THIRD SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR C

Sunday 23 January 2022

St. Uriel's, Sea Girt, N.J.

Luke 4:14-21

“Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Back in the 1950s, the linguistic philosopher John Austin coined the term “performative utterance” to designate a certain type of speech. At that time, the dominant philosophical school of logical positivism was maintaining that any meaningful human speech is purely descriptive, so that it either conforms to reality in a demonstrably verifiable way, in which case it’s true, or it does not, in which case it’s false. For example, the statement “John has three apples” is either true or false, depending on whether it accurately corresponds to the reality it purports to describe.

Against this idea, Austin’s contribution was to point out that certain types of speech are not merely descriptive but what he called performative: that is, they don’t merely describe existing realities; they actually bring new realities into being. Of course, we need to be careful. One sign of either delusional thinking or, worse, unscrupulous manipulation is the idea that merely saying something is enough to make it true. But still, there are some forms of speech where merely saying something really does make it true: “I christen this ship the Queen Elizabeth;” “This court is now in session;” “This meeting is now adjourned;” “I sentence you to three years in prison.” In these instances, the spoken words become deeds that create new situations, that bring new realities into being.

As Catholic Christians, we know all about performative speech.  We profess faith in a God whom the Bible describes as creating the world by speaking: “‘Let there be light.’ And there was light.” Jesus, the incarnate Word, performs many of his mighty works in the Gospels simply by speaking: “Your sins are forgiven.” “Rise, take up your pallet, and walk.” In the Church’s sacraments, the spoken word (combined with the corresponding prescribed actions) creates new spiritual realities and new worlds of meaning: “I baptize you in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” “This is my Body, which is given for you … This is my Blood, which is shed for you …” “I absolve you of all your sins.”

Today’s Gospel sets forth a wonderful example of performative utterance. Having returned to his hometown for the first time since his fame has begun to spread, Jesus is invited to read and comment on the Scriptures during worship in the synagogue. This privilege could be extended to any Jewish adult male, so it was fitting for the synagogue elders to honor Jesus in this way. The reader would first read the Torah passage appointed for the day, and then he’d read a second passage of his own choosing from the Prophets to complement the Torah reading. Finally, he’d offer a brief spoken commentary relating the two readings to each other and to the congregation’s life.

Luke doesn’t tell us what the appointed Torah passage was, but he does recount Jesus opening the scroll, and reading the verses from the Prophet Isaiah describing the servant of the Lord anointed by the Spirit to proclaim good news to the poor, release to the captives, sight to the blind, liberation to the oppressed, the year of the Lord’s favor. After Jesus hands the scroll back to the attendant, all fix their eyes upon him to hear what comment he will make. Assuming the posture of a teacher, he sits and announces to the congregation, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

The meaning is straightforward. Jesus is identifying himself as the Spirit-anointed one in Isaiah’s prophecy. In Hebrew, the word for “anointed one” is Messiah; in Greek it’s Christ. Jesus is none other than the Messiah or Christ of Jewish expectation. In Luke’s Greek, his words read literally, “Today, this Scripture has been fulfilled in your ears.” This dynamic interaction of speaking and hearing creates a whole new world of possibilities. He’s inviting the congregation to receive the forgiveness, healing, enlightenment, and liberation that he brings. Simultaneously, he’s calling them to join in proclaiming the good news of the year of the Lord’s favor so that they can in turn help convey this forgiveness, healing, enlightenment, and liberation to their neighbors and to the wider world.

Notice that his focus is on the present. God has done great things in the past, to be sure, and will do even greater things in the future, as the Scriptures attest throughout. But Our Lord’s emphasis in the synagogue of Nazareth is on what God is doing here and now, in this congregation’s very midst. “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” 

This interpretation of today’s Gospel has at least three implications for our life together as a parish community. 

First, we need to be mindful of the power of speech to build up or tear down. Negative talk, grumbling, and complaining are destructive and demoralizing. By contrast, positive talk, words of appreciation and blessing, are creative and life-giving. The point is that such speech is performative utterance; or, we might say, self-fulfilling prophecy: it helps bring into being the realities it purports to describe. Counselors and therapists often point out that in addition to identifying and naming what’s going wrong with our lives and relationships, it’s even more important to be able to identify and name what’s going well—for that gives us a positive foundation of hope to build on for the future. So, the practical question is how we can learn to accentuate the positive in ways that bring blessing to one another and our community.

Second, God wants us to focus on the present. In my time amongst you so far, I’ve periodically encountered some anxiety about the parish’s future, combined with what might be called nostalgia for a bygone golden age. From time to time, I still hear lamentations for the good old days, when the church was packed, for multiple services, and the Sunday school was thriving with dozens and dozens of children. But I think it’s safe to say that if Jesus were here, he would tell us to let go of both nostalgia for the past and anxiety for the future, and to concentrate instead on the opportunities he’s presenting us in the present. As Saint Paul puts it, “Behold, now is the acceptable time; behold, now is the day of salvation.”

And third, the most important question we can ever ask about our parish is not what we’re doing or failing to do, but rather what God is doing in our midst. This way of thinking is admittedly unfamiliar and perhaps a bit difficult, but it’s crucial. It requires prayer. It begins with identifying, proclaiming, and celebrating the ways in which God is blessing us here and now, today. How is God fulfilling the Scriptures in our hearing? For what do we want to give thanks to God in our life together? These are crucial questions to be asking ourselves as we prepare for our Annual Meeting, and beyond that, for calling and welcoming a new Rector.