Gospel of Jesus Christ according to Saint Luke

Luke 4:16–21

¹⁶Having come to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he entered the synagogue on the Sabbath day, according to his custom, and stood up to read. ¹⁷He was given the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, and unrolling it, he found the place where it was written: ¹⁸«The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor, and he has sent me to heal the brokenhearted.”, ¹⁹to proclaim freedom for the captives and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."» ²⁰Having rolled up the book, he returned it to the attendant and sat down, and all in the synagogue had their eyes fixed on him. ²¹Then he began to tell them, «Today your ears have heard the fulfillment of this passage of Scripture.»

At that time, Jesus came to Nazareth, where he had grown up. As was his custom, he went into the synagogue on the Sabbath day and stood up to read. The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. He unrolled it and found the place where it was written: «The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed 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 let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.» Then Jesus rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of everyone in the synagogue were fixed on him. He began by saying to them, «Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.»

Today this saying is fulfilled: Jesus, the Lord's Anointed, inaugurates the Kingdom

When Luke 4:16-21 reveals the profound identity of Christ and transforms the way we live the Gospel every day

There are scenes in the Gospel that resemble quiet earthquakes. Jesus enters the synagogue in Nazareth, opens a scroll of Isaiah, reads a few lines—and closes the book. Then he says a sentence that changes everything: «"Today this transition is accomplished."» In a few words, he identifies himself as the Messiah awaited for centuries, the Anointed One of the Spirit, the one sent to the poor and the captives. This article is for anyone seeking to understand not only what Jesus announced that day, but what it means for us, here and now.

We will begin by placing this scene in its literary and historical context, to appreciate the significance of this Nazarene moment. We will then analyze the rhetorical structure of the passage and the meaning of each gesture. Three thematic axes will unfold: the anointing of the Spirit as the foundation of the mission, the Good News to the poor as the heart of the messianic program, and the Lucan "today" as a unique theological key. We will draw concrete implications for Christian life, before grounding the whole in the great patristic and spiritual tradition, and offering a prayer of contemplation and commitment.

The text and its world: Nazareth, the synagogue, and the scroll of Isaiah

To truly enter into Luke 4:16-21, one must first allow oneself to be transported to that Galilean village, to that stone synagogue, on a Sabbath morning, somewhere at the beginning of Jesus' public ministry. Luke carefully placed this scene at the opening of the entire Galilean ministry, immediately after the account of the temptations in the desert (Luke 4:1-13). This is no coincidence: where Jesus resisted the temptation to define his mission according to worldly criteria—bread, power, spectacle—he will now define it according to the criteria of the Spirit.

Nazareth was a town without any particular prestige in the Judaism of that time. No major rabbinical school was established there. It was a craftsman's village, a place where everyone knew each other. Luke explains: «"where he had been raised"». This detail is not insignificant. It situates Jesus within a specific human community, a personal history, familiar faces. He is not speaking from an ivory tower. He is speaking from within a shared life.

First-century synagogue practice included a reading from the Torah (the parashah) and a reading of the Prophets (the haftarah), followed by a homily. Luke says that Jesus «"gets up to read"» — which implies that he is invited to read, a customary gesture offered to men known in the community. He is «"Hand over the book of the prophet Isaiah"». Some exegetes, such as Joseph Fitzmyer, emphasize that the text implies an active selection on the part of Jesus: he «"found the passage"», suggesting that he deliberately seeks out and chooses this text from Isaiah 61:1-2.

The passage he reads is itself composite in its textual tradition. The Lucan version mixes Isaiah 61:1-2 and a verse from Isaiah 58:6 («"to set the oppressed free"»This editorial freedom—or this liturgical reading already established in certain Jewish communities—is not insignificant: it indicates that the evangelist (or Jesus himself, if one follows the scene literally) is composing a program, an intentional synthesis. It is not a mechanical reading. It is a manifesto.

Isaiah 61 belongs to Deutero-Isaiah or Trito-Isaiah (chapters 56-66), a section of the great book that addresses a community wounded by exile, awaiting a return, liberation, and restoration. mévaśśer — the bearer of good news — is a central figure in this prophetic collection. By taking up this text, Jesus is not simply quoting an ancient prophet. He identifies with the character in the text. He says: It is I, the bearer of good news.

