Jesus pulls a serious Houdini move at the end of our gospel story. We’ve watched the tension rise throughout this scene, as he makes his dramatic announcement in his hometown synagogue, which is met with amazement that soon turns to rage as his neighbors take offense at what he says next. This rage turns the crowd into a rampaging mob, ready to kill:
When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.
We must be missing part of the story – it's hard to imagine how they got that mad that quickly, but ugly things happen when strong emotions sweep a crowd. Jesus had so flipped their expectations, so badly disappointed and insulted them, that they went berserk. And it can be an unfortunate human tendency to try to expel that which threatens your sense of security. Hence the push to the cliff’s edge.
But somehow Jesus is immune to their evil intent, and impervious to their gang attack. He simply passes through their midst and goes on his way. Did they stop looking at him, caught up in their frenzy? Or did he somehow make himself invisible, or dematerialize the way he seemed to do a few times after his resurrection? We are not told.
This curious scene does suggest to me a way to pray about situations of mass rage, whether in a real-life mob or a media attack: to remember that Jesus is there, unseen, unnoticed, but present. We can pray his presence into those situations, pray that those who have eyes and ears will perceive him. We can ask him to protect the vulnerable. We can ask him to release peace into conflict and turmoil.
The incarnate Jesus was just passing through this world, but he transformed every situation he encountered, even his own suffering and death. The risen and ascended Jesus is still transforming situations, even among people calling for his blood, or that of his followers. But now he can be everywhere we call upon his name in faith.
We need only invoke his name and by faith release his power and love, and see what changes. They may never know he was there, but something will have changed.
1-28-16 - Hell Hath No Fury
We’ve seen them too often, the images of religious people screaming, ranting, protesting, attacking, their faces contorted, eyes bulging, fists raised. And here is just such a scene near the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry, in the synagogue in his hometown, after he tells the people he’s not likely to be doing any miracles there.
When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. (This Sunday's gospel reading is here.)
An over-reaction, perhaps? Or did they feel he had blasphemed, claiming to be the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy? Or offensive, reminding them of times when God’s favor had rested upon outsiders rather than the people of Israel? We don’t know exactly what so infuriated them, but it surely had something to do with their expectations being dashed. I dare say that when people’s religious hopes and expectations are not met, they experience a more profound let-down than when facing other disappointments.
Why else would our congregations so often be the ground for such conflict? Because people bring to faith communities unspoken, unnamed, often unconscious expectations of finding the perfect family, the one in which you are perfectly seen and accepted and affirmed, and all your needs are met. God's supposed to do that for us. And when that doesn’t happen, people often get angry, and that anger can be directed at clergy, at fellow-congregants, at others who share the building. At its heart, though, it's an anger that God has disappointed us.
Jesus’ fellow townsfolk just acted out more clearly and obviously the rage many feel toward a God who allows suffering to go on, evil to flourish, peace to fail. We want God’s miracles, damn it! As well we should. I believe God wants us to pray for God’s power to be unleashed.
We just need to pray and release. Pray with fervor and realize there are many factors involved in how the answers to our prayers will be manifest. I do not believe God will undercut his gift of free will. Humans are free to choose their course, and that inevitably inhibits the realization of God's will. We might say the miracles are when we are enabled to choose the good, choose against our own self-interest. That’s how God’s power to transform gets worked out.
Let’s not judge those rage-filled congregants of Nazareth; at some time or other many of us might have been in their shoes. We can only wish they could have seen past their own desire and expectations to discern the Holy One in their midst. But he was too familiar; they couldn’t see him as God. Let’s not make that mistake.
When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. (This Sunday's gospel reading is here.)
An over-reaction, perhaps? Or did they feel he had blasphemed, claiming to be the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy? Or offensive, reminding them of times when God’s favor had rested upon outsiders rather than the people of Israel? We don’t know exactly what so infuriated them, but it surely had something to do with their expectations being dashed. I dare say that when people’s religious hopes and expectations are not met, they experience a more profound let-down than when facing other disappointments.
Why else would our congregations so often be the ground for such conflict? Because people bring to faith communities unspoken, unnamed, often unconscious expectations of finding the perfect family, the one in which you are perfectly seen and accepted and affirmed, and all your needs are met. God's supposed to do that for us. And when that doesn’t happen, people often get angry, and that anger can be directed at clergy, at fellow-congregants, at others who share the building. At its heart, though, it's an anger that God has disappointed us.
Jesus’ fellow townsfolk just acted out more clearly and obviously the rage many feel toward a God who allows suffering to go on, evil to flourish, peace to fail. We want God’s miracles, damn it! As well we should. I believe God wants us to pray for God’s power to be unleashed.
