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Last week when we read from Joel we heard of God pouring out God’s spirit upon sons and daughters to prophecy and visions and dreams given to the old and the young to slave and to free all people Would experience the spirit of God and the vision God has for the world.
Our reading for today is what that vision looks like lived out-lived out the brokenhearted will be healed, those captive will see freedom, those who mourn will be comforted. Lived out, that there is a turning over of the systems of the world in a way to make things right.
When Jesus began his earthly ministry he returned to this text as his manifesto of what was to come and of the world and the Kin-dom he was calling us to.
It’s lofty. It’s idealistic. It speaks of the year of the Lord’s favor which many have understood to be the year of jubilee, a Levitical law that every 50 years when debts would be forgiven, those enslaved for their debt would be released, land would be returned giving families an inheritance and a legacy for generations to come.
And, the jubilee year is that it never happened. It is very rare that the powerful of any era will set in motion an institutional program that will result in them having fewer laborers, reduced land, and less wealth.
I wonder if one of the reasons we’ve never seen jubilee year is because it says “the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the oppressed” and the brokenhearted, the captive, the mourner, those imprisoned and because at the beginning Jesus saying the same to very similar words that we don’t think the “me” in the verse is ever us.
And so we don’t envision that each of us is the me that the spirit of the Lord is upon, even as Joel had just told us it was everyone.
Then are the words “Good news.” If you have been around church for a while you may know gospel means good news. We call the biographies of Jesus gospels, the good news of the life, the death, and the resurrection of Jesus and then I think we think about that as if it’s the only good news. So those who are proclaimers of the good news must be us who study, who have been trained, who are able to defend what they believe.
But what if we have it wrong? Because Isaiah is not speaking of the gospel or the good news of Jesus; he doesn’t know Jesus and is still speaking of good news.
Greg Boyle was ordained, a Jesuit priest in 1984, In 1986. He was appointed pastor of Dolores Mission Church, the poorest Catholic Church in East Los Angeles, located between two large public housing projects and eight gangs. Between 1988 and 1998, close to a thousand people were killed per year in Los Angeles gang violence.
In 1988, Father Boyle with members of his community began a school, a daycare, and support for those seeking employment calling it Jobs for a Future. Over the years, the ministry expanded to Homeboy Bakery and now Homeboy Industries. Today, Homeboy Industries is the largest and most successful gang rehabilitation and recently incarcerated re-entry program in the world, offering case management, counseling classes, free tattoo removal, work readiness, legal assistance, and training-focused business. Every year, over 10,000 former gang members and previously incarcerated people come through the doors of Homeboy Industries. In May of this year, Father Boyle received the Presidential Medal of Freedom.
Those are the facts but Father Greg Boyle and Homeboy Industries is rooted in two truths: that everybody is inherently and unshakably good and that we belong to each other. We can do horrible and terrible things in response to our brokenness, our trauma, our unhealthiness, our wounds but that does not change the unshakable goodness in each person. Father Boyle believes, has seen, and experienced that if we can remind each other of our unshakable and inherent goodness, if someone can say that we, that they are unshakably good, it can build resilience and a muscular hope that can change everything.
Those 10,000 gang members and ex-incarcerated people who walk through their doors are invited to re-imagine their future with the truth of their unshakable goodness that maybe no one told them about before and that they belong to each other, they are connected to each other and can build community together in goodness and love.
And when we can hold that goodness when we can see each other, the stranger, the broken, the oppressed, the wounded, the captive, and the prisoner–we can see in each goodness, the unshakable goodness that God sees them with. We stand in the Gap between who they are and what they see, until they can see it for themselves.
They do not grow in goodness, but perhaps they can grow in love of themselves and each other and we can grow in love. Isn’t that the good news? Isn’t that the good news of the vision and the dreams that the spirit of God placed upon the young and the old sons and daughters slave and Free
Father Boyle was speaking at the LA Times Festival of Books about these things: the unshakable goodness and belonging to each other. He said to the crowd that he believes if we, everyone, could embrace these two truths, vexing and complex social dilemma would disappear. The crowd gathered before him laughed, as if you were just saying a thing, an ideal as if being grandiose
As if we could not have a jubilee year, and we can’t forgive debt, and incarceration must be punishment and not rehabilitation, as if people can’t be whole again by being reminded of their goodness.
