been anointed to create a new community that breaks down the barriers between insider and outsider, Jew and Gentile, rich and poor. In him, all flesh shall see God’s salvation. – Judith Jones

Luke 4:14-30 (The Voice)
Jesus returned to Galilee in the power of the Holy Spirit, and soon people across the region had heard news of Him.  He would regularly go into their synagogues and teach. His teaching earned Him the respect and admiration of everyone who heard Him.
 
He eventually came to His hometown, Nazareth, and did there what He had done elsewhere in Galilee—entered the synagogue and stood up to read from the Hebrew Scriptures.
 
The synagogue attendant gave Him the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, and Jesus unrolled it to the place where Isaiah had written these words:
 
The Spirit of the Lord the Eternal One is on Me.
Why? Because the Eternal designated Me
    to be His representative to the poor, to preach good news to them.
He sent Me to tell those who are held captive that they can now be set free,
    and to tell the blind that they can now see.
He sent Me to liberate those held down by oppression.
In short, the Spirit is upon Me to proclaim that now is the time;
    this is the jubilee season of the Eternal One’s grace.
 
Jesus rolled up the scroll and returned it to the synagogue attendant. Then He sat down, as a teacher would do, and all in the synagogue focused their attention on Jesus, waiting for Him to speak. 
​
He told them that these words from the Hebrew Scriptures were being fulfilled then and there, in their hearing.
 
They were all saying: “Wait. This only the son of Joseph, right?”
 
He said to them: “You’re about to quote the old proverb to Me, “Doctor, heal yourself!” Then you’re going to ask Me to prove Myself to you by doing the same miracles I did in Capernaum.  But face the truth: hometowns always reject their homegrown prophets.
 
Think back to the prophet Elijah. There were many needy Jewish widows in his homeland, Israel, when a terrible famine persisted there for three and a half years. Yet the only widow God sent Elijah to help was an outsider from Zarephath in Sidon.
 
It was the same with the prophet Elisha. There were many Jewish lepers in his homeland, but the only one he healed—Naaman--was an outsider from Syria.
 
The people in the synagogue became furious when He said these things.  They seized Jesus, took Him to the edge of town, and pushed Him right to the edge of the cliff on which the city was built. They would have pushed Him off and killed Him, but He passed through the crowd and went on His way.”

On Monday I talked about familiarity, especially with your family, and how being so familiar with someone or something might prevent us from seeing the newness that is offered to us with each and every interaction.  James may have been holding onto the familiarity of his brother Jesus, which prevented him from seeing in fullness, Jesus as the Risen Christ.  It's like having your hands full to the point that you can't accept anything new, so we have to put something down.

This morning we think about the flip side of familiarity - familiarity and comfort.  In so many of these resurrection appearances Jesus eats with his disciples.  On the road to Emmaus he breaks bread with them when they arrive; on the beach Jesus eats a meal with the disciples.  Here in Luke the disciples are still afraid and Jesus uses food as a way to comfort them.  He eats fish with them, something we are sure they would have done together, as fisherman and fishers-of-men, many times.

If the church has done one thing right over the years, we can at least say we haven't failed at the food = comfort part.  "Sharing food is so simple, and yet so important."

After funerals, there is food; after weddings there is always cake; when we celebrate a milestone in the church, there is food; when we celebrate a new beginning with a baby, we bring food to their home.  When we know that not all of our neighbors are able to do the same, we provide food; when strangers are caught in systems that prevent them from the fullness of life, we provide food.  Whether its food pantry, or a soup kitchen, a potluck at church, bringing food to someone in their home, or communion on Sunday, "in breaking bread together, we find reassurance, security, comfort."

Familiarity and  comfort are found in the risen Christ.  Jesus is still the "same ol' " Jesus, "the guy they loved, their friend and master.  He was still the man who had walked with them by the sea and ate fish, cooked over a fire, day in and day out."  Jesus may not be able to physically offer us a piece of fish, but Jesus draws us into that familiarity.  As we wrestle with the risen Christ, and what the means, the fear, the questions, the doubts, Jesus draws us "into the miracle and reality of his resurrection."

