Palm Sunday: The Alabaster Jar

Thanks to Kathryn Matthews Huey, whose work informed this sermon, and to Jace Foster, whose advice helped this sermon stay reasonably on-target. This sermon also (once again) benefited from Jimmy Spencer Jr,'s incredible book, "Love Without Agenda." Seriously, go buy the book. Now. I'll wait.

The audio from the sermon:


Check this out on Chirbit

This song was playing in my head while I wrote the first part of this sermon...

Philippians 2:5-11

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — even death on a cross.

Therefore God also highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

John 12:12-16

The next day the great crowd that had come to the festival heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, shouting, "Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord — the King of Israel!”
Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it; as it is written: “Do not be afraid, daughter of Zion. Look, your king is coming, sitting on a donkey’s colt!”
His disciples did not understand these things at first; but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things had been written of him and had been done to him.

This is the Word of the Lord.

They shouted for a savior. They shouted for a king. They shouted because they hoped to see a miracle. They shouted because everyone else was shouting.

But, of course, none of them understood. None of them grasped that, by the end of the week, this man they had lauded as the King of Israel would be writhing in agony, gasping for breath, dying the excruciatingly gruesome, horribly slow, loathsomely humiliating slave’s death of the Roman cross.

I take that back. I think one person besides Jesus understood.

In the crowd that day, listening as Jesus spoke to the Greek visitors we met last week, was a woman. As is so often the case, we do not know her name. Perhaps she was one of the women who had joined with the group early on, perhaps she had seen Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, or perhaps she herself had received healing from his hands. In any case, when she heard Jesus say, “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself,” and felt the shock and irritation of the crowd around her, she reacted differently.

Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan call this woman “the first Christian,” because she was the first person to take Jesus seriously when he talked about his suffering and death.

While everyone around her was arguing that, if Jesus was the Messiah they had just acclaimed him as, he couldn’t ever die, she somehow understood that this death, this being “lifted up,” was the whole point.

And as the storm clouds gathered, she was the first person to take action. I’m picking up the narrative in the Gospel of Mark, the 14^th chapter, first verse through the 15^th chapter, 47^th verse.

“It was two days before the Passover and the festival of Unleavened Bread. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him; for they said, ‘Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.’

“While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, ‘Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.’ And they scolded her. But Jesus said, ‘Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.’

“Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them. When they heard it, they were greatly pleased, and promised to give him money. So he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.”

We often focus on the argument that takes place surrounding this woman’s actions, and – like the disciples who were there with Jesus – miss the profound beauty, and deep truth, of what this woman is doing.

On the one hand, the Temple elite were brainstorming ways to have Jesus arrested and killed, while on the other, the disciples were still consumed with questions and power plays. Into this steps this unknown woman, offering Jesus love and attention, and lavishing him with generosity. While the criticism over her gift swirls, (“the money could have been given to the poor!”) writer Megan McKenna points out that Jesus was the poor! She writes, “He is the poorest man in that house.”

He is an innocent man facing a brutal execution, and before too much longer, most of his friends will abandon him. He will be left alone, naked, and bleeding, on display for the ridicule and mockery of all. This woman brings a gift equal in value to a year’s wages, an offering of breathtaking splendor, a luxurious indulgence… a gift of preparation for his coming burial.

Jesus was the poorest man in that house. He had given up so much, for so great a need…

“…though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — even death on a cross.”

“And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

Imagine the extravagance of going out, seemingly on the spur of the moment, and spending an entire year’s income on perfume. Imagine the reckless abandon of bursting into someone’s home, breaking open the precious vessel that holds the perfume, and emptying every ounce of it on the head of another person. Imagine caring that much. Imagine loving that much.

Now, think of this: Jesus Christ emptied himself. Every ounce.

Please understand: nothing, at any point in the life of Jesus, was forced on him. Jesus poured himself out on purpose. Jesus became a servant on purpose. Jesus became a human being on purpose.

Oh, and those priests and scribes, running around with their plans and their plots and their bags of silver? The Roman governor, Pilate? They may think they have the skills and the authority to force this travelling street preacher from the middle of nowhere into an early grave, but even that – even death – is something that Jesus will do on purpose.