We just need to pray and release. Pray with fervor and realize there are many factors involved in how the answers to our prayers will be manifest. I do not believe God will undercut his gift of free will. Humans are free to choose their course, and that inevitably inhibits the realization of God's will. We might say the miracles are when we are enabled to choose the good, choose against our own self-interest. That’s how God’s power to transform gets worked out.
Let’s not judge those rage-filled congregants of Nazareth; at some time or other many of us might have been in their shoes. We can only wish they could have seen past their own desire and expectations to discern the Holy One in their midst. But he was too familiar; they couldn’t see him as God. Let’s not make that mistake.
1-27-16 - Unpredictable God
If prayer were never answered in ways we can discern, chances are we’d be okay with it, though we might stop praying. What is challenging, often maddening and sometimes heart-breaking is that sometimes it seems God answers in ways we want, and sometimes it seems that God does not. It’s the unpredictability more than the disappointments that inhibit our faith, I think.
The people of Nazareth, having heard reports of the wonders Jesus was doing, expected that he would do the same and more in his hometown. But he says it’s not that predictable:
And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown. But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.”
This sent them into a murderous rage. Was Jesus saying God is capricious? That God cares more for Gentiles than for the chosen people? Why was only one widow helped during the three-and-a-half year famine? Why only one foreign leper healed? Does God only intervene when there’s a larger purpose? Why does God interact at all with God’s creation?
If I knew the answers to that, I’d be much holier (or maybe richer…) than I am now. Why God seems to respond in some cases and not in others continues to perplex us. And none of us has a very full data set from which to draw conclusions. We have some stories in the bible, we have some experiences of our own or other people, but no one knows what God’s record is. We only know that when we pray, sometimes remarkable things happen, and sometimes they do not.
When remarkable things result, and we feel they’re connected to our prayer, we should give thanks and tell people about it. It helps increase our faith and builds that of others. And when it seems we have no response, or not the one we want, we should also talk about that – talk to God about it, and other people, because that’s one definition of faith: to believe despite evidence to the contrary.
I’ve said it before, and need to hear it often: the purpose of prayer is not to ask for things and see what we get. The purpose of prayer is to communicate openly with the God who made us and loves us and knows us better than we can know ourselves, and through that communicating to come to know God more fully. And God has invited us to allow God’s Spirit to pray through us; then we're praying for what God already intends to accomplish.
I have a feeling God’s prayers have a 100% response rate. Let’s figure out how to join ours to God’s. It's as simple as "Come, Holy Spirit..."
The people of Nazareth, having heard reports of the wonders Jesus was doing, expected that he would do the same and more in his hometown. But he says it’s not that predictable:
And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown. But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.”
This sent them into a murderous rage. Was Jesus saying God is capricious? That God cares more for Gentiles than for the chosen people? Why was only one widow helped during the three-and-a-half year famine? Why only one foreign leper healed? Does God only intervene when there’s a larger purpose? Why does God interact at all with God’s creation?
If I knew the answers to that, I’d be much holier (or maybe richer…) than I am now. Why God seems to respond in some cases and not in others continues to perplex us. And none of us has a very full data set from which to draw conclusions. We have some stories in the bible, we have some experiences of our own or other people, but no one knows what God’s record is. We only know that when we pray, sometimes remarkable things happen, and sometimes they do not.
When remarkable things result, and we feel they’re connected to our prayer, we should give thanks and tell people about it. It helps increase our faith and builds that of others. And when it seems we have no response, or not the one we want, we should also talk about that – talk to God about it, and other people, because that’s one definition of faith: to believe despite evidence to the contrary.
I’ve said it before, and need to hear it often: the purpose of prayer is not to ask for things and see what we get. The purpose of prayer is to communicate openly with the God who made us and loves us and knows us better than we can know ourselves, and through that communicating to come to know God more fully. And God has invited us to allow God’s Spirit to pray through us; then we're praying for what God already intends to accomplish.
I have a feeling God’s prayers have a 100% response rate. Let’s figure out how to join ours to God’s. It's as simple as "Come, Holy Spirit..."
1-26-16 - Connections
I always feel a little more powerful when I meet someone who can help hook me up to things I need or people I should know. (Actually, I like best being that person for others…) Connections are how we get ahead. So imagine how excited Jesus’ neighbors in Nazareth were when their "homie" became a religious sensation, known not only for his wisdom but for his amazing miracles and works of power. This was the ultimate connection, someone who channeled the power of God! And he was one of them!
Then imagine their disappointment when he indicated he was unlikely to exercise much power in his own town: He said to them, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown."
