This essay first appeared in our weekly Scripture reflection newsletter on January 25, 2025.
In today’s Gospel, in a story recounted in all the Synoptic Gospels, Jesus stands in the synagogue in Nazareth, before all those who know him, and proclaims his identity. In so many words, he declares himself to be the fulfillment of all the prophecies: He is the Messiah.
This week we read the beginning of the story, in which Jesus lays out what New Testament scholars call a “programmatic,” or general, outline of his coming ministry. Jesus will be a prophetic Messiah and describes what Luke Timothy Johnson in the Sacra Pagina commentary calls the “character” of his ministry, which is to “announce the good news to those who are poor, blind, in captivity and oppressed.”
So far, so good, the reader may think. But the next part of the story, which we don’t hear today, is the crowd’s reaction to what Jesus says. Initially, says Luke, the people of Nazareth praise the “gracious words that come from his mouth.” But then, Jesus tells them not to expect him to do the kind of miracles that they have heard he is doing elsewhere, specifically in Capernaum. Moreover, he points to the story of Elijah who, during a long drought, helped not a Jewish woman, but a widow in a town called Zarephath, outside Jewish territory. And, to underline the point further, Jesus reminds them that the prophet Elisha healed not a Jewish man but someone named Naaman, a Syrian, a Gentile.
In the past, I used to think that the people in his hometown, who he knew well, were simply angered by his arrogance. And perhaps they were. After all, in the Synoptic accounts, the people all say some variation of “Isn’t this the carpenter?” Or “Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?” In other words, “Who, him?” As such, this passage is often used to underline how we can sometimes overlook the presence of the divine even when it’s right in front of us.
And over the past few years, I’ve seen this story as a sign of Jesus’s willingness not to be liked, loved or approved of. Even though Jesus can intuit that the people of Nazareth will reject him—remember, he’s lived there for some 30 years and can predict their reaction—he says what he needs to say. It’s an invitation for all of us to let go of that need for approval.
But lately, I’ve understood this story in a different way. Notice what Jesus says about his upcoming ministry of liberation. Who will be freed? “The poor…the captives…the blind…the oppressed.” In the crowd’s rejection of him, then, you can sense not only the question of “Who, him?” but also “Who, them?” And, as if that isn’t challenging enough, Jesus is saying that his mission is to not just for the Jewish people, but everyone.
“That God’s visitation and salvation were to be for the poor and oppressed of all nations…arouses the neighbors’ wrath,” writes Luke Timothy Johnson. That is, the Messiah has come, but not for them alone.
The true leader, as Jesus shows over and over, is concerned not just with “us” but with those considered as “them.” That means everyone who is considered “other,” “different,” “strange,” “foreign,” even “unworthy.” Today that means the transgender person, the migrant and refugee, the person on death row, and on and on. Above all, the poor.
Everyone has their own list of who is “us” and “them.” The true leader, however not only includes “them” but advocates for them. Stands with them. Takes their side. Defends them against persecution. Jesus’ first words to his friends in Nazareth are not about how he will comfort them, but how his ministry is for all. So it incurs their wrath. As it does today. No matter. Jesus keeps on. And so should we.