What is more, all of this – God taking the form of man, living the life of a mortal, sacrificing himself for the sake of God’s creation, all of this was settled before anything was, in fact, created at all!

And despite this fact, the pain, the abandonment, the horror that Jesus Christ will feel, the cold and all-too-permanent reality of death, none of this is contrived. It is all very real. Imagine caring that much. Imagine loving that much.

All of our theological studies, all of our creedal affirmations, all of our doctrinal discussions and apologetic arguments boil down to one word, a central, burning truth which has forever changed the course of history, the trajectory of the universe itself: love.

One of the easiest phrases in all of Christianity is the phrase, “Jesus did this for us.” It’s easy, and it’s true… but it doesn’t go far enough.

It would be easy for Jesus to love the woman with the alabaster jar. It would be easy for Jesus to love the Apostle John, who stayed at the foot of the cross with Jesus’ mother all through that horrible afternoon.

But what about Judas? What about Peter, who denied him three times? What about the priests and scribes who dragged him before Pilate? And what about Pilate, who was too cowardly, in the end, to do what he knew was right? What about the Roman soldiers, who gambled away his clothing? Or that one particular soldier, who shoved a spear through Jesus’ heart after he died?

It’s easy to imagine God loving the people like us, dying for our friends and our family. But what about “them:” people who are not like us? People who look different than us, think differently, act differently, believe differently?

Imagine that year’s salary, spent on perfume, is your year’s salary. And imagine yourself  being able to choose anyone on earth to empty that incredibly precious perfume on… and choosing the vilest, most frightening and despicable human being on earth to receive that gift. A sworn enemy. A bloodthirsty rival. And imagine doing it with no assurance that this monster of a human being will in any way change?

That is exactly – exactly – what Jesus did. Romans 5:8 confirms this: “But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us.”

And who is “us?” Every human being.

That’s right. There is no “them.” Jesus poured his life out for every person: the Trayvon Martins and the George Zimmermans, the death row inmates and their victims, the Mother Theresas and the Joseph Konys, the Fred Phelpses and the Billy Grahams…

As followers of the risen Christ, as people who know about this all-encompassing love, as the beneficiaries of that love, as the recipients of the outpouring of the Holy Spirit into our hearts, will we stand around like the disciples did when that alabaster jar was broken, shaking our heads at the waste, or will we instead shout “Hosannah!” in celebration of the gift?

"It Makes a Difference To That One."

The idea that "there is no 'them'" comes from my friend Jimmy Spencer Jr., whose book, "Love Without Agenda" is a must-read. Seriously.

I think far too many people treat Christianity as a cause to be defended, rather than what it is: a kingdom to be inhabited, a restoration of community with the Creator, unconditional and abundant grace and love to be lavished about in a scandalously extravagant manner.

I've said it before, and I will say it again. God loves everyone. Jesus died for everyone. Jesus rose for everyone.

For crying out loud, let's start acting like it.

Isaiah 40:21-31

Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told you from the beginning? Have you not understood from the foundations of the earth?
It is he who sits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to live in; who brings princes to naught, and makes the rulers of the earth as nothing.

Scarcely are they planted, scarcely sown, scarcely has their stem taken root in the earth, when he blows upon them, and they wither, and the tempest carries them off like stubble.

To whom then will you compare me, or who is my equal? says the Holy One.
Lift up your eyes on high and see: Who created these? He who brings out their host and numbers them, calling them all by name; because he is great in strength, mighty in power, not one is missing.

Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, “My way is hidden from the LORD, and my right is disregarded by my God”?
Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

1 Corinthians 9:16-23

If I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel! For if I do this of my own will, I have a reward; but if not of my own will, I am entrusted with a commission. What then is my reward? Just this: that in my proclamation I may make the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my rights in the gospel.

For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all, so that I might win more of them. To the Jews I became as a Jew, in order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law) so that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak, so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people, that I might by all means save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share in its blessings.

