I once lived in a place that that must
have been central castings idea of the ideal midwestern “hometown.” It had not
one, not two, but three “Main Streets’ (even though none of them were called “Main
Street”)! There was one that went past the small college, through the center of
town past the courthouse and the opera house, crossed a small river and connected
to another part of town. There was one that was perpendicular to this one, and went
from the local “grand” hotel, past businesses, the armory, and post office and
then past a few churches. Then there was the third “main street” that also
started at that hotel but went north (actually, compass east) along the Ohio River
eventually past the supermarket, the strip mall, the multiplex, and the big box
stores. At that time, I ministered in a
variety of little churches up and down both sides of the Ohio River, mainly along what
I called the “west coast” of West Virginia but also on the Ohio side. And in each of those little Appalachian
towns there was a “main street,” whatever they were called.
And they all had their own special
day or weekend or week. Sometimes it was July 4th, or Labor Day, or
else it was built around the county fair circuit. And even though I didn’t grow
up in these places, their rides, booths, fireworks, corn dogs, ramps, and
cotton candy, all had the feel of being “home.”
Being from a “hometown” can be very
comforting and grounding; but it might also be something very different…
someplace one gets away from.
The Rev. Dr. Andrew Harmon of Baton
Rouge, Louisiana, reminds us that “….for many people, hometowns can also be
sources of pain. They can hold old anxieties. Maybe these were places where one
found one’s true identity… or had to leave to become their own person. Maybe the
hometown might have been a place where one really didn’t “fit” in. Maybe one’s
faith (or lack thereof) was growing in a different direction, or maybe one fell
in love with someone from outside or from the wrong part of town. Maybe a
person’s political beliefs affected their view of the place or just made it
hard to talk to others. Some people looked evil in the eyes for the very first time
in that place, or found themselves ostracized for who they knew themselves to
be or how they wanted to live their lives or for whom they loved.”
He’s right! Small town life can be complicated!
Whatever “hometown” means for us, it
can be lifegiving and heart-rending all at once! And that’s how it was for
Jesus!
Today’s Gospel from Mark shows us
Jesus returning to his hometown with his disciples in tow. And while we don’t
know if he gave his gang the grand tour, showing him the sites and meeting friends
and family, we do hear that were some pretty significant challenges.
I am always surprised about how
little we know Jesus’ upbringing (although some of the Gnostic and early Christian
material that didn’t make it into the New Testament, has some pretty fascinating and outright weird stories about the young Jesus)! But here's what today’s
passage tells us: He grew up in a big family. His parents, Mary and Joseph were devout
Jews and probably pillars of the local synagogue. Jesus certainly inherited his
faith and learned faithfulness in that home. I love the scene in the Gospel of
Matthew where the adolescent Jesus hangs out at the synagogue for three days,
sitting among the religious leaders, peppering them with questions and
suggesting new takes on old stories! When the Bible says that Mary and Joseph
pondered these things in their hearts, I think that was ‘Bible speak’ for “what’s
Jesus up to now?” Now here it is twenty years later
and Jesus has left home. He’s gathered some blokes to come along while he begins
his ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing. He travels up and down the
region staying in homes and villages and cities all around Galilee. Along the
way, Jesus talks about something called the kingdom of God and utters shocking,
outrageous statements about his relationship to God.
Throughout Mark’s gospel, he tells
those who witness or experience his healing power not to speak, for fear that
their testimonies will be misunderstood and, perhaps, get them into hot water.
But you what happens in small towns,
right? Word gets around and people flock to Jesus. But it’s not to hear the
barker at the county fair…they come to Jesus to be made well in body or soul.
Others, want to see a miracle with their own two eyes. In Mark 5, immediately
before our text today, crowds saw Jesus casting out demons in the land of the
Gerasenes. We heard last week how others saw him raise the daughter of a
synagogue official and the healing a woman with a blood disorder. Jesus has
been busy, on a journey that has taken him far from home, but now he returns to
his hometown.
I wonder if Nazareth was a place of
some comfort for Jesus? I wonder if seeing familiar faces, being reintroduced
to familiar sights, sounds and smells might have reminded him of all the things
that happened—those meals, those events, and maybe even those shenanigans, with
his family and friends since childhood. Perhaps all this nostalgia got in the
way of others being able to see Jesus for who he was.