Won't you come break bread with us this Sunday morning, and join us in feeling the reality and miracle of the resurrected Christ?

Blessings... Laura

Frail and stooped with the ravages of illness, out of the hospital… her only yearning: to go to church. Out of the hospital  into the sanctuary… Wearing joy upon her wrinkled face, she is full of light. Her hand shaking, she places her offering on the plate. O God, a widow’s mite! This day in this time  lovingly, cheerfully offered to her Lord… O God, a widow’s mite! a sign of hope among us!
                                                         - Ann Weems

READING
Looking up, Jesus saw rich people throwing their gifts into the collection box for the temple treasury. He also saw a poor widow throw in two small copper coins worth a penny. He said, “I assure you that this poor widow has put in more than them all. All of them are giving out of their spare change. But she from her hopeless poverty has given everything she had to live on.”
                                                        - Luke 21.1-4 (CEB)

REFLECTION
NOTE: Pastoral needs have called me away from my reflection, whisking away in one fell swoop the time I need to prepare an adequate preparation for worship. I would say, “I’m sorry,” but I simply can’t apologize for providing pastoral care when and where it is needed. That, after all, is why we are here. 

This much I can say about Sunday's topic: There has to be a reason the widow in this story offered her all to God – a whopping two mites! – and only by peering into her heart and finding there this reason would Jesus be moved to affirm her action above all others in the temple that day. While her motives are not transparent to us, we can imagine the interior of a heart so willing to share. Ann Weems certainly has her idea, and it is expressed in the poem cited above. As you meditate on this passage and poem, seek to discern the widow’s reason for giving… and join us on Sunday as we consecrate our stewardship pledges to God.

If you put your heart against the earth with me, in serving every creature, our Beloved will enter you from our sacred realm and we will be, we will be so happy.
                      - Rumi

READING:
Jesus went to Nazareth, where he had been raised. On the Sabbath he went to the synagogue as he normally did and stood up to read. The synagogue assistant gave him the scroll from the prophet Isaiah. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me. He has sent me to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to liberate the oppressed, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. He rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the synagogue assistant, and sat down. Every eye in the synagogue was fixed on him. He began to explain to them, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled just as you heard it.”
                                        - Luke 4.16-21 (CEB)

REFLECTION:
Frederick Buechner likes to talk about beyond words; words that open out to things residing beyond their proper meaning and, more importantly, words that suggest images of things that could never be expressed in words at all, partial and limited as they are. They are mysterious words, because they point to mystery; they are strong words, because they have the courage to take on the nigh impossible, they are profound words, because they offer a glimpse of sheer profundity, and they are open words, because they are the gateway by which such profundity becomes present in our world. As stand-alone words they are partial and quite limited. As symbols of holy things, however, they are powerful beyond words (sorry; just couldn’t avoid the pun!).

Take the word favor, as in the year of the Lord’s favor. We understand it most of the time as a stand-alone word, a word we could define in our sleep. Shoot, ever’body knows what it means to receive favor: being looked on kindly, being given the choice piece of meat on the platter, being pampered and spoiled with all kind of good things. And more times than not, this is how we choose to understand God’s favor, as a stand-alone word that means just what we want it to. Many prodigious prosperity preachers (in this instance prodigious is synonymous with abnormal rather than amazing, at least in my humble opinion) take advantage of this habit by expounding on the material “blessings” God has in store for the favored. Hey, you too can be favored; send in a donation of any size and I will send you my latest book that explains how to become favored in God’s eyes!

In the passage from Luke 4 cited above, Jesus is not playing the prosperity preacher. He is using favor as a beyond word, a word that introduces us to a unique favor available only in God. Is it material? Is it money, success, or accomplishment? Don’t bet on it. These things don’t count for much in God’s estimation. You can, however, bet on it being beneficial, a source of healing, wholeness, and joy. Good news is always welcome and beneficial; but it is rarely accompanied by a cash deposit. The very thought of release is exciting to a prisoner; but will it remain so if the prisoner serves the remainder of the sentence? And sight is valuable beyond description to a blind person; but the sight Jesus mentions won’t necessarily provide a sharp image of the KC Royals playing in the ALCS.