(This Sunday's gospel reading is here.)
He cited a few examples of prophets of old who were unable to address the needs of their own communities, only helping outsiders. And boy, they did not want to hear that. In fact, their response was quite violent, probably more intense than if a stranger had said he couldn’t help them. No one expects too much from a stranger. But one of your own? You should be his first priority. How dare Jesus say he was not accepted there, that his powers would be somehow inhibited?
I find in their angry response an invitation for us to examine our own hearts when it comes to Jesus. I dare say anyone who has ever prayed fervently for something has experienced some disappointment in the outcome. If that disappointment is acute, or experienced too often, we can find ourselves angry. And since the church does not offer many outlets for expressing negative emotions about God, that anger can become pushed down and calcify into a polite estrangement. We don’t try to push Jesus off a cliff, but we stop trusting or asking or hanging out with him.
If this has been your experience (and I’m in the midst of discovering I’ve been having a bout of it…), it’s so good to recognize that, and begin to process it in prayer, and maybe in pastoral conversation. Not for nothing is the rite of repentance in our tradition called “Reconciliation.” The greatest damage done when we turn away from God is to that relationship itself.
I believe that God is always, like the father in Jesus’ story about the prodigal son, out there in the road waiting for us to return. Can we walk back to that place, walk back through the hurt we encountered, the anger we experienced, the loss we suffered? Is our relationship with God worth it to us?
We don’t need to seek out connections; we are already hooked into the most powerful network in the universe, the power and love that flow from the throne of God. If that connection needs strengthening, let’s put our time and energy into repairing that breach. The arms of love await us.
Then imagine their disappointment when he indicated he was unlikely to exercise much power in his own town: He said to them, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown."
(This Sunday's gospel reading is here.)
He cited a few examples of prophets of old who were unable to address the needs of their own communities, only helping outsiders. And boy, they did not want to hear that. In fact, their response was quite violent, probably more intense than if a stranger had said he couldn’t help them. No one expects too much from a stranger. But one of your own? You should be his first priority. How dare Jesus say he was not accepted there, that his powers would be somehow inhibited?
I find in their angry response an invitation for us to examine our own hearts when it comes to Jesus. I dare say anyone who has ever prayed fervently for something has experienced some disappointment in the outcome. If that disappointment is acute, or experienced too often, we can find ourselves angry. And since the church does not offer many outlets for expressing negative emotions about God, that anger can become pushed down and calcify into a polite estrangement. We don’t try to push Jesus off a cliff, but we stop trusting or asking or hanging out with him.
If this has been your experience (and I’m in the midst of discovering I’ve been having a bout of it…), it’s so good to recognize that, and begin to process it in prayer, and maybe in pastoral conversation. Not for nothing is the rite of repentance in our tradition called “Reconciliation.” The greatest damage done when we turn away from God is to that relationship itself.
I believe that God is always, like the father in Jesus’ story about the prodigal son, out there in the road waiting for us to return. Can we walk back to that place, walk back through the hurt we encountered, the anger we experienced, the loss we suffered? Is our relationship with God worth it to us?
We don’t need to seek out connections; we are already hooked into the most powerful network in the universe, the power and love that flow from the throne of God. If that connection needs strengthening, let’s put our time and energy into repairing that breach. The arms of love await us.
1-25-16 - Hometown Hero
I had a friend who grew up in Springfield, Missouri and went to high school with Brad Pitt. I’m sure it’s a huge deal whenever he comes back to visit family. “We know this guy!” people think. “He’s one of ours.”
Everybody grows up somewhere, goes to school, plays sports, makes friends – and enemies. For Jesus, that somewhere was Nazareth, after he and his family returned from exile in Egypt. And his townspeople were pretty sure they knew him. Even as he manifested a very different skill set than the one needed for carpentry, and as his fame grew, they were pretty sure they knew him.
All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” (This Sunday's Gospel passage is here.)
Joseph’s son was how they knew him. Joseph’s son was predictable. But this man had another father, and that paternity was now being revealed. “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” reflects Jesus owning his divine identity, his messianic mission. That life would not prove so predictable.
Do we ever feel proud of Jesus? Do we feel we know him? It can be hard to feel gratitude or pride when we’re just so used to him being around. Those who have grown up in the church have heard about this guy our whole lives. We know his life story, his teachings, his miracles. He’s a stained glass window in the background. How can he surprise us now?
My approach is this: I always go back to the beginning. As many glimpses as I may have caught of Jesus over the years, I know I don’t have a clue. So I pray, “Let me know you, as you know me.” Occasionally I get words in my mind which I feel are him speaking; they reveal a little. I ask him for inspiration in ministry, and sometimes am flooded with ideas. That shows me a little about who he is. Prayer, ministry, worship – these are some of the best ways we have of getting to know Jesus. What's your strategy?
