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.” (And I feel blessed whenever the assembly
includes children who are not old enough to understand!). 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 the Covenant God had made with them - they heard all this as if
for the first time, and they were moved to tears. All I can think is
that Ezra must have been one powerful and persuasive preacher!
This gets me wondering. We have just begun a Jubilee Year that is being
observed by the Church around the world. What would happen if, when we
sat down for the readings during Mass – any Mass – and stood for the
gospel, we were to hear God’s word as if for the first time, hear it
like those people who had just returned home from Exile.
Of course, we
aren’t in exile. Or maybe we are. For isn‘t exile part of our story,
too? Our Babylon isn’t a place on the map – it’s more a state of mind in
which God can seem far away from us, and the gospel can seem more burden
than gift. We do know a kind of exile. That’s one reason for this
Jubilee Year, this Holy Year proclaimed by Pope Francis. Think of it as
a year for re-ordering our priorities, a year for committing ourselves
to a more vigorous, vibrant, and intentional practice of our faith. Now,
if only we had Ezra up here to get our attention, to fire our
imagination, and maybe even bring us to tears! (Alas, you’re going to
have to settle for me!)
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!
How do you suppose that sounded to the people of Nazareth? They knew
Jesus, after all. They’d known him all his life. They had watched him
grow up, seen him play with their kids, observed him working alongside
Joseph, the local carpenter and handy man. They must have wondered who
Jesus thought he was to be making that claim. But even so, Luke tells us
that the people’s first reaction was very positive. They marveled at
what he said and spoke favorably of him. That would all change rather
quickly, but that’s another story for another Sunday. For now, we have
Jesus in this riveting moment in which he appropriates a great and
ancient prophecy to himself and the people marvel.
My
friends, both those readings are as much about today as they are about
way back when. Like the people of Ezra’s time, words of hope and
reassurance are addressed to us today in the midst of our exile, our
anxiety, our apprehensions, our concerns. And, like Jesus in the
synagogue at Nazareth, we can make the claim that Isaiah’s great
prophecy is being fulfilled in our hearing. Fulfilled in us! That’s
because the same Sprit who lived in Jesus lives also in us, thanks to
our Baptism, thanks to our Confirmation. The same Spirit who called
Jesus to bring glad tidings to the poor and to proclaim liberty to
captives calls us to use our energies, our influence, our voices, our
vote, to speak on behalf of the oppressed and the voiceless. And when we
look at the present plight of so many migrants, refugees, and
asylum-seekers, we don’t have to look very far to find the oppressed and
the voiceless, do we! To this point, I couldn’t help but take note of
what Archbishop Broglio, the president of the US Council of Catholic
Bishops had to say this week: As a nation blessed with many gifts, our
actions must demonstrate a genuine care for our most vulnerable sisters
and brothers – the unborn, the poor, the elderly and infirm, migrants,
asylum seekers, refugees. The just Judge expects nothing else.”
My friends, long ago, when Ezra stood before the assembly, the people
listened and were so moved that they wept. Centuries later when Jesus
did the same, the people marveled and expressed their admiration. But
what about now? Well, I’m not sure we need weeping, marveling, or
admiration, but a firm resolve to take all this to heart and to do
everything we can will make quite a difference. We have our work cut out
for us. We really do!
Father Michael G. Ryan
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