The structure of a revelation: gestures, silence and speech

The passage in Luke 4:16-21 is a small marvel of narrative composition. Let's look at it more closely, because every detail carries meaning.

First, there is a sequence of perfectly ordered ritual gestures: Jesus enters, he stands up, he receives the scroll, he opens it, he reads, he closes it, he returns the book, he sits down. This choreography is not arbitrary. In synagogue liturgy, one stands to read and sits to teach. The fact that Jesus sits down after the reading signals that something more important than the reading itself will follow. It is the gesture of the master, of the didaskalos.

Then comes a moment of silence, which Luc captures with almost cinematic precision: «"Everyone in the synagogue had their eyes fixed on him."» The Greek verb used here, atenizō (ἀτενίζω) refers to an intense, focused, almost hypnotic gaze. It is not ordinary curiosity. It is the attention of people who sense that a decisive moment is unfolding.

And then, the words. A single sentence, but explosively dense: «Today this passage of Scripture that you have just heard is fulfilled.» In Greek: Sēmeron peplērōtai hē graphē haute in tois ōsin hymōn. Three words encapsulate the entire theological weight: semeron (Today), peplērōtai (is accomplished, in the perfect tense — it is done, and the effects last), and graphē (Scripture). It is not "one day will be fulfilled." It is not "was fulfilled long ago." It is Today. Now. Here. In front of you.

From the perspective of narrative rhetoric, Luke constructs here what specialists call a programmatic scene An opening scene that announces and condenses everything that follows. What Jesus will do throughout his ministry—healing, liberating, proclaiming, including the excluded—is already foreshadowed here, in this text from Isaiah that he claims as his own. It's as if Luke were opening his Gospel not with a summary but with a musical score: all the themes that will be developed are already present, in this synagogue of Nazareth.

The Christological implications are immediate and radical. Jesus does not say: «"This text concerns me in part."» He said: «"This text is being fulfilled."» The verb plēroō is the verb of messianic fulfillment par excellence in the Gospels. What the prophets foretold finds its culmination here. Jesus is not an interpreter of the promise: he is its fulfillment.

The anointing of the Spirit, the foundation of a mission

«"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me."» This first line of Isaiah's text is theologically breathtaking. It links the Spirit, the anointing, and the mission in a single sentence. Let's take the time to unravel each of these threads.

The anointing — in Hebrew māšaḥ, where does the word come from Messiah, and in Greek chriō, where does the word come from Christ In the Hebrew Bible, anointing is the act that establishes and consecrates. Kings are anointed (David is anointed by Samuel in 1 Samuel 16), as are priests (Exodus 29:7), and sometimes prophets (1 Kings 19:16 for Elisha). The anointed one is the one who has received a specific mission, who has been set apart, separated, for a service. It is not simply a ceremony. It is a transformation of status, a surrender of oneself to a role.

However, in the text of Isaiah 61, it is not a human ceremony that confers this anointing: it is the Spirit of the Lord himself. The anointing is direct, immediate, divine. It transcends the threefold royal-priestly-prophetic function, unifying them in a single figure. Jesus, by appropriating this text, presents himself as the one who receives the anointing of the Spirit in its fullness, recapitulating within himself all previous forms of anointing.

Luke carefully prepares for this moment. At the baptism in the Jordan (Lk 3:21-22), the Spirit descends upon Jesus in bodily form, like a dove, and the voice of the Father proclaims: «You are my beloved Son; in you I am well pleased.» Jesus then goes into the desert «"filled with the Holy Spirit"» (Luke 4:1). And that is «"with the power of the Spirit"» (Lk 4, 14) that he returns to Galilee. The scene in Nazareth is therefore the culmination of this movement: Jesus, anointed at the Jordan, tested in the desert, returns strong in the Spirit, and publicly declares who he is.

For us, readers and believers, Luke's emphasis on the Spirit as the foundation of mission has immediate implications. Every authentic mission, every evangelical service, does not originate in human talent, institutional organization, or even goodwill. It originates in the anointing of the Spirit. What grounds Jesus' mission also grounds the mission of the Church, and the mission of every baptized person—for baptism and confirmation are precisely, in the Christian tradition, an anointing of the Spirit that configures us to Christ.

