The Park Road Pulpit

In the year 1555 the French-born Michel de Nostredame released a book entitled Centuries. The book of poetry and was cryptic in its prophecies, written in French with bits of Latin, Greek, and Italian thrown-in for good (and confusing) measure. Adding to the intrigue, proper nouns were often disguised by changing a few individual letters or scrambling them from their original. Centuries contained 942 poems, each one symbolically laden into four brief lines of verse.[1]

For the more than 500 hundred years since their first printing, these quatrains have been the subject of great interest and intense debate. They still are. I don’t read the tabloids, but I see his name frequently at the bookstands. “Nostradamis predicted…”

Did Nostradamis actually know the future? Could he see what we cannot? It is said that the Frenchman obscured his predictions so he could not be accused of being a “magician,” though the Roman Catholic papacy still banned his book in 1781. Was he a magician? A true prophet? Or was Nostradamis just a clever poet, writing in intentionally obscure language, so as one looked at his poetry in light of history, a wide variety of interpretations could be given?

One of his most famous “accurate” predictions concerned the death of Henry II, who was killed in 1559 in a jousting match with a younger competitor, the Comte de Montgomery. Both men wore lions on their shields, and in the final bout Montgomery’s lance shattered on the oncoming breastplate, sending two fatal splinters into the King’s gold-plated face visor. The rhyme is a bit spooky:

The young lion will overcome the older one,
On the field of combat in a single battle;
He will pierce his eyes through a golden cage,
Two wounds made one, then he dies a cruel death.[2]

The ancient work will be accomplished,
And from the roof evil ruin will fall on the great man:
They will accuse an innocent, being dead, of the deed:
The guilty one is hidden in the misty copse.[3]

I don’t believe Nostradamis knew who would kill John Kennedy, but today, I want you to know that I know the future. I need no Tarot cards. No crystal ball. No fancy, cryptic poetry. I don’t even need to see your palm. But, I know. And here’s my prediction…

I can see the look on their faces. There was pride among these common folk. This was “their boy.” Jesus. Joseph’s son. (Isn’t it a bit ironic that Luke keeps referring to him as Joseph’s son!?[4]) He was making a name for himself. Traveling the country. Some said he had a special gift. That he was filled with the spirit. That he did powerful deeds. Reports had made their way back to his hometown: Jesus was a healer. He could exorcise demons. And they had heard he was a powerful teacher. Now, he sat among them. His mother must have been there, and his father, too. Enjoying a day of rest, a break from the hard work of peasant life, keeping their faithful observance of the faith. And, beaming to their friends. Jesus was home.

He stood to read, choosing his own text. A room full of anxious eyes danced between Jesus and his humble parents. What would he say?

The spirit of the Lord is upon me… All in the room recognized the words of the Prophet Isaiah. There was nothing unusual to this point. God has anointed me to preach good news… to proclaim freedom and insight… to set at liberty… to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.

These words had been read and recited now for hundreds of years. The faithful had contented themselves with a lifetime of waiting. Of listening to beautiful but empty words. Words for some other day. Words for some other people. After so long, they didn’t really expect anything.[5] So it was, again, as Jesus read. If this had been a service at Greater Mt. Sinai Baptist Church, they congregation would have been right with him. “That’s right.” “One day, Jesus.” “Come on now.” “Some day.” “Wish I could see it, preacher.”

I like to think that Jesus had those penetrating eyes, eyes such that those who possess them need never raise their voice to get someone’s attention. And I believe that when Jesus said Today… his eyes filled the room, and the tension in that synagogue changed. The tension went from anxious excitement for Mary and Joseph, the lift of butterflies, right to the very pit of their stomachs. I like to think of Jesus’ voice as soothing, yet deliberate in pitch and tenor. And I believe that when Jesus said, “Today this scripture is fulfilled,” those well-known words took on a new, dangerous tone, which pulled down the corners of every mouth in the room.

