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What was the spirituality of Jesus like? What animated his mission? And what would he think about us spending two months so far on the spirituality of immigration? Last week I briefly imagined what Jesus might have said to the prophet Nehemiah who responded to foreigners with threats, violence, and expulsion. This week, we won’t have to imagine, we need only watch Jesus and listen.
Because in his very first sermon, Jesus stands up in his hometown synagogue in Nazareth, and doesn’t just offer a devotional reflection. He doesn’t give a comforting word about God’s love in general. He hearkens back to Scripture, defines his mission, and then—almost immediately—reminds his neighbors that his ministry extends beyond Israelites and includes outsiders – non-Jews, pagans, foreigners. And how do people respond? They try to kill him.
That alone should give us pause, especially since the preacher today is well - me.
If Jesus’ very first sermon about love, justice, and foreigners, could provoke awe and attempted murder, then maybe we should stop assuming that faithfulness to Jesus’ mission will always feel safe, affirming, or polite.
1. The Spirituality of Jesus Is the Joy and Urgency of “Today”
After reading from Isaiah about the Spirit of the Lord, Jesus sits down. Every eye is fixed on him. And then he utters a single, earth-shattering sentence:
“Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.”
That word—today—is not incidental. In Luke’s Gospel, it’s a theological keyword. He uses it more than any other Gospel writer, and he places this scene at the very beginning of Jesus’ public ministry – a declaration of liberation for the poor and marginalized.
Not tomorrow.
Not someday.
Not after the right people are in power.
Not when the borders are secure.
Not when the economy is stable.
Today.
God’s promise is not deferred. God’s justice is not postponed. God’s mercy is not theoretical. The Spirit’s work is happening now, in real bodies, real communities, real conflicts.
Jesus will live this way of “today” consistently:
He prays, “Give us each day our daily bread.”
He teaches, “Do not worry about tomorrow.”
He announces, “Today salvation has come to this house.”
Jesus models a spirituality that is radically present. He notices the person in front of him. He responds to suffering as it appears. He trusts that God is active in real time.
And yet—if we’re honest—the church often reverses this.
Jesus says, “Today,” and we say, “Eventually.”
Jesus says, “Look—right now,” and we say, “Let’s wait and see.”
Jesus says, “God is liberating people on the earth today,” and we say, “The
good news is about getting to heaven when you die.”
A Jesus-animated spirituality of today refuses to spiritualize away suffering. It refuses to delay justice. It insists that God’s love must take flesh now—in policies, in neighborhoods, in how we treat the most vulnerable among us - today.
2. The Mission Jesus Announces Is Good News for the Marginalized—Here and Now
Jesus reads from Isaiah, but Luke is careful to preserve the wording of the Greek Scriptures—the Septuagint. And that matters.
“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 send the oppressed away in freedom,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
And behind this text is not only Isaiah 61, but also Isaiah 58:
“Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?”
This is not charity. This is not vague compassion. This is gospel justice.
In the Septuagint, “release” is the word used for the forgiveness of debts. “Freedom” is the language of emancipation. “The year of the Lord’s favor” echoes Jubilee (Lev. 25)—the restructuring of economic and social life so that no one is permanently excluded. Everything – money, oppression, bodies, is spiritual.
Jesus is not announcing a private spirituality of personal salvation. He is proclaiming the healing of the world. And notice who benefits first: the poor, the imprisoned, the blind, the oppressed.
Which means—by definition—those on the margins. Those without power. Those without legal protection. Those whose suffering is often justified or ignored.
If we translate that into our own moment, it includes people fleeing violence, families at borders, asylum seekers waiting for hearings, migrant workers whose labor is welcomed but whose lives are treated as disposable.
We live in a world where people drown at sea because no nation wants to claim responsibility. Where children languish in detention centers. Where fear of the foreigner is dressed up as realism, prudence, or even patriotism.
Jesus names all of that and says: This is what the Spirit has sent me to confront—today.
3. The Turning Point: When Welcome Extends to Outsiders
At first, the congregation loves this sermon. Luke tells us they “spoke well of him” and were amazed. Who doesn’t like good news—especially when it sounds like it’s for us? And it’s important to remember that the Jews were currently oppressed and their own country occupied.
But Jesus knows something. He knows that admiration can turn to rage the moment privilege is threatened. He knows that mercy can provoke anger when it moves from me to them. So he keeps preaching.
He names the unspoken assumption in the room: Do this for us NOT them. Heal us, please, but harm them. Bless us but curse them. Take care of our people first – only – primarily – exclusively.
And so he reminds them of two stories.
Elijah sent not to an Israelite widow, but to a
foreign woman in Zarephath.
Elisha healing not an Israelite, but Naaman—the general of an enemy army.
In both cases, God’s saving action bypasses the insiders and blesses outsiders.
Jesus is not rejecting Israel. He is reminding them of their calling given to Abraham long ago: through you, all nations will be blessed (Genesis 12:2-3, 22:18). You were never meant to hoard grace; you were meant to share it.
But here’s the hard truth: people often support justice until it costs them something. The moment Jesus suggests that God’s love is not controlled by national, ethnic, or religious boundaries, the mood shifts.
The crowd becomes furious. They drive him out of town. They try to throw him off a cliff.
Let that sink in. The first act of violence in Luke’s Gospel is not against a criminal. It is against a God-ordained preacher who insists that God loves foreigners.
Jesus suffers violence not for being too harsh. He is rejected for being too merciful.
4. Jesus’ Spirituality Includes the Liberation of Others, Even at Personal Cost
Jesus reveals that there is no such thing as liberation that stops with me. There is no salvation that ignores you. There is no faithfulness that refuses responsibility for “them.” He challenges the very “mercy me” theology expressed by Nehemiah last week. And this is precisely what provokes rage—then and now.
Anger often erupts when people are asked to give up the illusion of being first. When they are asked to share resources. When they are asked to see strangers not as threats, but as neighbors.
We see this pattern everywhere.
In political rhetoric that dehumanizes migrants.
In policies designed to deter suffering rather than relieve it.
In churches that speak warmly about love but go silent when that love demands
risk.
But Jesus does not retreat. He passes through the violence and keeps going.
And the rest of the Gospel shows us what this costs him.
He touches those others avoid.
He eats with the wrong people.
He crosses boundaries again and again.
And eventually, the violence that begins in Nazareth finds its way to
Jerusalem.
The cross is not an accident nor simply a God-ordained fate. It is the consequence of a life lived in radical welcome.
5. So the question becomes, “What Animates Us—Today?”
What animates us?
Fear—or trust?
Scarcity—or abundance?
Privilege—or solidarity?
Jesus says, Today.
Today God is at work among the poor. Today God is freeing the oppressed. Today
God is blessing people we might rather ignore.
The good news is not only that Jesus welcomes the stranger. It is that he invites us into that same vocation. Will join him today?
To be a people who rebuild ruined cities.
Who loosen the bonds of injustice.
Who offer not just sympathy, but solidarity.
Who let joy—not despair—fuel the work of justice.
This is hard work. It exposes our fears. It costs us something. And yes, it can provoke resistance—even from within the church. But it is the holy work of Jesus.
Because “this very day,” God is loving people we
have been taught to fear.
“This very day,” God is blessing those we might wish he wouldn’t.
“This very day,” Jesus stands among us and says:
This scripture of liberation is fulfilled in your hearing.
May we have the courage to follow Jesus.
May we have the faith to welcome the stranger.
And may we discover, even now, the joy of liberation—good news - for all. Amen.
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