Christ's Radical Inclusion

Thoughts on Christ's Treatment of the "Other."

In the immediate wake of the 2024 election, I was hit with a visceral sense of disunity, disjointedness, and disconnection in my personal, local, state, and national communities. It occurred to me that however the election had played out, a great number of my fellow citizens would have much grief, anger, and frustration stirred up from their emotional silt, turning their inner worlds into tumultuous, murky waters that, for many, would eventually erupt into their environment.

This is not necessarily wrong or bad. Emotion can be great motivation for change, given we are not harming others along the way. I'm simply observing the broad scope and shocking strength of the emotional wave that inevitably crosses this land every four years.

While sitting with my feelings and giving them their due space, I was also compelled to spend time with something that transcends this bipartisan strife while remaining connected to humanity. For me, one profound place I find this is in the recorded life of Jesus of Nazareth. Regardless of what faith you place (or don’t place) in him as the Messiah, I hope you can at least recognize him as a remarkable individual whose life has had a profound impact on this world.

Note, the last thing I want to do is politicize Jesus. I personally find this impossible to do legitimately and feel it is rather arrogant to even attempt it.

I also want to avoid the implication that Jesus makes the presidential office obsolete. To some degree, it matters who is the president. I believe Jesus himself would agree with that.

On the search for something transcendent, I reopened my favorite gospel, Luke, and only made it four chapters before discovering an incredible plot line that I’d never noticed before.

The story opens with Luke’s rendition of the Christmas story which includes Mary, her cousin Elizabeth, Elizabeth’s prenatal son, and Elizabeth’s husband, the prophet Zechariah, all rejoicing with anticipation for this miraculous baby.

Eventually, Jesus is born and the excitement continues in the voices of both celestial angels and lowly shepherds. A month goes by and the firstborn Jesus, in accordance with Jewish customs, is brought to the temple in Jerusalem to be designated as holy to YHWH. While there, the family meets two of the community’s elders, Simeon and the prophetess Anna, who proclaim the legendary status of this infant.

Twelve years pass and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph make their annual trip from Nazareth to Jerusalem for the Passover festival. The celebration wraps up and the family rejoins their traveling caravan to return home. But panic sets in when, after a day on the road, Mary and Joseph realize their son isn’t with their family and friends like they assumed.

Hurriedly, they return to the capital and spend THREE DAYS searching for Jesus. Eventually, they discover him in the same temple he was dedicated in. Only, now, he’s engaging with Israel’s teachers in a discussion well beyond the suspected capability of a twelve-year-old. And everyone is astonished.

This part of the story ends with a confirmation of what I assume most readers would conclude: Jesus is gaining favor.

The years go by and favor continues to be gained, namely in Galilee and Capernaum. Jesus’s teaching and works cause his reputation to spread like wildfire and, unlike what he’ll come to experience for the remainder of his life, everyone adores him.

On his tour, Jesus returns to his hometown, Nazareth. Here, we get the sense that as he walks into the synagogue on the Sabbath, he is welcomed with open and eager arms. They happily hand him a scroll of their scriptures and he stands to read. I imagine hearts beating fast, inevitable grins beaming, and postures leaning forward.

Jesus, the celebrity rabbi, quotes the prophet Isaiah from centuries before:

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has jointed 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 set free those who are oppressed, to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor.”

Then he rolls up the scroll, hands it back to the attendant, and sits down. The first century equivalent of a mic drop.

The gospel itself tells of the room’s pregnant pause.

Then Jesus breaks the anxious silence. “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” he says, making himself the object of the passage’s description.

One raised on gospel stories might think this is the part where the crowd turns against him as he hints at his divine status, but it’s not. Israel is quite familiar with prophets and it’s not surprising that another has shown up; seemingly one following in the great Isaiah’s footsteps.

It’s the same boy the elders proclaimed at his dedication.

The same boy that held his own in profound religious discussion with the temple’s rabbi’s.

All spoke well of [Jesus] and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is this not Joseph’s son?”

We sense a murmur of excitement and pride for the hometown hero. The son of Joseph.