Mark 1:29-39

As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.

That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him.

In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons.

This is the Word of the Lord.

I almost get the feeling sometimes, when reading the book of Mark, that Jesus and the apostles were running everywhere they went. Mark uses words and phrases like “immediately,” “just then,” “straightaway,” “as soon as.” The intensity and speed might just make us rush along in reading, and that would be a mistake. Because even though Mark seems to be sprinting through the ministry of Christ, there is a lot to look at as he flies by.

Our Gospel reading picks up where we left off last Sunday; Jesus has spoken in the synagogue at Capernaum, and has cast out – more like evicted – a demon from a possessed man. He leaves the synagogue with his disciples and goes to the home where Simon and Andrew live.

There is some credible evidence that we know exactly where this synagogue and house were. Archaeologists have excavated the site of the synagogue at Capernaum, and in its shadow is a place that, since at least the second century, Christians have believed the home of Simon and Andrew to be.

In that day and age, the idea of a single-family home would have been as foreign as a radio broadcast. The houses were generally quite large, with one entrance, rooms surrounding a large open courtyard where the cooking was done. Sometimes these homes had a second story, very often there were stairs to the roof, where one could catch a cool breeze in the evening. Simon and Andrew’s whole family would have shared the structure, and the fact that Simon’s mother-in-law lived there as well would not have been much of a surprise.

In fact, we can infer that Simon’s mother-in-law acted as the matriarch of the home, taking care of the day-to-day comings and goings, purchases and cooking, and all the thousand details that would have gone into keeping a house that size running. She would have been well-known to everyone in the community from the marketplace, the common well, and neighborly conversation. And it needs to be noted that it would have been not just expected, but a great honor, for her to provide hospitality to visitors.

But this day, Simon’s mother-in-law was sick. I wonder if the phrase from our reading, “…they told him about her at once” came out more like, “Um, Jesus, dreadfully sorry supper isn’t ready, but, y’see, the mother-in-law, well, she’s terribly ill right now, and none of the rest of us know how to boil water. Want some bread?”

But in reality it wasn’t that simple. A fever in those days, before the development of aspirin and antibiotics and such, could have been deadly. So of course Jesus does what we expect him to do – after all, we’ve read the Gospels, we’ve heard the stories, we know what Jesus did to people who were sick, right? “He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them.”

Now, I do not at all think it is a coincidence that the Greek word used where we read “and lifted her up” is the same word used for resurrection. And lest we think that Jesus simply went into her room and healed her so he could get a sandwich, there’s another important Greek word in action here for “she began to serve them.” Diakonos, which our word “deacon” comes from, is the same word Jesus uses in speaking of himself, in the tenth chapter of Mark when he says, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.”

As miraculous as the healing is, as astounding as the earlier exorcism may be, there are even greater things at work here, you see. These are merely elements of the greater message that Jesus is proclaiming.

As far as Mark is concerned, the synagogue which Jesus spoke in earlier that day was the first one of any importance that Jesus visited. But from Luke’s Gospel, we know that this is the second such visit. Because before he came to Capernaum, he was in Nazareth, where he took the scroll of the prophet Isaiah and read from it these words: “¹⁸ “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he anointed me to preach the Gospel to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, to set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the favorable year of the Lord.”

This is where, after he read the passage and sat down to teach, he said “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” – and he like to have gotten killed.

I want to suggest that, even though Mark makes no mention of the Nazareth event, the things that Jesus does in Capernaum are making the same bold statement. Jesus has proclaimed the year of Jubilee!

The year of Jubilee is first mentioned in the 25^th chapter of the book of Leviticus. The children of Israel, until recently a nation of slaves to the Egyptian people, were entering into a land promised to them by God – filled with houses they had not built, orchards they had not tended, fields they had not planted, riches they had not earned. All they were about to receive was a gift from God, and it was imperative to the spiritual health and the integrity off that community that they never, ever forgot that fact.

