The Entire View

“The Entire View”
Fourth Sunday of Epiphany, Year C, February 3, 2019
1 Corinthians 13:1-13 (Luke 4:14-21) Luke 4:21-30
First Presbyterian Church of Sandpoint, Idaho
Pastor Andy Kennaly

This week’s sermon is an extension from last week’s text where Jesus gives a reading, a teaching, and everyone is impressed. Today is part two in the sense of a shifting scene as people go from praise and admiration to rage and hostile agitation. They step outside to throw Jesus off a cliff!

Last week we noted the importance of the word, Today, as Jesus says, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” This verse is so pivotal, the Lectionary Planners include it in both last week and this week’s readings. In Greek, the Perfect tense is a type of verb, showing an action that is already complete, and even though it’s done, there’s also a sense that the action is ongoing, continually being done, and always needing done. Like David Lose paraphrases, telling us that

“Jesus is kind of saying, ‘Today this Scripture is fulfilled and continues to be fulfilled and will keep being fulfilled and therefore will keep needing to be fulfilled in your presence.’” (http://www.davidlose.net/2019/01/epiphany-3-c-declaration-promise-and-invitation/ David Lose’ online commentary, Partners in Preaching, posted Jan. 23, 2019)

In this teaching, Jesus embodies divine declaration, promise, and invitation, and the story itself is the illustration of the importance of inner transformation at a heart level, because our mind, like the people of Nazareth, rejects this teaching.

Last week, I also mentioned an experience I had while shoveling the snow off the church sidewalk, looking up and catching the United States Air Force in the act of refueling; three big jets flying over Sandpoint. My mind jumped to the school bus in Yemen blown up by Saudi Arabian jets which had been refueled by American tankers like those. I simply wondered if the crews above me had been involved in that mission?

Part of why that illustration ended up in that sermon is because it’s a little edgy, and it’s sort of a modern parallel to the dynamics involved as Jesus is preaching to his hometown crowd, as they switch from praise to attempted murder in reaction to his challenging their sense of nationalism, pointing out their arrogance and assumptions, and calling them out on the difference between what they say they believe and how they actually live that out. So if that illustration makes you at all uncomfortable, then it most likely worked as a successful parallel, illustrating the dynamics of the Gospel story.

But there’s another reason as well, which ties into the subtleties of this text in a different way, less of a social righteous angle, and more about inner awareness. Looking up into the sky and seeing military jets, I simply had a feeling of sadness at the loss of those kids. Feelings are feelings, and they need to be recognized because they are coming from somewhere, deeper inside of us. So as I pondered the sense of sadness I realized that I was also carrying feelings of hopelessness in the sense of feeling small compared to international politics and policies and powers taking actions which seem contrary to love. My sense of hope was waffling, trying to trust a larger consciousness, but really, discouraged. For me it was refuelers. Maybe for others it’s a diagnosis, or the critical illness of a friend or loved one. Perhaps we notice a gradual loss of independence through the aging process. As despair and hope wrestle, we all have feelings which need expressed and explored.

Power. Justice. Peace. Unity. Hope. And as Paul’s letter reminds us of the most important, Love. All of these mix and cook into a type of soup. For me, seeing those airplanes was an invitation to self- awareness, to plumb the depths of my own attitudes and assumptions, my own sense of patriotism, of exploring where my heart is in the midst of the mind’s wrestling.

Here we have Jesus quoting Isaiah, saying “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,” and we hear there is good news to the poor, release to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind, and even the oppressed go free. I want this done. Not a perfect verb tense, but past tense. I was feeling that day the burden of getting involved in the ongoing struggle as ministry engages not only cultural assumptions that people stake their lives on, but on the very mentality that creates this dynamic. Oh, if only ministry was as simple as shoveling sidewalks. We are called to partner with God, not to create believers with minds that have the right thoughts, but to make disciples whose hearts are converted, finding their center in Christ, whether or not they use that vocabulary.

This Gospel story, as it echoes through the ages with parallel stories, is an illustration of the difficulty and absolute necessity for the transformation of the human heart. We see and experience the murderous tyranny created by unhealthy egos protecting their position, the dangers created by attachment, even as we discover the amazing conversion that takes place when we find our center in Christ, who embodies the ongoing action of the only thing which truly matters, Love, which is God.

