A Homecoming
Fifth Sunday After Pentecost
July 9, 2006
In coming to Jacksonville, I feel that in many ways I am coming home. I haven’t ever lived in this town before. But my family roots are next door in Etowah County, and my grandfather is from over in Alexandria. I have lived and worked in Anniston at various times in my life. In fact, I did some of the research for my doctoral dissertation at the Jacksonville State University Library. Sure, I’ve spent more time in Chicago and New York and that fancy metropolis of Huntsville, but I think you can say that in many ways this is a homecoming.
So you can imagine my dismay upon discovering that the Gospel reading for my first Sunday here is on Jesus returning to his hometown. No big welcome for him in Nazareth. No potluck luncheon after service. No, they turned their backs on him. They said a local boy couldn’t amount to much. Which led Jesus to say that a prophet is given honor everywhere – everywhere, that is, except in his hometown.
Great. So much for homecomings. So much for the hometown spirit.
It is hard, in retrospect, to understand how people could have rejected Jesus. These days, many folks find it difficult to relate to a man who lived 2000 years ago. But when Jesus is right in front of you, healing and preaching and doing miracles? Well, I’d like to think that I would have been convinced. But many, in fact most, were not convinced. They were blind to the power of Jesus.
The typical Jew in that era had been taught that the messiah would be a military hero—so many were blinded by tradition. In Jerusalem a mob would later become so riled up by political and religious opponents that they would call for Jesus’ death—they were blinded by hate. And in Nazareth—in Nazareth they were blinded by familiarity.
You see, Jesus had gone away and begun his ministry elsewhere. When he came home, he wasn’t coming to visit his family. Jesus came with his disciples following after—so this was a business trip, part of his missionary travels. He came to Nazareth with every intention of preaching, teaching, casting out demons, and healing—all the things he would later commission his 12 disciples to do elsewhere.
But things didn’t work out as he planned….and that presents us with a theological difficulty. Why didn’t Jesus’ plans work out? Why couldn’t an all-powerful Jesus accomplish whatever he wanted to? It’s like the old child’s theological question: If God can do anything, can God make a rock so heavy even he can’t lift it?
I don’t want to answer that one right now. That’s why God invented coffee hour. But I think we can answer the question of why the missionary campaign of Jesus in Nazareth was such a failure. Two words: vision and faith. Or rather, the lack of vision and faith. The folks in Nazareth didn’t see the messiah; they saw Mary’s son. They didn’t see the Son of God; they saw the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon. They saw one of their neighbors.
It was easier for strangers to accept Jesus as the messiah because they were looking for a messiah, they were looking for a savior to walk into their lives. The messiah would be someone new and wonderful, not someone they already new. Certainly not the son of a mere carpenter who grew up right down that dusty street.
The problem for them, of course, was that this man was the messiah. He was the Son of God. They blew it. One or two people allowed themselves to be healed, but that was it. Notice that I said “allowed themselves to be healed.” The text tells us that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. The active voice—he did this to them. But the overall point of the gospel lesson is that only those who opened their eyes and their hearts to Jesus could be healed. Jesus did not go about healing people against their will.
So here’s the key: you have to recognize Jesus for who he is before you can invite him into your life. Remember the reading from last week? It was about the woman who reached out and touched the hem of his garment, begging to be healed. She recognized Jesus, recognized his power, and was willing to be healed. That’s how it works. Nobody is healed, nobody is saved, against their will.
And that was the problem in Nazareth—nobody was willing to be healed. Nobody was willing to be saved. Nobody was willing to recognize Jesus when he stood right there in front of them. Nobody there had faith.
Now this involves a fine point of doctrine that I should explain. We cannot decide to be saved and make it so. That’s something called the Pelagian heresy. We as orthodox Christians understand that Jesus makes the first move. It’s right out of Scripture: Jesus came into Nazareth, offering healing and salvation—and was rejected. Jesus comes to us first and we must respond, by faith with thanksgiving. Without that response, there is no healing. There is no salvation.
Well, that tells us about the Nazarenes, the neighbors who didn’t recognize the power of Christ, who were blinded by familiarity. What about us? What blinds us today?
Are we blinded by tradition? We live in a region that thrives on tradition, though we’re often very selective in what we pick out of that tradition to hang onto and celebrate. We are part of a religion and denomination that celebrates ancient tradition, but sometimes we end up just going through the motions because we’ve always done it that way. In our daily lives e can get into a rut in which we don’t recognize Jesus out of pure habit.
