Looking at this morning's readings I at least am faced with the problem of how they might connect up together. I persist in addressing myself to them in this way, despite being reliably informed that they are not necessarily selected to connect up - they are just examples of continuous readings of scriptural texts. So, I admit defeat as it were so far as the passage from 1 Corinthians goes - it needs a sermon all to itself. So we put that on one side this morning and consider the rest.
First of all, there's that chunk from the book of Nehemiah - the book which is part two of a joint effort as it were, the books of Ezra-Nehemiah. And chapter 8 is really all about Ezra, so should probably have been attached to the book of that name. Nehemiah is mentioned only once (in chapter 8.9) and you would expect him to be more significant in a book with his name at the head. Anyway, take it as it stands, and what we have is Persian imperial power sending displaced aliens - inherited from the Babylonian empire - back home. Ezra goes back somewhere around 400 BC (we cannot make more than a guess at the date) - goes back with other Jewish exiles to Jerusalem, with a good treasury to see that city and some sort of temple are rebuilt. The temple would be nothing like the one built by Herod later on, nothing so splendid, but a start. Ezra is also concerned in this morning's reading to re-establish what became known in Jewish tradition as one of the three pillars on which the earth stands. These three pillars were Torah - the divine gift of guidance as to how to live in relation to God; the ritual of the Temple; and acts of compassion and mercy. On this occasion, Ezra and the townspeople begin to grasp what living with Torah means - and they are told that this is a matter for joy, that they are to celebrate with a feast, and to remember to 'send portions unto them for whom nothing is prepared' - make sure no one goes hungry, or is excluded from the feast. Hence the joy of the Psalm, and its words about divine judgments being like gold, like honeycomb.
So far, so good, but Ezra-Nehemiah is not the greatest theological writing of the Hebrew Scriptures. For that, we need to turn elsewhere, to the book read by Jesus in the synagogue at Nazareth, to the great collection known as the book of Isaiah. It is in three sections, it seems. The first comes from before the fall of Jerusalem, with the great prophetic promise of a son, 'God with us', Immanuel, said first to the threatened king of the day, but later associated with Jesus himself. There is also that matchless image of paradise on the holy mountain in chapter 11, on which God again promises a feast, when death will be swallowed up in victory. Have another look at chapter 25 as soon as you have time. The second part of the book of Isaiah comes from the time of exile in Babylon, full of the longing for home, for rescue. And Luke introduces the ministry of John the Baptist with words from Isaiah: the voice crying in the wilderness, making ways straight, making a highway. Then in the third section there is the successor of those two earlier poet-prophets, the poet of the return from exile, Ezra's world we might say. And it is words from this third Isaiah-poet that we find on the lips of Jesus in our Gospel this morning, Isaiah 61. The whole book of Isaiah, as a matter of fact, was of immense importance to early Christian communities. There are some two hundred and fifty allusions to it across the New Testament, and it may well be, if we follow this clue from Luke, that reading it and taking it to heart was central to how Jesus himself worked out who he was and what he was to do. Hence its importance in early Christianity, following up Jesus' self-perception as it were. Look up the texts of Handel's 'Messiah' sometime and you will see how the tradition of 'reading' Jesus through Isaiah kept going!
So let us think a little more closely about what we have heard in Luke's gospel so far. There is Zechariah, in the middle of his part in the temple liturgy, promised a son to make ready a people prepared for the Lord. Mary is promised a son to be called Son of the Most Highest, given the throne of David. She hopes her son will put down the mighty and take care of the lowly. When Zechariah gets his voice back, he hopes for salvation from enemies and from hatred. And there is more: those angels telling the shepherds about the birth of a child whom they refer to with imperial titles - Saviour and Lord. Simeon back at the temple looks for the consolation of Israel, not the return from exile, but surely now release from military and civil occupation. The problem is that all these hopes and expectations are all very well, but they are also dangerous, for there are kings and governors and religious authorities about who may well not take kindly to any of this. And Simeon also hopes for a 'light to lighten the Gentiles' as well as the glory of Israel. Those words about the Gentiles are very important to keep in mind for the reading in the synagogue in Nazareth. One way or another, indications of likely collisions with someone or other are already in view, and Simeon actually does say so. He says the child will be set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel, will be a sign that will be spoken against and that there will be pain for Mary in all this. As readers and hearers of the gospel we are alert to theses words, - not least since we have heard them over the Christmas season - and we also note that the narrative is short through with references to the divine Spirit, the energy and power of divine life. It is associated with Mary, with Zachariah, with Simeon, with John the Baptist, with Jesus himself at his baptism, in conflict with terrible temptations, and now returned into Galilee, teaching in synagogues.