There’s a lot going on in this story. Deep, theological things like exploring who Jesus is, what his nature is like; is he God, is he human, is he both, and if so how do these natures, human and divine, mix, or are they separate; and if Jesus is like that, aren’t we too? Is he exceptional, or is he trying to awaken us to a truth we share with him? The stakes of this story are as large as the question, what does it mean to live as a human being, created in God’s image? How do you invite an awareness of God’s Presence, and how do you open your heart to allow that Presence to change your life? Do you really want that kind change, allowing God to take faith to the next level, or are you satisfied?

In Corinthians, Paul is urging the early church as they know quite well certain aspects of belief, to go deeper into the mystery of Love. Speaking in tongues, prophesy, faith and experience of unity, even total trust as possessions are released and bodies used in service; these all help express faith and hope and show the power of belief. But Paul is sharing an even deeper, more ancient aspect of our core identity in Christ: Love.

As the people of Nazareth are filled with rage that moves them to the point of wanting to throw Jesus off the cliff, we notice a couple things. One is that it involves everyone, no one is exempt from this very challenging work. “All in the synagogue were filled with rage.” The human ego is not tamed willingly or without struggle. Second, they took him “to the brow of the hill on which their town was built.” This echoes the temptation in the wilderness where the devil takes Jesus up and shows him all the kingdoms of the world, saying Jesus can have them all if he just worships the devil. Jesus responds, saying, “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.” (Luke 4:8). Jesus has challenged the human tendency to try and replace God, the technical word being ‘idolatry.’ We don’t give up our idols very easily, and we are masters at convincing ourselves that we don’t have any idols. Jesus exposes everyone’s delusions.

Our mode of thinking is usually dualistic, based on the judgment of our ego, welcoming that which it understands and rejecting everything else. Our circles of acceptance have rigid boundaries, borders we protect from crossing in either direction. If the unknown approaches us we view it as a threat and take action to defend ourselves. This is small-minded thinking. Paul, and Jesus, are inviting humanity into a Larger mind, a deeper Consciousness, a Centered Presence, and response to this invitation is through love; love which is so grounded, boundaries become permeable, love so secure, it has nothing to defend.

Notice Jesus doesn’t curse or condemn the people, doesn’t call down lighting to zap them on the hill. Here he is on the edge of the cliff, all the people of the synagogue defending the boundary of their will, the entire town and everything it’s built on, which represents more than structure and architecture, and Jesus “passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” This is an existential statement, not a description of how Jesus escaped their grip. Jesus reaches a limit in his life, and transcended that limit. Jesus stands on the boundary of his circle of comfort and discovers that self-imposed line doesn’t exist. Jesus takes all the teaching and fulfills it, then, now, and always. “Jesus went on his way” and his way is a journey of love, deeper into wisdom, oneness, and humility.

One of my favorite and most memorable quotes from Paul Reese Nystrom, who died last year, is this:

“It is only at the very edge of the cliff, at the most dangerous part, does one get the entire view.”

Jesus teaches us how to get to the very edge and shows us how to see beyond limitations to get the entire view. We are invited to participate in the holy dance of life freed from the constraints of dualism, without the need to defend, holding loosely that which we once clung to with attachment, and trusting the power of love, which is the greatest gift and puts all other gifts like faith and hope in their proper alignment and perspective. We are invited to follow Jesus on the way through the difficult struggles and temptations we face as we live into a deeper Reality defined by grace, where even things we typically view as opposites, like freedom and captivity, blindness and sight, oppression and freedom, are held together in paradox grounded in the deep mysteries of God.

May we, like Jesus, have courage to come alongside prophetic voices which teach truth and challenge the human tendency to idolatry and tyranny; to claim hope and faith in the midst of struggle and difficulty; but most of all, to embody love which creates, defines, and declares the deep peace of Christ in and for the world. As we follow Jesus to live into our calling as Christ’s body given and sent, may God be glorified, NOW, even as forever. Amen.