So every fiftieth year, a ram’s horn would blow, and in that year, every plot of land that had been sold was to be returned to the original owner. Any persons who had sold themselves into slavery were freed. Any money owed was forgiven. The slate was wiped clean. Sure, fifty years is a long time, and yes, adjustments in how much land or loans cost would be made based upon how close to that fiftieth year you were, but in the end, on that fiftieth year, when the ram’s horn blew, everything reset at zero. The poor were restored to wholeness, and the rich had just enough.

That was how it was supposed to have worked, anyway. In practice, most scholars think that this “Year of Jubilee” happened rarely, if ever. There were judges who could be bribed, and priests who could be paid to forget what year it was.

And the rich got richer, the poor got poorer.

But Jesus came to proclaim the coming of the Kingdom of God – freedom for the captives, sight for the blind, restoration and healing and life! And while in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus talks about his mission in the synagogue of Nazareth, in Mark’s Gospel, here in Capernaum, we see what the Jubilee year in the Kingdom of God really looks like.

In an instant, with a few words, a demon-possessed man is set free from his oppression, and restored to his place in the synagogue and the community. In an instant, with a touch, a feverish woman is set free from illness and restored to her place in the household and the community.

It’s no wonder that, as soon as the sun set and the Sabbath was completed, the entryway to Simon and Andrew’s home was clogged with people bringing others who were oppressed, others who were sick or enslaved by the demonic – men and women and children who needed release, healing, restoration.

And Jesus did what Jesus does – he proclaimed release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, and set free those who were oppressed…

And when he moved on the next day, it was so he could preach the Gospel in all those poor little villages and neighboring towns.

And, you know, the whole blowing-the-ram’s-horn thing to signal the year of Jubilee, it seems like that would be a loud proclamation, something that got attention, a sound like no other. Funny, isn’t it, that there’s no horns blowing in Capernaum. Jesus simply told the demon to shut up and get out in the synagogue, and he didn’t say anything at all to Simon’s mother-in-law. He didn’t go looking for things to do, he simply did what needed to be done in the moment at hand.

But as simply and as quietly as Jesus did what needed doing, people took notice. People responded. People recognized, in Jesus, hope for those who had been decimated by illness, tormented by evil, tortured by madness, removed from their rightful place in society. And through that recognition they saw and experienced the now-and-coming Kingdom of God.

Most simply put, in being for the proclamation of the Gospel, in being for the Kingdom of God, Jesus became known as someone who was for people, and that is a lesson for Christians today.

You may have noticed that, by and large, people outside the faith identify Christians more and more by the things we are supposed to be against. We have allowed TV preachers and opportunistic politicians of all stripes to define the faith as a system by which we identify what is wrong with everyone else. All too often, the Bible is used as a hammer – and everyone and everything is a nail. People hear about an Alabama legislator (who I will not name, because I don’t want to give him the publicity) saying that the Bible opposes teacher pay raises – but is all for legislative pay raises! – and they think every Christian is like him. People see Westboro Baptist Church picketing the funerals of soldiers killed in Iraq and Afganistan, and think every Christian is like that.

Christianity has become, in many people’s eyes, both inside of and outside of the church, a clique, a social class, another case of “us” versus “them.”

But as far as the Gospel is concerned – and I mean the real Gospel, the one we find in the Scriptures, not the gospel that the TV preachers and the politicians and the pundits would have you believe – there is no “us” and “them.”

Hear the Word of God from the Book of Isaiah, chapter 53, verse 6: “All of us like sheep have gone astray, Each of us has turned to his own way; But the LORD has caused the iniquity of us all to fall on Him.”

Without Jesus Christ, no one is “us.” Everyone – everyone – is “them.” We are all alike, left to our own devices. Self-centered, self-destructive, self-absorbed. Our god is the reflection in the mirror. And God knows that, and God loves us anyway, so much that Jesus Christ came and died and rose again to bring us back to God.

And that is how we should be known – not for being against and anti and opposed, but for being like Jesus, for people. All people. Everywhere. Like Jesus – not doing the big things or the flashy thing or the attention-getting things, but doing what is needed right now, in the moment, for someone who is hurting or oppressed or afflicted or forgotten. Declare the year of Jubilee, even if it’s one person at a time.

