When the people in the synagogue heard this, they were all filled with fury.
They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill
on which their town had been built,
to hurl him down headlong.
Today's gospel appears in the first chapters of Saint Luke's Gospel. It describes the angry reaction of Jesus's kith and kin as he returned from the wilderness and the encounter with Satan.
We might wonder where this furious anger comes from. Clearly, he set them off but he had apparently walked into a powder keg of combustible distress. They were, to quote Howard Beal from the movie Network, as mad as hell and weren't going to put up with it anymore.
Saint Luke gives no clue as to what they were upset about, but the incident in Nazareth -- which seemed to blow over as quickly as it erupted -- presages the climactic riot in Jerusalem. But that far worse incident also evaporated like the morning dew; it seemed forgotten until Saint Peter confronted the capital with its crimes fifty days later.
That scene in Network described the mood of many Americans in 1976. A year some might now remember as the good old days, comfortable, peaceable, and predictable. How should our mood today be portrayed? What would happen to Jesus were he to approach a political rally or a Sunday morning service and announce his mission to
...bring glad tidings to the poor. ...to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord?
Jesus's people were in no mood to hear the Gospel. In Luke 9, he will tell his disciples to "leave that town, (and) shake the dust from your feet in testimony against them.” There's no need to meet anger with anger or insult with insult; there's no reasonable expectation that your calm reasonable explanations will prevail. Just walk away.
But aren't those angry people condemned by their decision? Haven't they missed their one opportunity to hear the Gospel and be saved? So it would seem.
In another apocalyptic age, in the earliest days of the Church, Saint John of Patmos wrote,
Then I heard another voice from heaven say:
“Depart from her, my people,
so as not to take part in her sins
and receive a share in her plagues,
for her sins are piled up to the sky,
and God remembers her crimes. (Revelation 18:4)
During Lent, by prayer, fasting, and works of mercy, we withdraw as far as possible from the angry mob around us. We do not welcome their violence; if they would join us they should leave their weapons and weaponized righteousness somewhere else.
Lent demands silence if we would hear the Lord speak. Turning off the incessant cycle of 24/7 news, we listen to Good News of God's mercy.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.