Luke 4:16-19
I grew up in Nazareth, but Jesus was a dozen years older than me. He was an adult, and I wasn’t even a teen when he left town. Of course, we lived in a small town, so everyone knew everyone else, regardless of their ages. So, yes, I knew Jesus.
You didn’t just “know” Jesus. He was friends with everyone, not just acquaintances, but friends. Even the little toddlers, young ones just learning to talk. He’d listen to them patiently. Somehow he always seemed to understand what they were saying, even my little brother. Jesus could understand him even when I couldn’t. And he treated us girls the same as the boys. He seemed to think that we were all special, each one of us.
Animals were also attracted to him. The town stray dogs used to follow him, and sometimes he would throw them scraps. They never fought each other when he was around, even over food. Wild birds would fly down and sit on his shoulder, even hawks. Just Jesus, nobody else attracted them. He talked to them like they understood him.
So when he left one day, we all missed him. Rumor had it that he went to the Jordan River and was baptized there by a strange man named John. They said that after he came up out of the river, a mysterious voice spoke from the clouds. And a dove came down and sat on his shoulder. Then he disappeared for a while, off into the wilderness.
I wondered what that meant. Of course, girls weren’t supposed to think about such things, but Mother and I would sometimes puzzle about it when we were alone. And we listened when Father talked about Jesus. He said that it could be a sign, a sign from Jehovah. If people had heard the voice right, it said, “You are my Son, the Beloved. With you I am well pleased.”
There was a story I heard once about Jesus when he was just 12, the first year he had gone with his parents to Jerusalem for the Festival of the Passover. It seems that Jesus had not traveled with his family when they left. After three days they finally found him in the Temple, discussing theology with the scribes.
When his mother asked him what he was doing, he told her, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?”
Nobody understood what that meant. Was there a connection between that and the voice? Whose voice would that have been?
When he left, Jesus didn’t tell anyone where he was going. Then he didn’t come home right away. We’d hear about him being in different places in Galilee, teaching in the synagogues. He had often read in our synagogue, but not preaching or teaching, just reading the scripture the rabbi had selected. He read well, smoothly, carefully, with meaning. He read like he understood what it meant.
Now girls weren’t allowed in the main part of the synagogue. We sat with our mothers in the balcony. Nobody taught us to read. But my brother, after his bar mitzvah, he sat with our father down below. And sometimes they called on him to read. He read well, because he practiced with our father, who explained it all to him. I listened, so I learned, too.
Anyway, finally Jesus came home. We were all delighted. He told us about the places he had been, the people he had met, the friends he had made. The older people didn’t have much time to listen to him, but we children, we sat around him like sheep around the well. What he told us about other places fascinated us.
Then, on the Sabbath, like always, he went to the synagogue. That was not unusual because he had always gone along with everyone else. The men went into the main part down below, and we women and girls went upstairs, where we would not disturb the service.
Looking through the grill, I watched the rabbi hand Jesus the scroll of Isaiah. Jesus unrolled it most of the way through, and then began to read. Well, he didn’t really read it because after he found the place, he never looked down at it. He knew the words. His deep, melodious voice filled the space inside the synagogue.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, anointing me to bring good news to the poor, 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.”
Maybe it was just coincidence, but Nathaniel had been studying that piece of Isaiah just this last week. And I knew that what Jesus read was not the end. It went on. But Jesus had stopped just short of “reading” the next words, “and the day of vengeance of our God.” Why had he stopped where he did? Vengeance against our enemies, that would make us happy. There was more good news after that, about comforting the mourners, about the oil of gladness, the mantle of praise, righteousness, building up ancient ruins, repairing ruined cities. All of it good news. Why did he leave out the vengeance part? Did he not believe in revenge?
I looked up at Mother, and she gave me that “We’ll talk about it later” look. Father was one of those men who let the women take part in discussions like this, at least, at home. We turned back to see Jesus sit down. He was going to speak.
The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. He was one of us. What would he say? We knew he was a deep thinker. We knew he spoke his mind. We knew he had taught in other synagogues while he was gone. What had he said in those places? Would he say the same things here?
There was kind of an aura around him. I thought I noticed something different from back when we children were sitting around him. Not physically different; he was still the same height, the same weight, the same color hair, the same smile. But still, something had changed. Maybe it was a new confidence. Maybe it was like in the old stories that Nathaniel learned. They talked about the old prophets who were filled with the Spirit of God. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but this same Jesus was somehow different. And I really felt it now, as Jesus prepared to speak.
“Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” He talked for a few minutes about how that anointing would change things. Good news to the poor — they never had any good news. The wealthy were rich because God had blessed them. Beggars, shepherds, widows, orphans, slaves, servants; all of them and more, they were poor because God had cursed them. God had turned away from them. God had no good news for them. But Jesus said that was part of his mission.
Release to the captives — those in prison, those who could not pay their debts, those who had resisted the Romans or the wealthy, those who had robbed or stolen because they had nothing to lose. Release, freedom. Good news.
Recovery of sight to the blind — the blind could not work, could not contribute to their families, to their communities. Beggars, that’s all they were. Leeches, taking from others because they had nothing to give. But if they could see again, if they could recover their sight, they could work again. They could be a member of their families, of their communities. They could be proud again.
Freeing the oppressed — we knew something about oppression. We knew that the Romans treated us like animals, that what they often did to us was wrong. Of course, I didn’t understand the other kinds of oppression, that girls were not allowed an education, that they were only good for cooking, cleaning, and having babies. Or slaves or the ones we called servants, who really were slaves. Or those who were excluded from the Temple because they were somehow disabled. Or I could go on and on, but that would take me away from my story.
The year of the Lord’s favor. How do I explain what that meant to a 12-year-old girl? My father treated me well, but some of the fathers were not so kind to their daughters. Girls were considered a burden, a liability. Some of them didn’t felt their father’s favor, their father’s kindness, that their fathers cared for them.
And Jehovah? Jehovah was that kind of father to everyone, male and female, slave and free. Jehovah made you count your steps on the Sabbath, made sure you ate the right foods, offered the right unblemished sacrifice, and on and on and on. Hundreds of rules to follow, so that you knew you would never get them right.
The year of the Lord’s favor? It would never happen. Jehovah was never satisfied with what we did.
But all that about good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight, freeing the oppressed. Would Jehovah really do that? That would surely be a sign of the Lord’s favor.
And Jesus said, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
For consideration:
General Questions
1) How does this story follow its Scripture?
2) How does this story expand its Scripture for you?
3) What is the message of this story?
4) How does the message apply to us today?
Specific Questions
5) The gospels don’t say anything about animals being attracted to Jesus. Does that add to our understanding of Jesus?
6) What is the connection between what Jesus said at the age of twelve about being in his Father’s house and the voice from the clouds at Jesus’ baptism?
7) Why did Jesus leave out “the day of vengeance of our God”?
8) Why did the girl believe that “the year of the Lord’s favor” would never happen?