Therein lies a truth that is both liberating and demanding. Liberating, because it says: you are not alone in what you do in the name of the Gospel. The Spirit precedes, accompanies, and sustains. Demanding, because it requires us to remain attentive to this inspiration, not to replace it with agitation or willpower.

The Good News to the poor, the heart of the messianic program

«"He sent me to bring Good News to the poor."» This line is often quoted. It is less often pondered in all its depth.

Let's start with the word ptōchos (πτωχός), which is translated as "poor." In Greek, it designates the radically poor, the one reduced to begging, the one whose vulnerability is total. It is not the simple penēs, The worker on the brink of subsistence. This is the one who no longer has any resources of their own. In the Lucan context, the ptōchoi They are both materially poor and socially marginalized—the sick, fishermen, tax collectors, women without status, foreigners. Luke has a particular sensitivity to this segment of humanity: his Gospel is one of the Beatitudes addressed to them. poor (Lk 6:20, without the Matthean nuance in spirit), marginalized people whom Jesus touches, calls, invites to his table.

There euangelion — the Good News — is a loaded term in the Greco-Roman world. It signifies the announcement of a military victory, the accession of a new emperor, an event that changes the world order. By adopting it, Jesus (and Luke after him) makes a powerful political statement: there is a new Lord, a new world order, and it begins with the least among us, with those whom the old order had ignored or crushed.

What follows is a list that can be read as an elaboration of what this Good News means for specific categories of people: captives regain their freedom, the blind receive their sight, the oppressed are set free. There is a classic exegetical debate here: should these expressions be read literally (liberation of actual prisoners, physical healing of the blind) or spiritually (deliverance from sin, enlightenment of the soul)? The most accurate answer is: both, and neither without the other.

Jesus will indeed heal the blind and free those possessed by demons. But his Good News is also an announcement of inner liberation, of reconciliation with God, of the restoration of dignity. Christian tradition has sometimes tended to spiritualize excessively, forgetting the embodied dimension. Other currents have sought to reduce everything to the social and the political, forgetting the spiritual depth. Luke—and Jesus in this text—holds both together, inseparably.

The mention of «"the favorable year granted by the Lord"» is a direct allusion to jubilee, This extraordinary institution of Leviticus (Lev 25) provides for the remission of debts, the liberation of slaves, and the return of lands to their original owners every fifty years. The jubilee is a divine attempt to periodically correct the structural inequalities of society. In mentioning it here, Jesus is not promising an economic jubilee in the strict sense. He is announcing something more radical: the opening of a messianic age, a perpetual jubilee, a logic of grace and restoration inscribed at the very heart of his ministry.

Luke's "today," the key to a theology of time

Of all the words in Luke 4:16-21, perhaps the most explosive is the smallest: semeron — Today. This small temporal adverb is a theological key of primary importance in the Gospel of Luke.

We find it at strategic moments. At the birth of Jesus, the angel said to the shepherds: «Today in the city of David a Savior has been born to you.» (Luke 2:11). At the conversion of Zacchaeus: «"Today, salvation has entered this house."» (Luke 19:9). On the cross, addressed to the good thief: «"Today, you will be with me in paradise."» (Luke 23:43). This Today Lucan is not simply a chronological marker. It is a theological signal: the time of grace is now. Salvation is not a distant promise, suspended in an indefinite future. It bursts forth in the present, in the concrete reality of this day, this encounter, this word.

Theologians have called this the Naherwartung Inverted eschatology, or more simply, eschatology fulfilled: what was to come is already here, in Jesus. God's future has entered the present of human history. This is precisely what Lucan Christology seeks to convey through these semeron repeated.

For a reader today, this has immediate practical implications. It's not about waiting for a salvation that might come someday in an abstract future life. It's about recognizing that the Kingdom of God is already at work, that grace is active now, that conversion is possible now, that liberation—both inner and outer—begins now. Jesus doesn't offer a deferred program. He offers immediate transformation, rooted in the present moment of encountering him.

This Today It is also an invitation to move beyond nostalgia and inaction. Two very human, very religious temptations: to regret a golden past where faith was "purer," or to wait for a bright future without engaging with the present.«Today The man from Nazareth cuts them both short. He says: God's action is here, now. What will you do with it?