Favor, in this instance, is totally new, beyond our day-to-day understanding (especially when that understanding is shallow and selfish!)… and life transforming. Favor, as Jesus uses it, is a thin veil through which we can see God drawing near. Favor, as Jesus presents it, is the gift of God’s presence which, when all is said and done, is all we need, or could ever hope for. Favor, as Jesus incarnates it, is found in God’s service, being the good news, opening cell doors, and touching lives with light. On Sunday we will examine this notion – the year of God’s favor – and explore any elements of the beyond it may offer as gifts. 

It is impossible for others to help you come to terms with the past, if for you the past is a pile of wounded memories and angry humiliations, and the future is just a nursery of revenge.
            - Eric Lomax 


READINGS:
“God’s kingdom is like a treasure hidden in a field for years and then accidentally found by a trespasser. The finder is ecstatic—what a find!—and proceeds to sell everything he owns to raise money and buy that field.
                        - Matthew 13.44 (The Message)

“Or, God’s kingdom is like a jewel merchant on the hunt for excellent pearls. Finding one that is flawless, he immediately sells everything and buys it.
                         - Matthew 13.45 f. (The Message)

If you grasp and cling to life on your terms, you’ll lose it, but if you let that life go, you’ll get life on God’s terms.
                         - Luke 17.33 (The Message)   



REFLECTION:
The more I have reflected on The Railway Man by Eric Lomax, or reviewed in my mind’s eye scenes from the movie of the same name (with Colin Firth and Nicole Kidman), I come back to the same question; the one question that refuses an easy response; how in God’s name is reconciliation ever possible? When one has been wronged in egregious ways (say, for example, tortured repeatedly as a prisoner of war); when one’s humanity has been mocked, assailed, and ultimately stripped away by the cruel acts of another (say, for example, being forced to watch and listen to the preparation for the next session of torture), how is it ever possible to forgive? How is it ever possible to reconcile with that devil in human guise?  How is it ever possible to look up to the heavens, like Jesus on the cross, and ask God to forgive his enemies?

So it was for Eric Lomax (The Railway Man is autobiographical) for years after he managed to survive his tortures and make his way home from the Second World War. I say make his way home; he made it to England, but you couldn’t confirm the home thing by him. He was tormented; his torture extended by his continued anguish, so wracked was he by fear, anger, bitterness, and a void where any sense of a just world had once resided. He was unable to make his way back into normal life, or find a place for himself in his own home; and he was unable to come to terms with his own history.

Then comes the news that the man he remembers as responsible for his torture not only survived the war, but also was working as a tour guide at the very POW camp in which he had tortured Eric and others.

Something had to give. Confrontation was inevitable. But what would it – what should it - accomplish? Revenge? Reconciliation? He knew that reconciliation would require something more powerful than his seemingly limitless hatred; he knew that it would take a treasure, a pearl of great value, to overcome his pain. Identifying this treasure is our task for Sunday. We get enigmatic hints about this treasure from one and another, but nothing that clarifies or soothes; nothing painless, no turn-key solution, nothing truly plug-and-play. Madeleine L’Engle, for example, insists that reconciliation requires healing grief… that forgiving someone is painful. It involves what she calls fellow-feeling; which I take to mean empathizing with the one we seek to forgive, being willing to see things from his or her point of view. Again, St. Francis observed that none of us can ever be truly compassionate until we recognize that we are capable of any act; even despicable acts like the torture to which Eric was subjected.

The treasure we seek will not be easily or painlessly identified. But we will search, for we, too, may be in need of reconciliation, and to find the treasure that can unlock forgiveness and reconciliation… now that would be priceless.

We hope to see you on Sunday!