Luke 4:14-30 · Jesus Rejected at Nazareth
Epiphany:The Joy of Fulfillment
Luke 4:14-30
Sermon
by J. Ellsworth Kalas
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I've read some books where it seemed the author had no purpose in writing. When that's the case, I'm glad if I can discover it early, so I don't invest too much time in a meaningless search. In some instances, however, I've been slow to recognize the problem, perhaps because I've been looking so earnestly for the author's point that I didn't realize he was without one.  No such charge can be made against Luke, the Greek physician who gave us the Gospel which bears his name. He knew why he was writing, and he was obviously excited about his assignment. 

In a sense, you and I can feel that we are eavesdropping when we read this Gospel. Luke addresses himself, in the opening paragraph, to someone named Theophilus. We don't know who this was. Some say he was a friendly Roman official who had only a disorganized knowledge of the faith, to whom Luke wanted to give more basic instruction. Others say that this is only a general term to refer to all who "love God" or "are loved by God" -- the two ways the name "Theophilus" is translated. However that may be, we are sure that Luke's Gospel speaks to us and that the purposes which he meant for the unknown Theophilus are being fulfilled in us as well. 

Luke explains that others have "done their best" to write reports of the things they knew, from eyewitnesses, about the life of Jesus. We don't know how many such books or tracts were available in the first century. With the kind of impact the gospel was making on so many lives, it was natural that anyone who knew anything about Jesus either first- or secondhand -- would want to tell others their version of the story. The best and most significant of these accounts survived, perhaps simply because God meant it to be so. But from the human side we can see a reason, too: no doubt the most beloved books were copied and recopied for sharing. We know as much by the fragments which remain to this day in such relative abundance. 

But Luke has his own reason for telling the story. It is partly, as he says, because he had "carefully studied all these matters from their beginning," and now he felt qualified to "write an orderly account" (Luke 1:3). Luke may have felt uniquely qualified, as a Gentile and a physician, to offer insights which others might overlook. Certainly it's true that his Gospel has some special factors.  More than anything, though, Luke wanted his readers to "know the truth" about the whole story. In the language of the King James Version, he wanted Theophilus to "know the certainty of those things wherein thou hast been instructed." 

That first generation of Christians felt a magnificent certainty about the way of life they had chosen. If they hadn't, they wouldn't have put their lives on the line so freely for their beliefs. It is sometimes pointed out that, though the four Gospels and the several epistles are so different in style, and though they clearly come from a wide variety of authors, they have one characteristic in common: the quality of certainty. There is no querulous tone, no hesitancy, not even a reasonable caution -- just this grand, "I know whom I have believed...." They may differ regarding the time and order of events. That's typical of eyewitnesses even in something as simple as a traffic accident. But they are unanimous in their certainties about the nature, person, and power of Jesus the Christ. 

Their profound assurance is all the more remarkable when we consider the circumstances under which they believed. They took their stands with Jesus at the peril of their lives. It was not like joining a luncheon club! Some of them had seen Jesus discredited in the series of trials, and reduced to an apparently helpless, dying form, hanging from a cross. You and I sometimes envy the generation that saw Jesus in the flesh. Perhaps their faith was more tested than ours, for they saw Jesus with all the marks of humanness that we usually blot out.  Yet, with it all, they believed with such certainty that they could turn the world upside down. What was their secret? 

Part of the secret is made clear in the latter portion of our lesson for the day. As Jesus explained scripture for the first time to the people in his hometown of Nazareth, he spoke from one of the most cherished portions of the prophet Isaiah: 

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. -- vv. 18, 19 

Then, sitting down in the manner of a rabbinical leader, he declared, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing" (v. 21). 

At first the people responded warmly to "the gracious words." But they soon began to be troubled by the fact that he was one of them. They knew Joseph and Mary, had seen the boy grow up, and stopped often to visit with him in the carpenter shop. And when Jesus pressed the issue with them, nothing that a prophet is not honored by his own people, their questions grew into resentment and, at last, into open violence. 

But Jesus' ministry went on, and grew, and continued to grow after his death and resurrection, even to the present time. As we view what is happening around the world, this twenty-first century might well prove to be the greatest century yet for the Christian faith. But how has it happened? How has the cross of Christ, as the poet put it, continued too "tower o'er the wrecks of time"? 

It is because Christ is surely the fulfillment. The first Christians and the Gospel writers saw him especially as the fulfillment of prophecy. They had studied the prophets, heard the scriptures expounded by their rabbis, and waited for One who would fulfill these grand expectations. Now they could spread out the prophecies of the scriptures alongside their experiences with Jesus and conclude that they matched. Jesus was the fulfillment.  But he was far more than the fulfillment of prophecy. If that were all we could say about our Lord, he might become to us no more than a kind of mystical novelty, something to be speculated on in a cheap newspaper or an offbeat book. The glory of Christ is this -- he is the fulfillment of our human longing and need. He fits the empty space in our human galaxy. His voice and his power turn our discordant sounds into music. He is the fulfillment of life. 