From Nazareth to our everyday lives

It would be a shame to confine this text to the realm of biblical scholarship alone. It is meant to transform lives. Here is how this program from Nazareth can be applied to our concrete spheres of existence.

In personal and spiritual life, The first application is that of identity. Jesus, in reading this text, clearly states who he is. We are often tempted to seek our identity in our achievements, our relationships, our social reputation. Meditating on this text invites us to return to the source: my Christian identity is founded on baptismal anointing, on the Spirit received, on a call received from God. This does not eliminate doubts, but it offers an anchor that the world cannot give or take away.

The second personal application concerns inner poverty. The poor to whom the Good News is proclaimed are also the poor regions of our own hearts: the areas of shame, failure, and hurt that we dare not show. Jesus' program begins there, within each person. The Good News must first be heard by that "poor" that each of us carries within.

In community and church life, This text is a pastoral program. A Church that adopts this text necessarily asks itself: where are the poor in our territory? Who are the captives—those who live in dependencies, situations of control, invisible poverty? Who are the blind—those who have not yet heard the Gospel, or who have heard it but never in a living way? Who are the oppressed—those whom social and sometimes even ecclesiastical structures themselves crush? This text is a collective examination of conscience.

In social and professional life, The announcement of the Jubilee Year has an undeniable social significance. Working for fairer working conditions, engaging in structures that defend human dignity, rejecting exclusionary practices in one's professional environment – all of this can be experienced as a modest and concrete participation in the messianic program of Nazareth.

In the contemplative life, Finally, this text invites us to listen more deeply to the Spirit. If Jesus' mission is founded on the anointing of the Spirit, so is ours. This requires silence, prayer, and times when we cease to produce in order to simply receive. Christian mission is not primarily an activity; it is a response to an anointing received.

Echoes in tradition: from the Church Fathers to medieval mystics

This text is not only rich in itself. It has been inhabited, meditated upon, and commented upon by twenty centuries of Christian tradition, and these commentaries enrich our reading.

Origin (3rd century), in its Homilies on Luke, He emphasizes the universal dimension of the mission described: the poor, the captives, and the blind are not merely social categories, but universal spiritual conditions. Every human soul, before encountering Christ, is in a form of captivity and blindness. The Gospel is therefore a proclamation of liberation addressed to all humanity, without exception.

Saint Ambrose of Milan (4th century), a bishop in a large Roman city confronted with the glaring economic inequalities of the late Empire, read this text as a direct social appeal. In his From Nabuth, He denounces the accumulation of wealth and reminds us that the Christian vocation includes a commitment to the truly poor. For him, the anointing of the Spirit that Jesus receives is also poured out on the Church and every Christian, creating a shared responsibility towards the most vulnerable.

Saint Cyril of Alexandria (5th century), in his Comment on Luc, He magnificently develops the Christology of this pericope. He sees in the anointing of the Spirit the manifestation of the hypostatic union: the eternal Son of God, by taking on human nature, pours out upon this humanity the Spirit that belongs to him from all eternity. It is not that Jesus has need to be anointed — he is the Lord of the Spirit — but by receiving the anointing in his human nature, he opens the way for all men to receive the same Spirit.

Bernard of Clairvaux (12th century) meditates extensively on the anointing and the Spirit in his Sermons on the Song of Songs. He develops a theology of anointing as God's tenderness, as the inner gentleness that the Spirit pours into the soul. Anointing is not primarily a sign of power; it is a sign of love, an infusion of grace that softens and transforms. For Bernard, reading Luke 4 invites us to desire this inner anointing, to allow ourselves to be touched by the gentleness of the Spirit.

Thomas Aquinas (13th century) in the Summa Theologica (III, q. 45, a. 4) carefully articulates the relationship between Christ's baptismal anointing in the Jordan, his declaration in Nazareth, and our own participation in this anointing through the sacraments. He develops the idea that Christ, as Head of the Body which is the Church, pours out upon its members the anointing of the Spirit which he has received in its fullness. Our Christian life is a progressive participation in this fullness.

