An Inverted Messiah

You’ve all heard of “aversion therapy,” right? That’s where you train your dog not to leave your yard, or not dig, or not bark, with a collar that shocks the dog when it does run off, dig, or bark.

But have you ever heard of “inversion therapy”?

“Inversion therapy” helps alleviate back and neck pain by taking the usual gravitational press we live with and literally “standing it on its head.” One method is to strap your feet into boots and hang upside down like a big bat. Another method is to strap your whole body to a flat surface that then completely flips upside down, the body suspended head down, feet in the air.

Inversion advocates claim when you exercise while in this upside down position — in other words, when you do sit-ups or torso twists upside down — you are helping your squished, painful vertebrae to expand, realign, and even regenerate. Strengthened by exercise and set free from the constant compression of gravity, our sore backs, stiff necks, and arthritic hips can all relax and literally “take a load off.”

But when our perspective is turned upside down, it is not usually very comfortable. Things look different. Things feel different. Things work different. Things ARE different.

Turning things upside down, shaking up perspectives, shaking down assumptions, was Jesus’ specialty. Jesus taught “inversion therapy” from the moment he began to speak in public until his final breath on the cross.

The Jews were anxiously awaiting the Messiah. The hope was that this Messiah would be a divinely appointed, spiritually anointed deliverer for Israel. This longed-for Messiah would wield military might and political punch. He would bring in a “new Israel,” a new Zion that would be a re-birthed political nation. The messianic kingdom most Jews dreamed of wasn’t different from the old Israel, just bigger, better, tougher, invincible, and finally recognized as God’s holy nation by the rest of the riff-raff in the world.

When Jesus read from the Isaiah scroll at the Nazareth synagogue, the text he proclaimed stood those dreams of power and might on their head. Isaiah’s words proclaimed to the Jews that within their own community it would be “the poor,” “the blind,” and “the oppressed” who would be “released,” who would receive the focus of divine activity in the new messianic era.

It would not be the most obedient. Not the most devout. Not those who prayed most earnestly and fervently. Not those whose piety was unimpeachable. Not those whose learning was deep. Not those who were wise. Not those who were strong.

The “poor” meant all those with “poor status.” In the Mediterranean world the “poor” had bad genes. Bad reputations. Bad health. Bad histories. Bad credit scores. Bad clothing. Bad neighborhoods. Bad relatives. Bad habits. The “poor” were the riff-raff. The “poor” weren’t just fiscally bankrupt. They were spiritually bankrupt.

How could the Messiah be anointed and appointed for such as these?

Physical handicaps, infectious diseases, plagues, infirmities, and other deficiencies were all assumed to be a sign of divine judgment. If you were blind, sick, lame, or diseased you were assumed to be have done something to “deserve it.”

How could Jesus possibly imagine that the newest action of God would be directed towards these most obvious outcasts?

How could Jesus focus on all these “fringe-types” who would receive grace and healing and freedom?

How could Jesus forget to promise a divine smack-down for those who didn’t make the cut?

The messianic vision Jesus sketched out for his hometown audience wasn’t black and white. It wasn’t about good or bad, faithful or fallen, whole or broken. The message Jesus proclaimed was an “inversion therapy” that turned messianic expectations upside down.

So who is the Messiah? Not a great military leader. Not a powerful king. Not a divinely-empowered conqueror. Not an angelically-accompanied Presence.

No, the Messiah, the appointed and anointed one, is just Jesus. You heard this right: just Jesus. Just Jesus is the one who claims “the Spirit of the Lord is upon me.” Just Jesus announces that God has “anointed me.” Just Jesus preaches the good news because God “has sent me.”

The Nazareth crowd is momentarily impressed with his first century text-messaging. But ultimately the Nazareth crowd cannot get over the fact that this speaker in their midst is “just Jesus.” Isn’t this “just Jesus” whom they have known since his childhood as “Joseph’s son” (v.22)?

Jesus’ very existence is upside/down, at least according to the established standards of the day. In ancient cultures, whether it be Greek, Roman, or Hebrew, there was a clear pecking order. Always, first and foremost, was the father. Whether this was Zeus, Jupiter, Yahweh, or the father within a family of nomadic sheep herders, the father was the undisputed head over all. Today we’d call him the “big boss with the hot sauce.”

A far distant second was the mother — although once any male child grew to adulthood, he stepped in front of her while walking.

Bringing up the rear, in last place, were children — powerless and without status. Daughters could only hope to someday be wives and mothers. Sons could only wait for the death of the reigning father so that they could step up.

Christianity turns all these traditions topsy-turvy and inside/out. Christianity mixes status and muddles social standing. For Jesus the order was children, mother, father. Look at the Christmas story: top billing goes to a child, then Mary, then Joseph.

Culturally it is just wrong. Divinely it is just right. For salvation it is Just Jesus.

Upside/down. Inside/out. Last things first. Weak is strong. This was Jesus’ identity. This was Jesus’ message.

A theology professor stood before his class with several items in front of him. When the class began, he picked up a very large and empty jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks, each about two inches in diameter. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was. So the professor then picked up a box of tiny pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course, rolled into the open areas between the rocks. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor then picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up the remaining empty spaces.

“Now,” said the professor, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The rocks are the important things: your family, your partner, your health, your children – things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. The pebbles are the other things that matter – like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else, the small stuff.

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “There is no room for the pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Turn your life upside down. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Put the rocks in first. Play with your children. Take your spouse out dancing. Invest in your church. Turn your life upside down. Take care of the rocks first, the things that really matter. The rest is just sand.”