Sermon Cloud

Branded by Compassion

Let us pray.  Oh God, may the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, oh Lord, our rock and our redeemer.  Amen.

Everyone knows how important first impressions are.  As the saying goes: you never get a second chance to make a first impression.  Consequently, we often do what we can to use this knowledge to our advantage.  We send resumes on special cream –colored paper, in the hopes that they will stand out of the crowd.  We may dress a little nicer—or just be on our best behavior, especially when we are trying to impress.  But, once we have established our initial impression, it is our reputation that helps in the ongoing process of showing the world who we are and what we are about.  In today’s gospel reading, we get a unique glimpse into both—the reputation of Jesus as well as a first impression of his ministry.  At the center of both (his reputation and first impression), we see that his mission, and ours—if we are to follow him, is one centered in the compassion and caring for those who are the most vulnerable and powerless in society.

About a year ago, the author Malcolm Gladwell released a book entitled “Blink”—that is about first impressions and that type of decision making we do in the ‘blink’ of an eye.  In his book he proposes that when we meet someone for the first time, or walk into a house we are thinking of buying, or read the first few sentences of a book, our minds take about two seconds (or less) to jump through a series of rapid conclusions.  While some may call this intuition, he never uses that word in the book—instead, he makes a strong case for thinking that is so rapid that it is almost considered “not thinking”. 

In the final chapter of his book, he tells a story about Abbie Conant, who was an aspiring professional trombonist in the early 80s.  While Ms. Conant had applied to eleven orchestras throughout Europe, she had received only one response—from the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra.  The letter inviting her to audition was addressed to Mr. Abbie Conant, but she went anyway.  During auditions, there were thirty-three candidates that took turns playing their selected pieces from behind a screen—which was only fair, considering one of the applicants was related to someone in the orchestra.  Conant was number sixteen.  After her performance of Ferdinand David’s Konzerinto for Trombone, which is the warhorse audition piece in Germany, the Philharmonic’s music director cried out “That’s who we want!”  The remaining seventeen players were sent home and someone went backstage to find Conant.  When Ms. Conant stepped out from behind the screen, the audience was aghast.  The trombone was considered a masculine instrument, and therefore the judges were expecting Mr. Conant, not Ms. Conant.  What ensued was a full fledged battle of wills—that lasted for thirteen years.  In the end, Ms Conant secured the first-trombone chair, and in the meantime, there was quite a revolution in the classical music scene.  Musicians today audition from behind the screen because it really is a better a better way to level the playing field, and disband many of those long held prejudices. 

I tell you this story because it illustrates how, if you let them, prejudices have a way of dehumanizing those who are created in the image of God.  If we were to continue reading from where our scripture text left off, we would be told that the lesson that Jesus gives is at first met with praise and astonishment…until someone points out that this prophetic voice is from Nazareth—Joseph’s son.  Consequently, Jesus is ridiculed and run out of town.  Perhaps the point is that when we are looking for the word of God, our ears are more finely tuned than our other senses.

With this in mind, let us turn to Luke’s gospel.  In it we hear about the reputation of Jesus before we read about the program he will promote.  All the commentaries agree that this is at the very beginning of his public ministry—and we know that (by this point) he has been baptized and has faithfully withstood temptation in the desert, but we do not yet know what his agenda will be.  Recall what the text says:  “Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding country.  He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone.” 

A report about him spread through all the surrounding country and he was praised by everyone.  Now keep in mind that this was over two thousand years ago, but ponder for a minute, how much this sounds like a modern marketing plan.  You know how the process works… take Ikia, or Starbucks, or Ebay, Krispy Kreme, or Blackberry, or whatever you may think the latest consumer craze may be.  Recall how these companies have grown by involving their customers in the brand—by relying on the most efficient advertising in the world—reputation and word of mouth.  I can recall how Starbucks coffee and Krispy Kreme Donuts were on everyone’s tongues long before they actually made it into my neighborhood.  By that time, there was such a build up—such hype, that I couldn’t resist the lure of the brand.  My friends were all talking about these modern marvels—or at least it seemed that way.  And I began to think that I could possibly be the last person on the planet to experience that legendary, warm, sugar glazed donut that has the ability to melt in the mouth.  I thought “Could I be the last person in the world to order a Venti half-caff mocha double whip with sprinkles?”  Modern advertising campaigns rely on such curiosity and attention.  The challenge for promoting the next big thing is not in placing an ad—but instead, lies in getting people talking about it, getting people excited about it, getting people to want to live the lifestyle associated with their brand of choice.  Brand loyalty is big business—built on the reputation of the company and the perceived experience associated with it.

Now imagine, if you will, the Galilean countryside, totally absent the neon signs and hovering billboards of today, yet, nonetheless all abuzz about this teacher who is filled with the power of the spirit.  Hey Mark, what exactly does that mean-- to be filled with the power of the spirit?  I don’t know, but I want to find out.  This Jesus guy is making quite a reputation for himself—I think he may be the next big thing.  Maybe we can borrow Dad’s donkey on Friday night and go listen to him teach.  I hear he is going to be in Nazareth on the Sabbath. 