Synagogues: we have no idea when or where they began as schools, places of prayer, gatherings for a community on the Sabbath. There are some archaeological remains, in Galilee, for instance, and the first literary references seem to be in our gospels. It makes sense to have synagogues around, since it is a long way to Jerusalem for a feast. For many, it took too long there and back to be away from land or trade, and everyone contributed what they could to keep temple worship going on their behalf since they themselves could not always be present there. So the normal pattern seems to have developed of a festive meal as best one could afford at sundown the evening before the Sabbath, and then a gathering the next day - in a community building. We can imagine the size perhaps in relation to the nave of our small church here, some four walls, with benches around, maybe four tiers on all four sides with walkways top and bottom. There would be an earth floor in the centre, covered with carpet. Everyone can see and hear. This is where the boys come to school to learn their Hebrew, and to read and chant scripture; this is where everyone comes to hear and learn to understand scripture, especially Torah, and to learn acts of mercy and compassion, how to put it all into practice.
We do not know what form a service would take in Jesus' day and place. It might well have included the recitation of the Shema' (Deut.6): 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord. And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, with all thy soul, and with all thy might', and from Leviticus 19.18, 'thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself', as in morning and evening prayer in a devout household. There would probably also have been the chanting of the psalms, readings, teaching and a Benediction. Jesus, clearly, somewhere along the line, has learned what to say and what to do, maybe in this very same synagogue school, and we can cast an appreciative eye back at the smart (perhaps a bit too smart!) twelve year old who hung around in the temple causing such an upset to his parents. Here he is as an adult, perhaps having asked beforehand to have a copy of Isaiah put in his hands. He opens it at Isaiah 61, a passage from the prophet-poet of return, of rescue. In doing so, he anticipates his great address to his disciples a bit further on in Luke, the address which begins, 'Blessed are the poor'. What we have from Isaiah 61 is good news to the poor, healing to the broken hearted, deliverance to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, liberty to the bruised, and last, and most importantly, the proclamation of 'the acceptable year of the Lord'/'the favourable year of the Lord', the phrase that reflects the Isaianic vision and hope for everyone, every nation, flowing towards God's holy mountain, paradise regained. Remember Simeon's hoped for 'consolation' of a light to lighten the Gentiles. And the passage Jesus reads begins, 'The Spirit of the Lord is upon me' - he reads with authority, and displays the meaning of the text for his hearers, then and there. Isaiah's and his words are indeed recognized as words of grace to them, reminding them that Torah and scripture and acts of mercy and compassion are two of the three pillars which sustain the world. The stumbling block, however, comes in the tail, in those words about preaching the acceptable year of the Lord, the favourable year, the year of the Lord's favour, the reference to the wonderful expectation of Isaiah and Simeon about the inclusion of the Gentiles.
That lot? They eat differently, they do not sound like us, they wear funny clothes, they do dirty jobs we do not want to do, they take our jobs, they do not live in our village, there is no room for them, they do not believe in 'our' God, - that is, the God we own. We can imagine the panic and anxiety among Jesus' hearers, and if we read on, we discover how nasty it gets, when gracious words meet with a threat to Jesus' own life. Well I can think of lots of 'Gentiles' in my own life, quite apart from the fact that I am myself a 'Gentile' in other people's lives, that is, people I'd rather not have across the threshold of my life if I can help it. I am one of the hearer's in that synagogue thinking 'That lot?' So I wonder if this year we might think individually and as a church how we might edge just a bit further towards the vision of Isaiah and Simeon and Jesus of Nazareth in that synagogue. To steal a slogan from elsewhere, let us believe that 'every little helps' when we are trying to defeat our deadly prejudices, imagine others differently, understand them even a little better, and act on that understanding.
Sermon by: Ann Loades