It was hard for me to wrap my head around. Barbecue had been served here for more than 100 years.
We went inside. As we perused the chalkboard offerings, I saw several combinations and plates, along with some sides. My guide explained—with some humor, but some true disdain as well—that all "this other stuff" was relatively new. None of “that” had been available when he first started coming here several decades back. We would be doing it the "old way." He might as well have said "the one right way."
I asked for “the full order” as he had advised. It was as he had predicted: heavenly.
During our lunch—surrounded by tables, chairs, floor and walls reflecting a century old legacy—I heard reminiscences of time gone by, the way things had been back in the day. The location, the food, and the way we ate the food—all contributed to my friend’s nostalgia. Clearly, there was a lot of love for the old days and the old ways.
Familiarity: the hooks on which we hang our memories. Not just the obvious food memories, but memories of people encountered, successes achieved, insights discovered. All of it tied to the "old way."
Something like this is in place in this week’s scriptures, particularly the Luke passage. Jesus, visiting his hometown, has gone to church. As was common on the Sabbath, he stands to read from a scroll. It’s a well known passage from Isaiah prophesying the coming of the Messiah. Then, he tells the congregation that the prophecy has been fulfilled that day, in their hearing.
By the time he finishes explaining what he means, they are furious.
They had fallen into the habit of longing. It was quite the abrupt disruption to have one of their own claim they no longer needed to wait, that the longing was over. Likely, they looked at him and recalled all sorts of memories from all the years they had been coming to that synagogue: weddings, deaths, newborns, children at shul, year after year of reading about the coming messiah. And here was Joe's boy, Mary's son, upending their world with his claim that said, as surely as if he had uttered the words, He was the messiah.
The old way was gone. The new way had come.
We have a lot more to go on than the folks in that synagogue on that Sabbath. But we can be just as resistant to change. Sure, we're not looking for the arrival of the messiah the way they were. Still, we must reorient, or we will never have the understanding of the message God is sending us. When Isaiah wrote that passage, it was a prophecy, something that would happen "someday." When Jesus read those words in his hometown synagogue, it was no longer a prophecy, no longer residing in some unknown future. He was describing himself to people who thought they knew him, but only really knew their memories of him.
It can be very hard to release the old way. We fear such changes. The old way holds our memories like a treasure box, and we fear we will lose them if we accept the new. Have no fear. That’s your longing talking. Yes, allowing ourselves to know the real Jesus could well mean we must let some things go. But not the things that truly matter.
We mustn’t let our old ways, comfortable as they are, keep us from receiving the message Jesus is sending us. It is, truly, good news.
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PHOTO (of the full order + a brief history of Jasper’s):
A little more history & photos of Jasper’s:
https://wacohistory.org/items/show/82
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At Lectionary Breakfast, we're making our way through the scriptures as we count the days until Easter and what that day means for all of us. Join us Friday mornings at 8:00 for some good food and some excellent fellowship. It's a happy hour at Our Breakfast Place (and on Zoom**) when we read, eat and laugh together.
Enjoy the week!
Steve
https://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/pdf//Cx_ThirdSundayafterEpiphany.pdf
Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10
Psalm 19
1 Corinthians 12:12-31a
Luke 4:14-21
Third Sunday after the Epiphany (January 23, 2022)
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