I’m from Maine. We don’t produce a lot of celebrities. So we Mainers tend to take pride in Stephen King, the world-renowned horror author, as “one of us.” There's a sense of communal claim. "Look what one of us is capable of!"

I feel the same atmosphere at this point in the story.

But Jesus isn't done.

His tone shifts with an ominous foreshadowing, "no prophet is accepted in his home town."

I imagine the murmur changing. "Wait, isn't this his hometown? Isn't he a prophet? What's he on about?"

If you're unfamiliar, Jews (Jesus's audience in this scene), believe they are God's chosen people. The entirety of their history and scriptures (the Christian's Old Testament) is packed with this belief. It shapes their identity and worldview at a deep, deep level.

As such, there's a strong sense of "us" versus "them." Especially since Israel has a long history of being persecuted and oppressed. At this point in time "them" (non-Jews) are known as Gentiles.

This legendary Jesus was here to bring good news to Israel's poor; release its captives; give sight to their blind; and set free their oppressed.

"That's great for us, why wouldn't we accept him?" they wonder.

Jesus takes them back to two other great prophets on par with Isaiah: Elijah and Elisha.

He reminds his captive audience of when their ancestors suffered a great famine. While Jews starved across their nation, the chosen Elijah was sent by God to help a Gentile widow in Sidon.

And when a sickness spread across the land, plaguing man, woman, and child. Israel's God recruited Elisha to cure a lone Syrian. Another Gentile.

Jesus isn't making up these stories. He's recalling them. They exist in the same scrolls he read from just moments before that earned him high praise.

It might be tough for us to piece this mini-sermon together today, but it seems like it clicked immediately for those in this Nazarene synagogue.

Jesus is saying that God isn't just showing up for the Jew. God's showing up for everyone. Roman. Greek. Barbarian. Slave. Free. Foreigners. Nationals. Criminals. Kings.

Ironically, (and a blog post for another day), these folk often receive Jesus's good news more readily than Jesus's own people.

God is showing up for the "other."

And Nazareth's pride and joy, their hometown hero, is saying so.

When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage.

‭‭

The crowd turns on a dime. How dare he. How dare he forsake his upbringing. We raised him here in Nazareth and he betrays us in this way?

God would never. Jesus is an imposter. A traitor. Kill him.

They got up, drove [Jesus] out of [his hometown], and led him to the brow of the hill on which it was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

‭‭According to Luke, this is the first time Jesus's unique worldview, Christ's radical inclusion, puts him at risk.

This radical inclusion turned loyal fans into enraged, fearful murderers on a beat.

Remember, I was searching for something that might break up my bipartisan sorrow. And I felt it working as this story played out.

But also, I'm not politicizing Jesus of Nazareth here. I just simply can't help but notice his awareness of and tenderness toward the "other."

Should I choose to follow his example, I must take opportunities to be present, patient, and gracious with the "others" around me.

Those on the other side of the political aisle.

...from other cultures.

...other economic classes.

...other ethnicities.

...other religions.

...other sexualities.

...other gender identity.

...other legal status.

Through this, may there be both literal and proverbial freedom for the captive and oppressed. Jesus sacrificed his reputation and safety to share this message. Clearly it’s one worthwhile. But this story also points to how resistant human nature can be to the inclusion of others.

But, as I'm reminded by my more politically active friends, mere presence with the downtrodden will not repair what is systemically broken. May our voices and actions also step into spaces of influence.

This story of Jesus reminds me that people are far more than their tribe and inherently deserve to be treated as such.

This also makes me not much fun at sports games... the other team has feelings too. :3

SUBSCRIBE

---

Disclaimer:

These thoughts are presented with curiosity, wonder, and a sense of discovery.

There is so much scholarly material around religion, history, sociology, and psychology (realms I spend much of my time in). While that is immensely valuable and should be consulted when lives are at stake, I'd never produce anything if I required myself to scour these depths before voicing my thoughts which I believe to contain value and worth.

As such, it would not surprise me if my conclusions change in the future. And I hope it doesn't surprise you. That change of mind could come tomorrow, or it could come years from now. Curiosity isn't concrete. Trying to make it so robs it of its strength and beauty. As you read, I hope you will remember this - on my behalf and on yours.