It wasn’t hyperbole and it wasn’t grandiose statements. Father Boyle believes that this is good news that could transform the world. Everyone is unshakably good and we belong to each other.
We could call Father Boyle, now in his ’80s, a living Saint but that probably wouldn’t sit right with him, elevating him and his his work to a place or a level beyond which anyone else could do it. I imagine that when Father Boyle reads Isaiah 61, “the Spirit of the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news,” he reads it as himself as the “me,” and me and you, and every son and daughter. Those who are old and young and every age in between, those who are living in privilege, and those who are captive by the structures and institutions of this world. The Spirit of the Lord has anointed us.
One more story:
A monastery has fallen on hard times. It was once part of a great order which, as a result of religious persecution in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, lost all its branches. It was decimated to the extent that there were only five monks left in the mother house: the Abbot and four others, all of whom were over seventy. Clearly, it was a dying order
Deep in the woods surrounding the monastery was a little hut that the Rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. One day, it occurred to the Abbot to visit the hermitage to see if the Rabbi could offer any advice that might save the monster. The Rabbi welcomed the Abbot and commiserated. “I know how it is,” he said, “the spirit has gone out of people. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the old Rabbi and the old Abbot wept together, and they read parts of the Torah and spoke quietly of deep things.
The time came when the Abbot had to leave. They embraced, “It has been wonderful being with you,” said the Abbot, “but I have failed in my purpose for coming. Have you no piece of advice that might save the monastery? “No, I am sorry,” the Rabbi responded, “I have no advice to give you. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you.”
When the other monks heard the Rabbi’s words, they wondered what possible significance they might have. “The Messiah is one of us? One of us, here, at the monastery? Do you suppose he meant the Abbot? Of course–it must be the Abbot, who has been our leader for so long. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas, who is undoubtedly a holy man. Certainly, he couldn’t have meant Brother Elrod–he’s so crotchety. But then Elrod is very wise. Surely, he could not have meant Brother Phillip–he’s too passive. But then, magically, he’s always there when you need him. Of course, he didn’t mean me–yet supposing he did? Oh Lord, not me! I couldn’t mean that much to you could I?”
As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect, on the off chance that one of them might be the Messiah. And on the off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.
Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, people occasionally came to visit the monastery, to picnic or to wander along the old paths, most of which led to the dilapidated chapel. They sensed the aura of extraordinary respect that surrounded the five old monks, permeating the atmosphere. They began to come more frequently, bringing their friends, and their friends brought friends. Some of the younger men who came to visit began to engage in conversation with the monks. After a while, one asked if he might join. Then another, and another. Within a few years, the monastery became once again a thriving order, and–thanks to the Rabbi’s gift–a vibrant authentic community of light and love for the whole realm.
We can’t wait for someone else to stand up and read the words of Isaiah and claim the anointing for themselves as if they are the only “me” the spirit of the Lord has anointed me and you and you and you to proclaim good news to remind each other and everyone we meet of our unshakable goodness to belong to each other, be a presence to offer healing to liberate.
Advent is a time of waiting, waiting on Christmas Day, the incarnation, the enfleshment of God to earth, AND the return of Christ someday to set the world right. But we don’t wait passively. We don’t wait as if it is only Christ who can bring change. We don’t wait for Christ to proclaim the good news, for liberation and healing. We can’t wait for someone else to stand up and read the words of Isaiah and claim the anointed for themselves as if they are the only “me” the Spirit of the Lord has anointed. Because maybe you are the “me” you’ve been waiting for. The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, and you, and you, and you to proclaim the good news, to remind each other and everyone we meet, our neighbors near and far, of our, of their, unshakable goodness and that we belong to each other; to bring healing, liberation, community, justice, and love.