Closer to home, Cardinal Congar in his monumental work on the Holy Spirit (I believe in the Holy Spirit, (1979-1980) reminds us that Western Christianity has often "forgotten" the Holy Spirit, being too focused on Christology and institutional ecclesiology. The Nazareth text is a necessary corrective: it places the Spirit at the heart of the mission, not as an added dimension but as the source and driving force of everything.

Lectio divina

Meditation track

Here is a concrete suggestion for personally inhabiting this text, inspired by the lectio divina and adapted to everyday life.

First step: slow reading (5-10 minutes). Read Luke 4:16-21 silently, very slowly. Don't try to understand everything at once. Let the words resonate with you. Which word or phrase catches your eye? Pause on it.

Second step: the identification question (5 minutes). Which character in the text do I identify with today? Am I in the synagogue, my eyes fixed on Jesus, waiting? Am I on the side of the poor, the captives, the blind—in which area of my life? Or perhaps I am called to bring the Good News to someone today?

Third step: the’Today staff (5 minutes). Repeat the sentence: «"Today this transition is accomplished."» Letting it sink into the heart. What does that mean for Me, Today, In my specific situation, what does Jesus want to liberate, heal, and open up in my life? NOW ?

Fourth step: concrete commitment (5 minutes). From this meditation, formulate a single concrete action for the day or week: a gesture towards a "poor" person in my circle, a word of freedom to speak, a space of silence to create for the Spirit. Just one, but real.

Fifth step: Thanksgiving. Conclude by thanking the Lord that the Spirit is at work now, in this life. Not tomorrow. Today.

This meditation can be done alone or in a group. In a community setting, it can be extended by sharing what each person has received in step three, thus creating a true liturgy of the shared Word.

When the Gospel of Nazareth meets our world

This magnificent text also encounters resistance and raises real questions in our contemporary context. It would be dishonest to ignore it.

First challenge: ideological co-optation. This text has been used, particularly within the Latin American liberation theology movements of the 1970s and 80s, as the foundation for a revolutionary political program. While commitment to the poor is undeniably central to the Gospel, the risk is reducing Jesus to a social revolutionary, thereby neglecting the supernatural and soteriological dimensions of his mission. Conversely, some conservative circles have excessively spiritualized this text to avoid its social implications. The correct response is the one defended by serious exegesis: Jesus proclaims a complete liberation, encompassing body and soul, the individual and society, the temporal and the eternal. To choose one over the other is a betrayal of the text.

Second challenge: disappointing expectations. Jesus announces a magnificent program in Nazareth—and the immediate aftermath of chapter 4 shows that his fellow citizens quickly go from admiration to attempting to throw him off a cliff (Lk 4:28-30). There is a painful human dynamic at play here: we love beautiful promises, but we resist what they entail for us. The proclamation of freedom is threatening to those who have structured their lives around some form of captivity. This resistance is also within us. It calls for humility and perseverance.

Third challenge: the gap between promise and reality. If Jesus inaugurated this program in Nazareth, why are there still so many poor, captive, blind, and oppressed people in the world? This question is legitimate and painful. The classic theological answer articulates two moments: the already here and the Not yet of the Kingdom. The Reign of God is inaugurated in Jesus, but not yet accomplished in its eschatological fullness. Between these two poles, the Church is called to be a sign and instrument of this Reign, knowing that its completion is beyond its capacity. This does not justify inaction—on the contrary, it calls for a tenacious and humble commitment—but it protects us from utopianism which, disappointed by not achieving everything, ultimately leads to abandonment.

Fourth challenge: the question of religious monopoly. Jesus in Nazareth recites a Jewish text within a Jewish context and appropriates it exclusively. For some of our contemporaries, this claim to unique fulfillment seems intolerant, incompatible with ecumenical and interreligious sensibilities. The response is not to dilute the Christological claim, but to understand that Jesus' affirmation is not accompanied by any contempt for the heritage of Israel—quite the contrary, it takes it so seriously that it claims to fulfill it. And this mission of fulfillment is expressed not through domination but through service to the poor and oppressed.

Prayer: anointing, sending forth, and praise

Lord Jesus, Anointed of the Father and Giver of the Spirit, Here we are today in this synagogue, which each reading of your Word rebuilds for us. With eyes raised to you, like those inhabitants of Nazareth, We can still hear you saying: "Today this passage is fulfilled."«

Today. Not yesterday in the nostalgia for an older and simpler faith. Not tomorrow, while waiting for a grace we have not yet deserved. Today, in this life that we bring you, with its poverty, its captivity, its blindness.