There’s a story that’s told about a man who is walking along a beach. The tide had gone out, and had stranded hundreds of starfish. He comes upon a boy who is picking the starfish up, one by one, and throwing them back into the ocean. He watches awhile, and says, “This seems like kind of a futile effort, son. There’s too many to save all of them. You could take all day, and it won’t make a difference.” The boy never misses a beat. He picks up another starfish, sends it spinning into the surf, and says, “It makes a difference to that one.”

Share that pot of coffee with a grieving person. Take that phone call from the depressed acquaintance. Buy that meal for the hungry homeless person. Give that dollar to the panhandler. Reply to that email, respond to that wall posting on FaceBook, return that text message. Declare the year of Jubilee, even if it’s one person at a time.

I know there’s not enough time in the day to respond to every request for donations, to participate in every worthy cause. Mother Teresa said that if you can’t feed a hundred hungry people, feed just one!

Believe me, it makes a difference to that one.

Sound The Ram's Horn!

I'm indebted to the writings of Andre Trocme,  Jimmy Spencer Jr., and Walter Brueggeman for planting the seeds for this sermon.

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise the words of prophets, but test everything; hold fast to what is good; abstain from every form of evil.

May the God of peace himself sanctify you entirely; and may your spirit and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do this.

John 1:6-8, 19-28

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.

This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” He said,
 “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, Make straight the way of the Lord,’” as the prophet Isaiah said.

Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?” John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion — to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, to display his glory. They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.

For I the LORD love justice, I hate robbery and wrongdoing; I will faithfully give them their recompense, and I will make an everlasting covenant with them.
Their descendants shall be known among the nations, and their offspring among the peoples; all who see them shall acknowledge that they are a people whom the LORD has blessed.
I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord GOD will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.

This is the Word of the Lord.

It’s “Joy” Sunday in the Advent season, and we’ve lit the pink candle! Every week the sanctuary is ever so much brighter as another candle in the wreath burns.

But for the citizens of Jerusalem, the men and women who Isaiah speaks to this week, the idea of joy is laughable. Bit by bit, those who had been exiled to Babylon, and more likely their children or grandchildren, were returning to the rubble of their city. For some, their homes and their land had been taken over by squatters. Still others, relying on their reputation and whatever wealth they had hoarded up during the exile, took back what was theirs, and more. What little was built back was getting done slowly, and people were falling deeper and deeper in debt to lenders who cared little for the Biblical mandate against charging interest. More and more people went to debtor’s prison, and had their children sold into slavery.

This was not the way it was supposed to be.

What happened to the Jerusalem that Isaiah cried out to in last week’s reading? The people who were being comforted because they had paid double for their sins?

Well, “All people are grass, their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it.” Just as Isaiah had foreseen, the people of Jerusalem, far from learning the lesson the exile was meant to teach them, had withered in their resolve, had faded in their faithfulness, had gone back to their old oppressive, unjust ways.

Now, there is something going on in our Isaiah passage this morning that isn’t obvious at first glance. The language, in addition to being poetic and beautiful, is revolutionary in what it is proclaiming. So revolutionary, in fact, that when Jesus read these words in the fourth chapter of the Gospel of Luke, and proclaimed them fulfilled, those listening tried to kill him!

For background, we need to go back to the 25^th chapter of the book of Leviticus. The Children of Israel, this recently-freed nation of slaves, was en route to a homeland they had never seen, set to inherit homes they had not built, orchards and fields they had not planted, riches beyond their wildest dreams! But God intended for the nation of Israel to be ever mindful that they – like us – owe everything they have to God.

So every fiftieth year, any land which had been sold was returned to the seller; any persons who had sold themselves into slavery were freed; any money owed was forgiven. The slate was wiped clean. Sure, fifty years is a long time, and yes, adjustments in how much land or loans cost would be made based upon how close to that fiftieth year you were, but in the end, on that fiftieth year, when the ram’s horn blew, everything reset at zero. The poor were restored to wholeness, and the rich had just enough.

