Prayer: Come Holy Spirit, come.  Take my lips and speak with them.  Take our minds and think with them.  Take our hearts and set them in fire with love for you.  In Christ’s name, we ask it.  Amen.

I am an avid reader.  In particular, I love fiction.  I’m a sucker for a good story.  Fantasy, mystery, adventure, drama, short stories, plays, or novels, it doesn’t matter—the more imaginative the better.  However, it wasn’t always so.  I am certain that if it wasn’t for my discovery of Cliff’s Notes I wouldn’t have made it through seventh grade English.  I don’t think I actually read one book that entire year.  I do remember that most of the books had to do with rites of passage and, strangely, dogs—books like “White Fang” and “Call of the Wild.”  Anyway, it wasn’t until the following year, during eighth grade, that one book would change all of that for me—one book would single-handedly teach me that I did in fact like to read.  And, for the most part, I have been hooked ever since.  That book, which is still my favorite, is Harper Lee’s “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

The protagonist of the story is Atticus Finch.  Atticus is a white attorney who risks his career, his family’s welfare, and even his own life to represent a black man wrongly accused of raping a white woman in the racially divided South during the Great Depression.  In 1962, the book was made into a movie staring Gregory Peck as Atticus Finch.  In fact, Peck would win an academy award that year for his role. 

Several years ago the American Film Institute released its list of the one hundred greatest heroes and villains in the history of feature film length movies.  The list of heroes contains many of the obvious choices such as James Bond, Indiana Jones, Luke Skywalker, and Jack Ryan.  The list also includes heroic women like Erin Brockovich and Sigourney Weaver’s character in Alien.  However, at the top of the list, number one, surprisingly to me is Atticus Finch.  Considering our western stereotype of the hero, Atticus seems an unlikely choice.  He doesn’t destroy any evil empires.  He doesn’t mow down hoards of bad guys with guns and, after running out of ammo, his own two fists.  He doesn’t save a damsel in distress winning her undying love and devotion.  No, Atticus simply sacrifices everything he cares for including himself to stand up for Tom Robinson a man marginalized and unjustly accused of a heinous crime because of the color of his skin. 

Atticus Finch is a different kind of hero than we’ve come to expect.  For much of the story, in his bigoted community, he’s considered an outsider and a “bad guy.”  However, he’s willing to assume that role in his community despite the danger because of what’s right and good.  Atticus Finch is no doubt a hero.  But his heroism defies the expectations of his own world and still of ours still today.  Atticus Finch reminds me of another hero in another age—Jesus.

In this evenings Gospel lesson, we encounter Jesus, at the beginning of his ministry, in his hometown of Nazareth.  He is the homegrown boy made good who has returned to his own people.  Luke writes, “All spoke well of Jesus and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”  The buzz was good, the crowd anticipating something big.  But as much as they liked Jesus, they weren’t ready to cast him quite yet in the role of the Messiah—the hero.  Certainly he was a good guy but the hero that would prove to be Israel’s savior—unlikely at best.  Granted, the crowd gathered there in Nazareth was likely filled with people who had long been looking for a hero.  After generations of occupation and oppression by foreign powers, at that time the Romans, the people of Israel were looking for a hero someone with the powers of a Superman, the daring of an Indiana Jones, the firepower of a Terminator, and the wisdom of an Obi Wan Kenobi to lead them into a new era of freedom, prosperity and rule by God alone.  But certainly this hero they desire wasn’t Jesus…or was he?

It is the Sabbath day, and Jesus stands up to read from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah.  As he began, there must have been a hush over the people.  Jesus reads, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”  These words were a familiar rallying cry of the Jewish people.  Every time they heard them read they yearned for the coming Messiah, the coming hero, who would free the people of Israel from their gut wrenching bondage to the Romans.  At this point, things are going well for Jesus.  However, as soon as he reads the words, “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,” something strange happens.  Luke tells us that Jesus abruptly stops reading, rolls up the scroll, hands it to the attendant, sits down, and then ads as an exclamation point, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in you hearing.”

What is strange is Jesus’ choice to stop reading where he did.  Isaiah’s prophecy had not come to its conclusion.  Jesus had stopped in mid verse.  If we were to look up Isaiah’s prophecy from which Jesus read, we would find that the prophecy continues with these words, “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God.”  That’s, after all, what a true hero, a true messiah, is supposed to be about—justice, power, the destruction of unbelievers and enemies—the eradication of the Romans.  A hero is supposed to be the swashbuckling, sword-wielding captain holding off the charging enemy horde with his last breath.  Yet Jesus defies the Hollywood ending that the people of Nazareth and so many of us want to see and hear.  Jesus radically alters the people of Nazareth’s understanding of the Messiah.  Jesus, the Messiah, did not come among us to wreak vengeance upon the unrighteous; instead, he came to pour out God’s grace on all people by sacrificing his own life.  In bold and shocking terms, Jesus was announcing that the protagonist of this particular reality show would be a man standing up for mercy and peace rather than standing over the smoldering bodies of his enemies.  And this was not the ending for which the people of Nazareth had bought their tickets. 

Sensing the people’s indignation, Jesus adds a dramatic plot twist by reminding the Jewish people in Nazareth of two times in their own history where God extended mercy to outsiders, to the marginalized, to the unclean—first to a Gentile woman, the widow of Zarephath, and second to a staunch enemy of Israel, Naaman the Syrian.  This Messiah, God’s Messiah, Jesus was about to embark on a mission of doing the same thing—bringing God’s grace and love to those who most desperately need it regardless of their religious affiliation, racial ethnicity, or their socio-economic status.

It takes only a few minutes for Jesus’ hometown fans who want no part of making nice with the people they call enemies to change their minds about Jesus.  In almost the blink of an eye, the people of Nazareth make a 180 degree turn from people amazed by Jesus to people enraged by Jesus, so they drive him out of town, and lead him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff.  So Jesus finds himself suddenly very alone, surrounded by a teaming and steaming mob of his former friends and maybe even family.  Like Atticus Finch, who faced an angry all-white mob who come to lynch his black client, Jesus finds himself on the edge of a cliff facing two choices—jump or be pushed.

When Jesus told the truth, it put people on edge, and the result was their pushing him to the edge of his very life.  While Gregory Peck was preparing to receive his academy award for his portrayal of Atticus Finch, another man was preparing to mount a non-violent struggle against racial discrimination that would change this country forever, that man of course was Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  Like Jesus, Dr. King was driven to the edge of the cliff, and in his case sadly over, like so many others who have stood up for truth, justice, and the proclamation that God’s grace is for all people.  Yet in his sacrifice, thousands have found inspiration and courage to continue the good fight—not with guns and swords, but with love.

Despite the sacrifices that may be required, you and I too are called to boldly proclaim God’s love for all people without exception.  We do so, not fearful, but joyful because we have already seen the end of the movie.  Jesus’ story does not end with him falling off a cliff.  It ends with an empty tomb, does it not?  Jesus’ victory over the grave is the sure and certain promise that in the fullness of time God’s grace and love will and has triumphed over death and all that is evil.  So never fear, do not be afraid, step out boldly to love all the people you meet without exception—even if it takes great sacrifice.  Proclaim in word and deed God’s unconditional grace, mercy, and love for all people.  Amen.

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