It’s kind of fun to think about the audacity of Jesus, coming into his hometown where he had been raised, and bringing them the Word. He, like everyone else, was going to synagogue on the Sabbath, and had been asked to read. Can you imagine the Creator of the world having a role in a worship service? It’s almost funny that God humbly takes this kind of assisting role in the part he plays in this service, accepting a “speaking part,” reading scripture. It’s unclear whether he was asked to give any kind of “sermon,” but he does anyway, in addition to his reading the Scripture, identifying himself as the “fulfillment” of these words. And he was. 

The words from Isaiah Jesus reads, describing God, identify the testimony of the gospel itself, rooted deliberately in justice. Jesus, models what being anointed for God’s purposes should look like for us baptized believers. He, the Messiah, was sent to be good news to the poor, justice for the weak. This Messiah comforts those on the margins of society, releases the captives, restores sight to the “blind” (one could read, literally restoring in healing, and figuratively in revealing who God is to those reluctant to hear it), and frees the oppressed. Jesus makes clear exactly who God is, and what God has come, incarnate, to do. 

It’s interesting too that he feels that that’s all he needs to say– like this Scripture passage is the gospel in itself. That’s how we, the redeemed, must proclaim the story and nature of the God of Israel– one who liberated the Israelites from Egypt that they may live forever in covenant, who came incarnate to die bearing the weight of our sin, that all may have access to life, and that the poor, the lowly, the sinner, those powerful society rejected, might all be free. 

All is well and good with the Nazarenes, and they’re proud of him, but then he says something they don’t like. You may remember as the rest of the chapter unfolds, he talks about Elijah, making them aware of the other widows and people in need of healing in the area that Elijah didn’t attend. He acknowledged a tangible area of need before them as a way to live in the world the way this Just God of the captives and sinners would, healing and attending the needs of the poor. But this “dig” was a little too personal, and the crowd, infuriated at the idea of this random son of their community making Elijah look bad, tried to throw Jesus off a cliff. 

The Son of Man himself was not accepted in his hometown. Can we not conclude too that the gospel itself, and the God of Justice it describes, is often difficult for human communities to fully accept? It’s difficult to admit that we forever have things to learn about God, and too easy to think we’re done. It’s difficult to acknowledge the cry of the needy as an ever-present yet often societally-overturning need, so it’s easy to shift blame and accountability. It’s easy to become defensive and uncomfortable when the gospel requires something of us, and the goodness of our God challenges us where we are.

Nonetheless, this is the God Jesus describes, Isaiah describes, and we aim to describe in our places of worship, and as witnesses to all the world. This God has prioritized answering the call of the needy, the call for justice, which gives deserved mercy to those powerful society rejected who call on the name of the Lord. This Holy Week, as we remember what Christ did for us, taking up our crosses behind Jesus, it’s okay for our crosses to feel heavy. It’s a lofty task God calls us to, living Christian community in light of Christ’s salvation, which freed all people. It’s often difficult because it means acknowledging God’s love for people other than ourselves, people we may have even failed to love. But it’s a cross nonetheless, not a flashy impressive statement of power, but a forever calling to serve and wash feet for the sake of restorative justice. May we carry our own crosses with Jesus, searching ourselves and continually learning to love God’s justice, until all have a place at God’s table. May we, with Jesus, do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.

Mackenzie Smith