The Third Sunday in Ordinary Time
January 24, 2016

     I’m always happy when we get scripture readings that are easy to visualize. Some are, some aren’t; but I find it quite easy to picture today’s reading from Nehemiah and the one from Luke’s gospel, too.

     In the reading from Nehemiah, Ezra the priest stood up to read before an assembly much like this one - with men, women, “and those children old enough to understand” (a little aside: isn’t it nice to think that our assembly includes those children who are not old enough to understand. I think that’s even better!).  Ezra stood before the people in a place called the Water Gate (a name that will trigger a memory for those of us of a certain age!) - he stood on an elevated platform like this one so that the people could see him as well as hear him. And when he opened up the scroll to read from the Torah, the Law of God, the people, out of respect, stood up and listened with rapt attention.

     Now this was more than a routine Sabbath service at the local Synagogue. It was a Sabbath service at a time when religious practice among the Israelites was at a low ebb. They had just returned home after long years of exile in Babylon. During those years, far from home, far from the temple, far from all they held dear, God had seemed very far away. In fact, in some ways, during their time of exile God’s Law and the sense of God’s abiding presence had all but faded for them.  So when Ezra got up to read from the Law and interpret it, telling the people that God’s Law was a precious gift to them, not a burden, and reminding them of God’s Covenant with them - they heard all this as if for the first time, and they were moved to tears.  Ezra must have been one powerful and persuasive preacher!

     In the reading from Luke’s gospel, Jesus did something similar.  Jesus was visiting his hometown of Nazareth when the Sabbath came around. Like all good Jews, he went to the Synagogue and, like Ezra of old, he stood up in the midst of the assembly and read from the scroll that was handed to him.  In this case, it was a passage from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah, a passage about how God would one day visit his people, bringing good news to the poor, freedom for the oppressed, and recovery of sight for the blind.  It was a glorious, liberating passage and one that had always filled the people with hope. But what they were not prepared for is what Jesus told them after he read it.  “Today,” Jesus said, “today this passage is fulfilled in your hearing!” In other words, don’t think of this as a prophecy about some time way off in the future: it’s about now.  It’s about today!  And it’s about me! What Isaiah proclaimed long ago is happening right now!

     Both those readings got me thinking about this moment, this “today.”  As you know, Pope Francis has called us to a Jubilee Year of Mercy. Echoing Jesus and the prophecy from Isaiah that he read in the synagogue at Nazareth, Pope Francis has challenged us to become people of mercy; he has invited us to what he calls “a revolution of tenderness.”  And what does being people of mercy mean?  What is this “revolution of tenderness?”  It’s exactly what Jesus proclaimed in the synagogue of Nazareth: it’s bringing glad tidings to the poor, proclaiming liberty to captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freeing those unjustly held bound.  In other words, it means leaving behind our comfort zone - going out to what the Pope calls “the peripheries” - going out like he does to marginalized people, including those marginalized and even harmed by the Church - going out, not so much with words as with deeds, deeds of love, deeds of reconciliation, deeds of mercy. 

     And what is our reaction to this invitation?  Well, I would hope that it would resemble the reaction of the people to Ezra when they shouted, “Amen! Amen!”  And I would hope that it would resemble the people’s response to Jesus in his hometown synagogue as they fixed their eyes on him and marveled at what he had to say. But I would hope that our response would have more staying power than theirs for, as we will hear in next Sunday’s gospel, the positive response of the people of Nazareth was short lived. In one moment they marveled at Jesus; in the next, they turned on him because they couldn’t abide this local boy they had watched grow up making claims about himself that they thought he had no right to make. It’s always that way with prophets, isn’t it!

     It’s certainly that way with Pope Francis. His prophetic words and his courageous actions gain him praise from many but, often enough, they also trigger resistance - stiff opposition, even – and sometimes from surprising sources.  Happily, he seems undaunted. Like Jesus, the gospel is burning within him and he will preach it, no matter what. 

     My friends, long ago, when Ezra got up in the midst of the assembly, the people listened and were so moved that they wept and prostrated themselves. Centuries later when Jesus did the same, the people marveled and expressed their admiration. And what about now?  Well, I’m not sure we need weeping, marveling, admiration or prostration, but what we do need is a firm resolve to use our voices, our votes, our influence, our prayers, and every ounce of energy we have to bring glad tidings to the poor and mercy to the oppressed.  That’s the way to bring about Pope Francis’ “revolution of tenderness,” the only way.

     It’s the Year of Mercy, my friends. And the world badly needs mercy. We’ve got our work cut out for us! And mercy? Mercy starts right here at the table of the Eucharist. It starts here but it doesn’t end here.  It ends out there…!

     Father Michael G. Ryan