You can probably imagine how unpopular such an idea would be with those who had wealth, power, and status. To be sure, most scholars think that this “Year of Jubilee” happened rarely, if ever. There were judges who could be bribed, and priests who could be paid to forget what year it was.

And the rich got richer, the poor got poorer.

This is the dark hole of despair into which Isaiah’s words speak. Sound the ram’s horn! Proclaim good news to the oppressed, healing for the brokenhearted, liberty to the slaves, release to the prisoners, comfort for those who mourn – The Year of the Lord’s Favor, Jubilee, is coming!

The late Liberation Theologian Andre Trocme suggests that, when Jesus spoke these words, the rich and powerful understood that he was calling for Jubilee – the restoration of the poor, the cancellation of debts – immediately, and they could not abide such a threat to their wealth. That’s why they immediately tried to kill him, and he escaped by the skin of his teeth.

But I wonder: in the long run, the people who had made their money by cheating the poor, by bribing officials – and this is by no means an indictment of all rich people; I am speaking of a specific situation where, despite the Mosaic Law forbidding charging interest and demanding a Year of Jubilee, people had knowingly and arrogantly broken the law for their personal gain – I wonder if, deep down, after recovering from the shock of the loss, they, too, would have felt a restoration of joy?

You don’t have to look too far to find people who are fabulously rich, but seem miserable. Just about any Hollywood celebrity or reality-show “star” comes to mind. For that matter, Donald Trump never looks happy, either.

How much worse would it be for someone who had climbed to the top on the backs of the poor, overcharging, enslaving, cheating? Wouldn’t you always be looking over your shoulder to see who was going to stab you in the back? There couldn’t be any joy in that kind of life; rather, that person would always be eaten up by worry, scrabbling for more, making sure his back was covered, make sure he knew where his enemies were hiding. Jubilee would, in the end, be a relief, wouldn’t it?

The real gift of joy in the Year of Jubilee, though, was in its reminder that God, and not human beings, truly held the deed on the land the Israelites occupied. God, and not human beings, controlled the wealth in the land. In the Jubilee year, the poor would no longer be poor. Those rendered homeless would get their houses back. Those sold into slavery to pay debts, and those in debtor’s prison, would find freedom, their debts wiped clean.

In the Year of Jubilee, God sets everything right again. Isaiah proclaims that the Year of Jubilee is coming. Jesus confirms, when he reads this passage in the synagogue, that the Year of Jubilee, when God will set everything right again, is, in fact, at hand!

In this Advent season, isn’t this a word for us? In a world where nations, and entire continents, are in near economic collapse, when mortgages are under water and people see no end to debt, when the gap between the rich and poor is growing wider and wider… Sound the ram’s horn! Good news. Healing. Liberty. Release. Comfort.

In this Advent season, isn’t this a word for us? In a world where natural disasters have devastated Haiti and Japan, where years after Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans still struggles to recover, where places like Tuscaloosa, Hackleburg, Cordova and Pratt City, Alabama, as well as Joplin, Missouri are still picking up the pieces from tornadoes… Sound the ram’s horn! Good news. Healing. Liberty. Release. Comfort.

In this Advent season, isn’t this a word for us? In a world where one in seven people worldwide are hungry, where eleven million people face famine and starvation in eastern Africa, where, right here in the United States, hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children are homeless, right now… Sound the ram’s horn! Good news. Healing. Liberty. Release. Comfort.

Advent calls to Jubilee – to reconsider our priorities, to find joy not in how much stuff we have, where we live, who friends us on FaceBook or what team we root for, but – like John the Baptist in our Gospel reading today – in who we point to, who we worship, whose image we reflect.

We, the Body of Christ, are called, as one, to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. We are called to comfort all who mourn… we are called to rebuild the ancient ruins of broken lives, to heal the devastation of hunger and disaster and homelessness, and, like John the Baptist, to proclaim to each and every one, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”

In this Advent season, isn’t this a word for us? And isn’t it time? Sound the ram’s horn! Good news. Healing. Liberty. Release. Comfort.