So, unable to resist the word on the street, they come from far and wide, to see if this teacher will live up to the hype.  What will he say? What will he do?  How will his message be different from the normal rabbi’s?  What makes him different?  Special?

Luke, the gospel writer, answers these questions by describing the events at Nazareth—the first recorded public proclamation of Jesus.  Here is the one big chance to make a good first impression.  Someone in attendance might have said, “We have heard the claims—but if the real deal doesn’t live up to the attention it has been getting in the fields, and on the road, and around the dinner table—we will dismiss it as a fad that has already fizzled.”  So here is Jesus with one opportunity to impress us, to dazzle us, to draw us in, to sell us on this gospel message we have heard so much about, to make us loyal to his brand—and to the lifestyle that goes along with it.

 With the tension mounting, Luke tells about Jesus on that Sabbath.  He writes: He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written: "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." And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down.

These few verses are widely regarded as the central theme of Luke’s whole gospel account.  Within them, you can see a prophetic claim of messianic sovereignty and anointment as well as an outline for the divinely decreed liberation of the oppressed—which are two claims that compete for the attention of many theologians.  But, what I think that what we often fail to fully recognize in this passage is the ongoing concern and compassion that is being expressed.  Jesus is not just announcing some new program of salvation—but one of caring.  He is not just “tooting his own horn”, but instead, he is recalling the compassionate acts of God as they have been recorded in writings of the prophets.  In a way, he is saying: “Everything I am doing, and everything God is doing, and everything you should be doing—are acts (such as these) of compassion…especially to those who fail to impress us with their social status or with their measly means of making a living.”  It is in these acts of compassion that Jesus stakes his reputation—making them the mission statement of his organization.  In a way, Jesus is unveiling the old platform in a new way—saying that we are already familiar with this brand of doing God’s will. 

So, he has made the pitch—which is proclaiming God’s compassion, and then he sits down and begins to speak to the crowd like a rabbi normally would.  He says, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."  This is often interpreted as Jesus saying “so you see, I am the messiah—because I read the right text to you, and you all heard it.” but I think there is a little more to it than that.  Here the matter becomes one of deciding between “what is right” and “what is easy.”  On the one hand, (the “what is easy” hand) we can say that Jesus is making the unique claim to be the savior of all those less fortunate souls—and he will surely save them without our interference.  On the other hand, (the “what is right” hand) we are prompted to say that his words of compassion have called us into that same service—and we buy into that mission of compassion and caring—to the point where we believe in no other brands. 

If you can’t tell already, I like the metaphor of Christian compassion being sort of like a brand—but not just a retail brand like Coke, or Toyota—where you know what you are getting because of the reputation—but also like the “western” brand—you know, the one that leaves its mark.  I think I like that imagery because being branded by Christian compassion shows who we belong to—it imparts the label to us, much like baptism.

In fact, the 4^th century, patristic writer, Theodore of Antioch (Mopsuestia) wrote about our Christian practice of baptism by using the metaphor of branding, a term that would have been easily incorporated by the Christians of his day.  He writes, “The sign with which you are signed means that you have been stamped as a lamb of Christ and as a soldier of the heavenly king… A soldier who has enlisted for military service, ... is first stamped on his hand with a stamp which shows to which king he will henceforth offer his service; in this same way you also, who have been chosen for the Kingdom of Heaven, … are first stamped on your forehead, that part of your head which is higher than the rest of your body… and with which we usually draw near to one another and look at one another when we speak… You are stamped at that place so that you may be seen to possess great confidence.  We are rightly stamped in a place that is higher than our face, … so that we may be known to possess so much confidence with God that we look at Him with open face, and display before Him the stamp by which we are seen to be members of the household and soldiers of Christ our Lord.”

If these words of compassion directed toward the vulnerable and marginalized are to be our first impression of Christ’s call to arms (to carry on the military metaphor)—and if compassion is to be the brand that claims our service, then we, as baptized believers are charged with being leaders in caring for others.  At the very least, we should begin by praying for those who are outside of our normal circles—the enslaved, the systemic poor, those powerless to make changes in their lives—here we should include those in sweat-shops, those in war zones, and all of those who deal with unbalanced power systems.  But then, after prayer, we should look back to our leader for the next step—always confidant that the coming commands will be characterized by care and compassion: the hallmarks and power of the spirit of Christ.  This may mean we need to look out for the little guy more often, or find new ways to serve in the community, or just remember that we have all been created in the image of God.  And finally, being branded by compassion means that we should always be searching for ways to live into our baptisms—by embracing that community called the body of Christ, by finding opportunities to teach the stories of our faith to our youth—or to be taught the stories of our faith by our elders.  In other words, we should be constantly on the lookout for ways to practice our unique Christian brand—that of care for others.

Before we go, I would like to leave you with some homework.  It is the same vein of the story I told about the trombonist behind the screen.  Imagine, if you will, what it would be like if we practiced looking at the world through the screen of the word of God—or more specifically, explore what it would be like if we were to look at the world through the screen of Christ—with compassion coloring all of our senses.   For then, we too will be empowered with the spirit and faithfulness that are the exclusive claims of the children of God—which are claims of compassion and identity, that not only make sense to our minds—but are claims that are written on our very hearts.  For such possibilities we say, thanks be to God. Amen.