“Where did this man get all this?” they
ask. “Is
not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and
Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?”
Jesus observes that “Prophets are not without honor,
except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.”
So just like that, Jesus went from being
a hometown hero to pariah. Because why would the hometown hero come home and
call people out?
Well, Jesus had a prophetic role as
well a teaching, healing ministry. We like the other stuff, but prophets come
to unsettle, startle, and stir things up. They call people into new ways of
seeing the world. Prophets call attention the work of God and demand faithfulness.
I can hear the grumbling now: We gave him his start and taught him everything
he knows, and this is how he treats us?
You know, I think I understand that
hometown crowd. Rather than “booing” them for their inhospitality, I think I get
their resistance. I mean, I know that I am not always ready for Jesus to challenge
and change me! Too often this is not what I want or expect from Jesus. Neither
were they ready for what he had to offer them.
I think that by now you know that I
am allergic to the word “disruption.” It has been the trendy concept in leadership
training circles both in business and in church for over a decade. Often people
think disruption is just coming in and breaking the dishes just for the fun of
it, as if the shocked reaction is the main event.
But Jesus is doing something else…
he is saying that God’s kingdom, God’s reign, is here now and that the things
of God are not what we’ve come to expect. And that disturbed the folks in his
hometown synagogue. And often that disturbs us.
For many of us, faith is supposed to
be cozy, especially in a world where good news can be hard to come by and
things are so unpredictable. But as a hymn in our hymnal says “the peace of God,
it is no peace but strife sown in the sod…” The punchline of that hymn urges us
to pray for that same, “marvelous peace of God.”
You know, of course, the difference
between a real prophet and a religious huckster, right? A real prophet points
to God, pointing beyond themselves and allows God’s spirit to work and for
people to grow into the things of God. A huckster says that only they know the
way to God and it’s all about them and their technique or charisma. As much as
we want real prophets, often our hearts and our fragile egos want the ready answers
and the good feelings.
Jesus said, “Prophets are not without honor,
except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.”
That’s because it is uncomfortable to be in the presence of a prophet. It can wreak
havoc in the corners of your heart, in your own house, among your own people. When
God speaks into those fragile, protected parts of us, or even to the warmest,
coziest places of our lives, our souls’ capacity for love grows—our love for God
and our neighbors grows. We change and grow in the process. It might feel like
scales falling from our eyes, encouraging us to see those who were, for the
longest time, invisible to us. We might start to witness walls of hostility and
division come tumbling down, or cease to be built in the first place. We might
learn to welcome those whom we, at one time, labeled “unsafe” or “other” or
“criminal”.
We are all shaken up by Jesus in our own way. But whatever happens, routine religiosity is the first thing to go and transformation occurs in its place. Like the people in Jesus’ home synagogue, they were
at once “astounded” at God’s words and works and they were invited to take part in
Jesus’ challenging and healing power.
At that time, I ministered in a
variety of little churches up and down both sides of the Ohio River, mainly along what
I called the “west coast” of West Virginia but also on the Ohio side. And in each of those little Appalachian
towns there was a “main street,” whatever they were called.
And they all had their own special
day or weekend or week. Sometimes it was July 4th, or Labor Day, or
else it was built around the county fair circuit. And even though I didn’t grow
up in these places, their rides, booths, fireworks, corn dogs, ramps, and
cotton candy, all had the feel of being “home.”
Being from a “hometown” can be very
comforting and grounding; but it might also be something very different…
someplace one gets away from.
The Rev. Dr. Andrew Harmon of Baton
Rouge, Louisiana, reminds us that “….for many people, hometowns can also be
sources of pain. They can hold old anxieties. Maybe these were places where one
found one’s true identity… or had to leave to become their own person. Maybe the
hometown might have been a place where one really didn’t “fit” in. Maybe one’s
faith (or lack thereof) was growing in a different direction, or maybe one fell
in love with someone from outside or from the wrong part of town. Maybe a
person’s political beliefs affected their view of the place or just made it
hard to talk to others. Some people looked evil in the eyes for the very first time
in that place, or found themselves ostracized for who they knew themselves to
be or how they wanted to live their lives or for whom they loved.”
He’s right! Small town life can be complicated!
Whatever “hometown” means for us, it
can be lifegiving and heart-rending all at once! And that’s how it was for
Jesus!
