Today's Gospel delights me. Jesus goes to the synagogue, as usual, on the Sabbath. And he is the lector!
The very thought of God reading... reading written language, the brilliant invention of human minds. Well, one thing it makes me want to do is learn Hebrew, just so I can read the very same words that Jesus read that Sabbath in Nazareth when he looked up from the text and announced that those words, already so ancient and revered in his day, were fulfilled.
Even St. Therese wanted to learn Greek so she could read the New Testament without the intermediary of translation.
But as pleasant and pious a desire mine is, it is pretty superficial compared to what the Lord offers us in today's Gospel passage. He isn't merely suggesting that I find communion with him by learning to read the same language he read: he offers me profound communion with himself in the very fulfillment of the prophecy itself! He offers to let those Scriptures be fulfilled today, as he lives in me to "heal the broken-hearted; proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind...to announce a year of favor from the Lord."
And I don't even have to learn the Hebrew alphabet for that. (Although I still really would like to!)