This Jesus, who lives in us and through us and around us, is not completely knowable in this life, and yet is much more than a cardboard saint. “For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened,” he promised (Luke 11:10). As we seek him, we find him, and he isn’t anything like what we expected.
Everybody grows up somewhere, goes to school, plays sports, makes friends – and enemies. For Jesus, that somewhere was Nazareth, after he and his family returned from exile in Egypt. And his townspeople were pretty sure they knew him. Even as he manifested a very different skill set than the one needed for carpentry, and as his fame grew, they were pretty sure they knew him.
All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” (This Sunday's Gospel passage is here.)
Joseph’s son was how they knew him. Joseph’s son was predictable. But this man had another father, and that paternity was now being revealed. “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing” reflects Jesus owning his divine identity, his messianic mission. That life would not prove so predictable.
Do we ever feel proud of Jesus? Do we feel we know him? It can be hard to feel gratitude or pride when we’re just so used to him being around. Those who have grown up in the church have heard about this guy our whole lives. We know his life story, his teachings, his miracles. He’s a stained glass window in the background. How can he surprise us now?
My approach is this: I always go back to the beginning. As many glimpses as I may have caught of Jesus over the years, I know I don’t have a clue. So I pray, “Let me know you, as you know me.” Occasionally I get words in my mind which I feel are him speaking; they reveal a little. I ask him for inspiration in ministry, and sometimes am flooded with ideas. That shows me a little about who he is. Prayer, ministry, worship – these are some of the best ways we have of getting to know Jesus. What's your strategy?
This Jesus, who lives in us and through us and around us, is not completely knowable in this life, and yet is much more than a cardboard saint. “For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened,” he promised (Luke 11:10). As we seek him, we find him, and he isn’t anything like what we expected.
1-22-16 - Already Fulfilled
Many people have trouble understanding what they read in the Bible. Scholars have developed many lenses through which to approach the task of interpretation: who the writer or writers were; the people to whom they were writing; their historical and/or theological concerns and emphases; what was going on in the time and place in which the writing originated; the literary style used, and others. And there are other layers, such as the concerns of the communities who collected these writings and included them in the canon of scripture; the angle taken by translators – it never ends.
And the “meaning” we draw out can vary according to the society in which the scripture is being read, its assumptions and preoccupations. We read passages on slavery or the role of women very differently than communities did one hundred or thousand years ago, or even today in other parts of the world. We we don’t have those writers in front of us to ask them, “What did you mean by this?” We have to guess, using clues from history and theology, geography and archaeology, similar literature, and tradition.
Among the most difficult parts of the bible to comprehend are the writings attributed to the prophets. Some of these are very specific, dealing with historical events that have clearly come and gone – or have they? Others seem more cosmic and apocalyptic, dealing with the end of time and final judgment – or do they? There’s a lot of “eye of the beholder” in what we perceive when reading the prophets.
So imagine how shocking it must have been in the synagogue in Nazareth that day, when Jesus finished reading this part of Isaiah’s prophecy, sat down to comment on it, and said simply, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’ A more definitive interpretation could not be. “This is what this meant, and now that I’m here, it has been fulfilled. No more waiting.” Did they find that good news?
How do we hear these words? As Good News, that redemption has been proclaimed, and secured in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ? I hope so. And let's go deeper than the face value of these words, to the simple “Today this has been fulfilled.” That “Today” encompasses every day, the eternal present in which God lives and works. I dare say all of God’s promises have been fulfilled today, because they have been fulfilled in Christ, and their power is available to us through his Holy Spirit.
It requires faith to proclaim, in the face of injustice, that the promise of justice has been fulfilled; to believe, in the face of brutality, that evil has been vanquished; to claim, in the face of hunger, that enough has been provided; to declare, in the face of death, that life is ours forever. Yet that is what it means to live by faith – to live in the “already” future life of God that is all around us, and becomes more accessible the more we believe and proclaim it.
Today these promises have been fulfilled in our hearing. In one sense, that is the “correct” interpretation of any piece of Scripture. The promises of God are already revealed. It is up to us to help make them fully known.
And the “meaning” we draw out can vary according to the society in which the scripture is being read, its assumptions and preoccupations. We read passages on slavery or the role of women very differently than communities did one hundred or thousand years ago, or even today in other parts of the world. We we don’t have those writers in front of us to ask them, “What did you mean by this?” We have to guess, using clues from history and theology, geography and archaeology, similar literature, and tradition.