Today’s Gospel from Mark shows us
Jesus returning to his hometown with his disciples in tow. And while we don’t
know if he gave his gang the grand tour, showing him the sites and meeting friends
and family, we do hear that were some pretty significant challenges.
Now here it is twenty years later
and Jesus has left home. He’s gathered some blokes to come along while he begins
his ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing. He travels up and down the
region staying in homes and villages and cities all around Galilee. Along the
way, Jesus talks about something called the kingdom of God and utters shocking,
outrageous statements about his relationship to God.
Throughout Mark’s gospel, he tells
those who witness or experience his healing power not to speak, for fear that
their testimonies will be misunderstood and, perhaps, get them into hot water.
But you what happens in small towns,
right? Word gets around and people flock to Jesus. But it’s not to hear the
barker at the county fair…they come to Jesus to be made well in body or soul.
Others, want to see a miracle with their own two eyes. In Mark 5, immediately
before our text today, crowds saw Jesus casting out demons in the land of the
Gerasenes. We heard last week how others saw him raise the daughter of a
synagogue official and the healing a woman with a blood disorder. Jesus has
been busy, on a journey that has taken him far from home, but now he returns to
his hometown.
I wonder if Nazareth was a place of
some comfort for Jesus? I wonder if seeing familiar faces, being reintroduced
to familiar sights, sounds and smells might have reminded him of all the things
that happened—those meals, those events, and maybe even those shenanigans, with
his family and friends since childhood. Perhaps all this nostalgia got in the
way of others being able to see Jesus for who he was.
“Where did this man get all this?” they
ask. “Is
not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and
Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?”
Jesus observes that “Prophets are not without honor,
except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.”
So just like that, Jesus went from being
a hometown hero to pariah. Because why would the hometown hero come home and
call people out?
Well, Jesus had a prophetic role as
well a teaching, healing ministry. We like the other stuff, but prophets come
to unsettle, startle, and stir things up. They call people into new ways of
seeing the world. Prophets call attention the work of God and demand faithfulness.
I can hear the grumbling now: We gave him his start and taught him everything
he knows, and this is how he treats us?
You know, I think I understand that
hometown crowd. Rather than “booing” them for their inhospitality, I think I get
their resistance. I mean, I know that I am not always ready for Jesus to challenge
and change me! Too often this is not what I want or expect from Jesus. Neither
were they ready for what he had to offer them.
I think that by now you know that I
am allergic to the word “disruption.” It has been the trendy concept in leadership
training circles both in business and in church for over a decade. Often people
think disruption is just coming in and breaking the dishes just for the fun of
it, as if the shocked reaction is the main event.
But Jesus is doing something else…
he is saying that God’s kingdom, God’s reign, is here now and that the things
of God are not what we’ve come to expect. And that disturbed the folks in his
hometown synagogue. And often that disturbs us.
For many of us, faith is supposed to
be cozy, especially in a world where good news can be hard to come by and
things are so unpredictable. But as a hymn in our hymnal says “the peace of God,
it is no peace but strife sown in the sod…” The punchline of that hymn urges us
to pray for that same, “marvelous peace of God.”
You know, of course, the difference
between a real prophet and a religious huckster, right? A real prophet points
to God, pointing beyond themselves and allows God’s spirit to work and for
people to grow into the things of God. A huckster says that only they know the
way to God and it’s all about them and their technique or charisma. As much as
we want real prophets, often our hearts and our fragile egos want the ready answers
and the good feelings.
Jesus said, “Prophets are not without honor,
except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.”
That’s because it is uncomfortable to be in the presence of a prophet. It can wreak
havoc in the corners of your heart, in your own house, among your own people. When
God speaks into those fragile, protected parts of us, or even to the warmest,
coziest places of our lives, our souls’ capacity for love grows—our love for God
and our neighbors grows. We change and grow in the process. It might feel like
scales falling from our eyes, encouraging us to see those who were, for the
longest time, invisible to us. We might start to witness walls of hostility and
division come tumbling down, or cease to be built in the first place. We might
learn to welcome those whom we, at one time, labeled “unsafe” or “other” or
“criminal”.
We are all shaken up by Jesus in our own way. But whatever happens, routine religiosity is the first thing to go and transformation occurs in its place. Like the people in Jesus’ home synagogue, they were
at once “astounded” at God’s words and works and they were invited to take part in
Jesus’ challenging and healing power.
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