I think that's what a scholar meant, in the mid-twentieth century, when he heard that the Christian faith does not stand or fall with the trustworthiness of the Gospels. The gospel, he said, was preached to the world before a single Gospel was written -- for nearly a full generation -- and it would continue to be preached if all the written Gospels were discredited or destroyed. The Christian faith has been conveyed to us in the scriptures, and we cherish and honor the Book. We are grateful that we have it as a written record of the faith we firmly believe. But great as the scriptures are, they would not convince us if it were not for the fulfillment we have seen during these passing centuries, in literally millions of human lives. And more than that -- far more! -- if it were not for the fulfillment you and I have experienced in our own lives. The people of Samaria came to look Jesus over after hearing wonderful reports from the woman who had met him at the well. But afterward they said, "It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world" (John 4:42). By God's grace, we ought to be able to speak in the same way. 

Jesus Christ is the fulfillment of our human longing and our human need; we rejoice this Epiphany season in that grand fact. It is as if his role were written not only into the scriptures, but even into our very natures. Saint Augustine said that we human beings have a God-shaped void which only God himself can fulfill. Jesus Christ came to our planet as the visible expression of God. He "fits" the void which is inherent in us human creatures. 

I continue to marvel that this need is basically the same regardess of all outward differences in us, and that the same Jesus Christ fulfills the need. About forty years ago I visited, outside Addis Araba, with a missionary nurse who was ministering to a hidden Ethiopian tribe which had no written language (thus not one literate person) and where primitive rites still included drinking fresh animal blood. As she spoke of the people with whom she worked, I thought of the upwardly-mobile young executives in the congregation to which I would return, and asked myself what her people and mine had in common. I realized that they both longed to know God, and their longing could be fulfilled in Jesus Christ. The tribesman might muffle his longing cry in worship of trees or stars, and the suburban family in pursuit of material satisfaction, but the longing refuses, ultimately, to be extinguished. 

And the marvel is this: Jesus somehow fits the void in all the farflung instances of human longing. When medieval European artists painted the Holy Family, they usually painted them with typical German, Italian, or Flemish features. It was not imagination or prejudice which made them do so, but the instinctive feeling that Jesus belonged to them; he was one of their people. In our time, Christian artists in Africa and Asia paint the Holy Family with features and coloring appropriate to their world. Again, it is because they feel that Jesus belongs to them. 

The mountain church, where a duet twangs out country-western music on a guitar, may seem to have little in common with a Bach rendition from a four-manual organ; but each is seeking to show its adoration of Jesus in its own best way. Here is the common bond between a storefront church in the ghetto and the massive Gothic structure some miles away: they both bear the name of Jesus Christ; and they each seek, in their own way and setting, to fulfill the human longing.  What about you and me? What is the longing in our lives which Christ has filled? "Today," Jesus said, "this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." For you, for me?  To what degree are we in the business of fulfilling the scripture in the lives of others? Those of us who have seen the glory of Jesus Christ want to extend the benefit to others. When we read that he came to preach good news to the poor and recovery of sight to the blind, and to proclaim release to the captives, something in us wants to make this happen. 

It is easy in these post-Christmas days to lose the spirit of Christmas. The Christmas decorations have now been packed away for another year (well, for most of us!), Christmas mail has been answered, and all that seems left of Christmas is reckoning with the charge account balances we've accumulated. It's hard to concentrate on the joy of giving, which seemed so important a few weeks ago. Even though this is the season in the church when we recall the visit of the Wise Men and their giving to the Christ Child, our own disposition is more in the mood of "Let's go on with normal life." 

If we're to get on with normal life, let us not do so by leaving Christmas behind. Let us remind ourselves that our Lord came, not to institute a season of cards, celebrations, and Christmas trees, but to bring good news to the poor and release to the captives. You and I can be agents of the good news. Some of it we do through our part in the work of the church, which, even at its weakest, is still in the forefront of relieving human pain. And some of it we can do personally, one to one, as we extend kindness, love, and deeds of thoughtfulness to people in need. Those people in need may be closer than we sometimes think, because only a few of life's needs are measured in dollars and cents. 

Luke knew why he was writing his book. He had been a secondhand witness to the blessed fact of Jesus Christ. Now he wanted others to know the fulfillment which had come to the world, in wondrous certainty, through him. Let us, you and me, go out into this week with the same gladness and the same grand certainty.

CSS Publishing Company, Sermons on the Gospel Readings, Cycle C, by J. Ellsworth Kalas