I believe Jesus was the fulfillment of scripture. For in his life, the hope of God is revealed. And in his life, the very potential of humanity is made known. In him we see grace made perfect in weakness (2 Corinthians 12.9).[6]

But some didn’t see it in him. Many still don’t see it. And here is the key: Jesus is the fulfillment of scripture only if we see the future as Jesus saw the future. What was so disturbing about his reading of scripture is that, for Jesus, there was no future. There was only, ever, today. Religion needs a tomorrow (“tomorrow” explains why today isn’t what it should be, and seeks to content the people, especially the masses, that there is nothing we can do about that).[7] But faith always lives with the failures of yesterday and the hopes of tomorrow, as if today is the only day.

Our little children do not need to know, tomorrow, that mommy and daddy love them. Only today can teach them about love. They do not need to feel security, tomorrow. For they are vulnerable and helpless, today. They do not need to be properly fed and clothed tomorrow. For children of all ages are living and growing, or living and dying, today.

The world is filled with people who are going to live and learn and love, tomorrow. But, tomorrow never comes…

The people did not have trouble with Jesus saying, The Lord has anointed me… for they were listening with religious ears. And with religious ears, “The Lord has anointed me” always means, “God has called, or is calling, someone else…” (Not you, and certainly not me.) And with religious ears, “the acceptable year of the Lord…” is, just like the mantra of a bad football team, always next year.

But the people weren’t prepared for Jesus to say, “Today…” and for one simple reason. It wasn’t that their religious sensibilities were offended that a son of Joseph and Mary might claim to be the Messiah, but this… If Jesus were right, if this is the acceptable year of the Lord… then someone besides the Messiah is going to have to get busy![8]

If we are still waiting on Jesus to right every wrong, to end every social injustice, to bring down the mighty, to lift up the weak… then Jesus is not our Messiah.

But, if it is the love of Christ which urges us on to faithful service, today…

But, if it is the mind of Christ and his compassion which open our eyes to the prayers which we can answer…

But, if it is Jesus’ simple trust in the faithfulness of a gracious God that convinces us that we can make peace with today…

And if he is Messiah, then his anointing is our anointing. And today is still the day. And scripture will be fulfilled, again.

For God has anointed us to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty those who are oppressed, and to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.

[1] See: www.activemind.com/Mysterious/Topics/Nostradamus/quatrain.html and www.dreamscape.com/morgana/nospast.html.

[2] Century 1, Quatrain 35.

[3] Century 6, Quatrain 37.

[4] Alan Culpepper notes the irony here, that Luke, who has repeatedly called Jesus “Son of God,” is called “Son of Joseph” by the townspeople. (New Interpreter’s Bible, IX, p.107.) I think it not ironic, however, as the virgin birth narrative/understanding of Jesus’ lineage was not established until well after his death. I hear the reference to “Son of Joseph” as a reference to Jesus – the only way the people could have known him, as one of their own.

[5] I hope the hearer/reader catches my intended irony. We still don’t get it! The prophetic texts, such as Isaiah’s words, even the words of Jesus, are “accepted” by most believers, but are pushed either into the irretrievable past or the idealistic future. We still have difficulty accepting that this is the year of the Lord, or that Jesus might have actually meant for his followers to seek to live-out the claims of the Sermon on the Mount.

[6] Some would flinch at the suggestion that God’s power was made perfect in Christ’s “weakness.” For these, weakness is a character trait not allowed of the “Son of God.” (Any supposed “weakness” is only an example of the greatness of his “power,” that he could give up all divine power and assume our character. See Phillippians 2.5-11.) However, I find in the use of the word weakness, further affirmation of the central tenet of Christian faith, which we call “incarnation,” i.e., that God was, “made flesh” (John 1), in Jesus. In his full humanity (his “weakness”), the nature of God’s true “power” is revealed as self-sacrificing love.

[7] This is the “pie in the sky by and by” theology that I so oppose.

[8] This claim may be contrary to