The first sermon:  every preacher has a story about the first time standing in the pulpit, trying to keep it together.  One minister suggested the pulpit for a first time preacher ought to have a glass of water, a decent reading light to see your notes, and most important, an oxygen mask.  First time sermons can be a bit painful to deliver (and sometimes to hear), but folks know that you need to support the first-timer, smile a bit while wondering if the sermon, a valiant attempt surely, ever will come to an end.  One venerable preacher was told of another church hearing a young seminary student giving a first sermon.  He asked, “So, were there any casualties?”

      The passage from Luke is called often the first “sermon” of Jesus.  Jesus is back in the town that raised him.  Indeed, in the Greek text, Luke describes Nazareth as the place that nourished him.  Here Jesus came into his own, growing up in the midst of the people, and now they are eager to welcome him into this new calling.  As he enters the synagogue, he is welcomed as a teacher respected enough to be invited to read and interpret sacred text in the midst of the assembly. Perhaps one can imagine the assembly filled with persons beaming with pride.  This is a great day, welcoming one of our own!

Jesus reads the text and then gives what is the briefest of sermons. The response moves from silence, to puzzlement, to grumbling, to rage. For readers familiar with the gospels, the way the story ends is well known.  Those who nourished him and raised him up will try to toss him off a cliff.   (Come to think of it, my first sermon didn’t go so bad after all….)

      The crux of this story revolves around the ways one responds to Jesus’ teaching.  Jesus reads the text from Isaiah and claims the prophet’s word has been fulfilled.  The comment is made, “Is this not the son of Joseph?”

      Sometimes, going home is the hardest journey one makes.  Sometimes you feel like persons see you still as that young child, chasing after butterflies in the backyard or buzzing by on a bike on a hot summer day.  People can treat you like you’re forever the kid, the daughter or son of the folks at the end of the street, failing to recognize you or give you credit for being who you are today.  Going home sometimes feels great.  Other times, you wonder why you put yourself through it all, feeling treated as the juvenile version of yourself at best, and at worst, realizing the “you” who you have become might as well be invisible.

      The Harvard chaplain Peter Gomes recounts an experience when serving as a resident scholar at Emmanuel College in Cambridge, England.  He found the faculty reserved at first, however, he began to enjoy collegial friendship, though he notes he was “the only person of color on the premises”.  At the end of the term, he remembers one of the college staff saying, “Well, Gomes, considering your background you’ve done well here.”  Gomes notes, “Never have grace and malice been more subtly mixed and administered as they were then” (A Scandalous Gospel, p. 39).  Years later, Gomes claims empathy with Jesus when the crowd mutters, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” (i.e. the subtext of “who do you think you are?”)

      When Jesus came to speak to the hometown crowd, I would argue that he gave his teaching not seeking to cause controversy.  Admittedly, this can happen. Sometimes people show back up in town with a chip on the shoulder, ready to set those folks straight.  Garrison Keillor recounts in his novel Lake Wobegon Days of a longtime town resident nailing 95 theses to the door of the Lutheran Church.  This list included just about every aggravation he had with his fellow churchgoers and town in general.  He did not get them affixed to the church door that night, as the church was hosting the Luther League’s Halloween pizza party, and he didn’t want to be caught with list and hammer in hand.  Instead, he waited, and sent it in for the local paper to publish.  Thankfully the local editor always found some other story to cover in the newspaper…. (Cf. Keillor, p. 251ff.) 

Three of the four gospels tell variants of this story of Jesus before the Nazareth assembly.  Luke places this story up front in his gospel.  The “first sermon” is part of the introduction to Jesus and his ministry, a foretaste of what will be unfolding in the rest of the story.   Reading Luke, I suggest this passage needs to be bookmarked, to refer back as you read of Jesus’ parables, ministry, miracles, and engagements with disciples and opponents alike. If you want to understand Luke’s gospel, this text is a good touchstone to learn how to “read” Luke and understand the Jesus he proclaims. In preaching Isaiah, Jesus establishes himself in the tradition of what has gone before him especially the prophetic tradition’s affirmation God will not forget the marginalized or those who are otherwise written off.    

To side with the poor, the captive, the blind and the oppressed will not win you the victory parade through the streets of Jerusalem or Rome.  He gets into the gritty part of human existence, dealing with the hard questions of people getting exploited and those enduring hardship.  Most important, he stands upon the traditions of the sacred text, which call the faithful to look out for the most vulnerable. The gospel Jesus proclaims is one of inclusive hope.  His gospel goes against the grain of the worldview of the villagers, the powerful within the religious establishment, and the prevailing ethos of Rome.  His gospel fits within the ancient witness of the prophets before him, and like the prophets, Jesus is learning he is not welcome among his own people.  The violence of the crowd demonstrates the costliness that can come with such effort. 

The controversy revolves around Jesus’ commentary after his first remarks.  Not only does he claim his ministry will be to those otherwise forgotten, he cites scriptural narrative where even the Gentiles will be included.  Even the complete outsider shall be part of “the fulfillment” Jesus claims to have brought about. It becomes an unsettling word to consider. The question of “who’s in” and “who’s out” challenges us to be clear about our beliefs and practices.  When we say of our ministry that “all are welcome”, do we live it out?  These are questions people of faith do well to answer, though admittedly, such self-examination can go neglected or discouraged.

            A few months ago, the town of Americus, Georgia, held a ceremony celebrating local persons who made a difference in their town.  Of interest was a very posthumous recognition for a man who died in 1969.  The Baptist leader Clarence Jordan was remembered for his civil rights leadership by the town leaders, an odd turn of events, considering town officials back in Clarence’s day tried to talk him into leaving town.  They didn’t want his controversial beliefs in integration and civil rights disturbing the peace.  Forty years later, the same town that rejected Clarence Jordan gave thanks for his work.  It is a remarkable testament how times change and the determination and clarity of vision it takes to be a prophet in your own hometown.

“Today the scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Reading Luke’s story of the “first sermon”, the faithful reader is challenged to ponder what effect Jesus would have if he were the guest preacher in your own congregation.  Would he be thanked at the door or tossed out of it?  Jesus presents an ambitious vision of the gospel, the same gospel we are called to carry out.  To care for those who are vulnerable, to engage in efforts to meet basic human needs, these are signs of the gospel coming to life.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at the end of a very long day.  I had been behind the computer screen working on administrative matters for so long, I lost track of time.  I looked outside and thought it was looking fairly overcast.  Actually, it was nighttime.  I got up from my desk to head for home.  (The dog doesn’t walk herself. She does, however, take me for walks.) 

By this time of day, the free clinic had set up its waiting room space, which crowded with patients, mostly young adults hoping to see a doctor.  Just around the corner, in the fellowship hall, the church choir was in the midst of rehearsal.

As I walked through the hallway and into the fellowship, moving from the murmur of patients shooting the breeze to pass the time to the choir working on the Sunday morning anthem, I felt a bit of joy rise up above the fatigue of wading through paperwork. Some days, it seems a bit up in the air, this effort to be a missional church engaged in the community while keeping up with all of the necessary elements of congregational life. Moments like these help me make sense of “the big picture” of ministry here at First Baptist. 

As the choir sang, the patients waited for a nurse to say “Next!” I could swear I heard another voice in the mix. 

“Today the scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”