We entrust to you the poor regions of our hearts: the areas of shame that we dare not show to anyone, the habits that bind us despite our resolutions, the fears that blind us to you and to others, the burdens that weigh on our shoulders and on our communities.

Anointed of the Spirit, come and anoint also what we are. Pour out upon our lives the same anointing that you have received, not for our glory, but for the service of those you love: the poor people we live alongside without seeing them, the captives that our societies forget, the blind whom the Good News has not yet reached, the oppressed whom our sometimes complicit silences keep in their darkness.

Lord, send us as you were sent. Not with the means of the world's power, but with the gentle and invincible power of the Spirit. Make us bearers of the Good News: in the doctor's office, in the classroom, in the workshop, in the family kitchen, in the corridors of institutions and in the streets of the outskirts.

Where hope has been absent, let us carry it. Where freedom is denied, let us be its architects. Where sight is obscured by lies or injury, May our words and our lives be light.

Glory and praise to you, Lord Jesus, Anointed of the Father, sent by the Spirit, Savior of the poor. Today and every day, until the Kingdom comes in its fullness.

Amen.

From the synagogue of Nazareth to the heart of our time

Jesus opened a scroll of parchment in a provincial synagogue, read a few lines, and spoke a sentence. This scene probably lasted less than five minutes. And yet, twenty centuries later, it continues to resonate in the memory of the Church and in the hearts of those who approach it with faith.

What Nazareth reveals is the profound identity of Jesus: he is the Anointed One of the Spirit, the awaited Messiah, the one in whom the promises of Isaiah find their flesh and their face. What Nazareth offers is a program for life: to be bearers of Good News to the poor, builders of freedom for the captives, light for the blind, justice for the oppressed. What Nazareth offers is time: today. Not deferred grace, but present, active grace, offered now.

The call is simple to make, demanding to live. It doesn't require grand gestures, but a conversion of perspective: seeing the poor around us, hearing the captives our societies have rendered invisible, letting the Spirit open our eyes to the realities we prefer to ignore. And then acting, humbly, faithfully, knowing that the Spirit who rested on Jesus in Nazareth is the same Spirit given to us at baptism.

This Scripture is still being fulfilled today. In our lives. If we so choose.

Practices

• Take 10 minutes each morning to read Luke 4:16-21 and formulate a concrete Gospel action for the day.
• Identify a "poor area" in your own life and entrust it to the Holy Spirit in daily prayer.
• Look for someone in your immediate circle who is "captive" or "oppressed" and accompany them with a gesture of presence and freedom.
• Participating in a concrete charitable or social action as an expression of the messianic program of Nazareth.
• As a community, reread this text once a month and share how each person experiences it in their sphere of life.
• Explore the concept of biblical jubilee (Lev 25) and draw from it a personal reflection on the relationship to money, debts and sharing.
• Pray regularly using the liturgical formula of the day: «"Glory and praise to you, Lord Jesus! The Spirit of the Lord is upon me."»

References

1. Luke 4:16-21 — Jerusalem Bible (AELF liturgical translation for the opening pericope).
2. Isaiah 61:1-2; 58:6 — Masoretic Hebrew text and LXX (Septuagint); cf. Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia.
3. Joseph A. Fitzmyer, SJ. — The Gospel According to Luke I-IX, Anchor Bible, vol. 28 (Doubleday, 1981): a reference exegetical commentary on Luke 4.
4. Origin — Homilies on the Gospel of Luke, SC 87 (Cerf, 1962).
5. Saint Cyril of Alexandria — Commentary on the Gospel of Saint Luke, PG 72.
6. Yves-Marie Congar, op. — I believe in the Holy Spirit (Cerf, 1979-1980), 3 vols.: Theology of the Spirit and of mission.
7. François-Xavier Durrwell, c.ss.r. — The Holy Spirit of God (Cerf, 1983): anointing and mission in the Pauline and Lucan tradition.
8. Gustavo Gutiérrez — Liberation Theology (Lumen Vitae, 1971 / reissue): a social reading of the Nazareth program, to be read in critical dialogue.

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