Among the most difficult parts of the bible to comprehend are the writings attributed to the prophets. Some of these are very specific, dealing with historical events that have clearly come and gone – or have they? Others seem more cosmic and apocalyptic, dealing with the end of time and final judgment – or do they? There’s a lot of “eye of the beholder” in what we perceive when reading the prophets.
So imagine how shocking it must have been in the synagogue in Nazareth that day, when Jesus finished reading this part of Isaiah’s prophecy, sat down to comment on it, and said simply, ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’ A more definitive interpretation could not be. “This is what this meant, and now that I’m here, it has been fulfilled. No more waiting.” Did they find that good news?
How do we hear these words? As Good News, that redemption has been proclaimed, and secured in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ? I hope so. And let's go deeper than the face value of these words, to the simple “Today this has been fulfilled.” That “Today” encompasses every day, the eternal present in which God lives and works. I dare say all of God’s promises have been fulfilled today, because they have been fulfilled in Christ, and their power is available to us through his Holy Spirit.
It requires faith to proclaim, in the face of injustice, that the promise of justice has been fulfilled; to believe, in the face of brutality, that evil has been vanquished; to claim, in the face of hunger, that enough has been provided; to declare, in the face of death, that life is ours forever. Yet that is what it means to live by faith – to live in the “already” future life of God that is all around us, and becomes more accessible the more we believe and proclaim it.
Today these promises have been fulfilled in our hearing. In one sense, that is the “correct” interpretation of any piece of Scripture. The promises of God are already revealed. It is up to us to help make them fully known.
1-21-16 - Hearing the Word
At Bible Study this week, I was reminded of why we need to hear the Word of God and not just read it. Different voices bring out different aspects of the text, lending it color and nuance and, yes, texture. The practice of reading Scripture in the assembly of the faithful goes back thousands of years – it was already a feature of weekly worship when Jesus began his ministry. In fact, he was a lector:
When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him.
We’ll leave for another day the shock of what he did after he read; today, let’s just focus on the act of reading scripture aloud. Hearing the Word read is yet one more way the Gift of God is mediated through human beings, which happens at each stage of scripture’s development. People were inspired by God, told and retold, shaped and reshaped stories about their encounters with God, wrote down those stories and received teachings, collected and shaped those writings, and translated those collections. Countless human beings were involved in each of those stages, which makes the Bible a rich tapestry of ideas and enthusiasms – and probably distortions as well.
And each time we hear a passage of Scripture read, it is mediated through the thinking and voice of another person, giving it new life and possibly new interpretations. Just try reading a passage, emphasizing the verbs and then read it again emphasizing the pronouns. You’ll get two very different readings. And the Word of God comes through differently when we hear it rather than just reading it for ourselves. I often recommend that people read it aloud even when alone, just to hear the cadence of the words, the way the ideas go together or seem to clash, the wit and wisdom that are often to be found just below the surface. Just as can happen when we read poetry aloud, we often find scripture easier to understand when we hear it.
I once knew someone who likened the ministry of reading Scripture in church to being an aqueduct – a vessel carrying the Living Water to the people. I like to tell lectors to read it as if they're reading a story at bedtime. That day in the synagogue, Jesus was the Living Water. We get to carry him as we read his stories to each other.
When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him.
We’ll leave for another day the shock of what he did after he read; today, let’s just focus on the act of reading scripture aloud. Hearing the Word read is yet one more way the Gift of God is mediated through human beings, which happens at each stage of scripture’s development. People were inspired by God, told and retold, shaped and reshaped stories about their encounters with God, wrote down those stories and received teachings, collected and shaped those writings, and translated those collections. Countless human beings were involved in each of those stages, which makes the Bible a rich tapestry of ideas and enthusiasms – and probably distortions as well.
And each time we hear a passage of Scripture read, it is mediated through the thinking and voice of another person, giving it new life and possibly new interpretations. Just try reading a passage, emphasizing the verbs and then read it again emphasizing the pronouns. You’ll get two very different readings. And the Word of God comes through differently when we hear it rather than just reading it for ourselves. I often recommend that people read it aloud even when alone, just to hear the cadence of the words, the way the ideas go together or seem to clash, the wit and wisdom that are often to be found just below the surface. Just as can happen when we read poetry aloud, we often find scripture easier to understand when we hear it.
I once knew someone who likened the ministry of reading Scripture in church to being an aqueduct – a vessel carrying the Living Water to the people. I like to tell lectors to read it as if they're reading a story at bedtime. That day in the synagogue, Jesus was the Living Water. We get to carry him as we read his stories to each other.
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