Or are we blinded by hate? On Wednesday night, we talked about the hard teaching of Jesus that we should love our enemies. Who is it that we hate? Who is that we simply dislike? Who is it that we would just rather not be around? People who look different? Speak differently? Live on the wrong side of the square? Who don’t I go out of my way to love?
Finally, are we blinded familiarity? I sure felt like I was doing something good for the Lord when I worked in a soup kitchen. Or spent the night in a homeless shelter. Or preached in a tiny mission church in Panama. That’s because I was somewhere exotic, somewhere gritty. I was somewhere unfamiliar and it’s easy to see Jesus in the unfamiliar.
But what a trap that can be. It’s easy to believe that the only time I serve the Lord is when I’m somewhere exotic or at least uncomfortable. It’s easy to come back home to Nazareth, back home to Jacksonville, look Jesus in the eye and say, “Nah, I see you all the time. You’re not the real Jesus.”
Don’t misunderstand. The far-away work was valuable and necessary. But the real Jesus is also right here, in this state, this town, this building. He is our neighbor, he is our enemy, he is our friend. He is here in our hometown to offer healing and salvation—but only to those who refuse to be blind. Healing and wholeness come to those who will look their neighbor in the eye, full of faith, and say, “In you, I see the real Jesus.”
Amen.
July 9, 2006
In coming to Jacksonville, I feel that in many ways I am coming home. I haven’t ever lived in this town before. But my family roots are next door in Etowah County, and my grandfather is from over in Alexandria. I have lived and worked in Anniston at various times in my life. In fact, I did some of the research for my doctoral dissertation at the Jacksonville State University Library. Sure, I’ve spent more time in Chicago and New York and that fancy metropolis of Huntsville, but I think you can say that in many ways this is a homecoming.
So you can imagine my dismay upon discovering that the Gospel reading for my first Sunday here is on Jesus returning to his hometown. No big welcome for him in Nazareth. No potluck luncheon after service. No, they turned their backs on him. They said a local boy couldn’t amount to much. Which led Jesus to say that a prophet is given honor everywhere – everywhere, that is, except in his hometown.
Great. So much for homecomings. So much for the hometown spirit.
It is hard, in retrospect, to understand how people could have rejected Jesus. These days, many folks find it difficult to relate to a man who lived 2000 years ago. But when Jesus is right in front of you, healing and preaching and doing miracles? Well, I’d like to think that I would have been convinced. But many, in fact most, were not convinced. They were blind to the power of Jesus.
The typical Jew in that era had been taught that the messiah would be a military hero—so many were blinded by tradition. In Jerusalem a mob would later become so riled up by political and religious opponents that they would call for Jesus’ death—they were blinded by hate. And in Nazareth—in Nazareth they were blinded by familiarity.
You see, Jesus had gone away and begun his ministry elsewhere. When he came home, he wasn’t coming to visit his family. Jesus came with his disciples following after—so this was a business trip, part of his missionary travels. He came to Nazareth with every intention of preaching, teaching, casting out demons, and healing—all the things he would later commission his 12 disciples to do elsewhere.
But things didn’t work out as he planned….and that presents us with a theological difficulty. Why didn’t Jesus’ plans work out? Why couldn’t an all-powerful Jesus accomplish whatever he wanted to? It’s like the old child’s theological question: If God can do anything, can God make a rock so heavy even he can’t lift it?
I don’t want to answer that one right now. That’s why God invented coffee hour. But I think we can answer the question of why the missionary campaign of Jesus in Nazareth was such a failure. Two words: vision and faith. Or rather, the lack of vision and faith. The folks in Nazareth didn’t see the messiah; they saw Mary’s son. They didn’t see the Son of God; they saw the brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon. They saw one of their neighbors.
It was easier for strangers to accept Jesus as the messiah because they were looking for a messiah, they were looking for a savior to walk into their lives. The messiah would be someone new and wonderful, not someone they already new. Certainly not the son of a mere carpenter who grew up right down that dusty street.
The problem for them, of course, was that this man was the messiah. He was the Son of God. They blew it. One or two people allowed themselves to be healed, but that was it. Notice that I said “allowed themselves to be healed.” The text tells us that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. The active voice—he did this to them. But the overall point of the gospel lesson is that only those who opened their eyes and their hearts to Jesus could be healed. Jesus did not go about healing people against their will.
So here’s the key: you have to recognize Jesus for who he is before you can invite him into your life. Remember the reading from last week? It was about the woman who reached out and touched the hem of his garment, begging to be healed. She recognized Jesus, recognized his power, and was willing to be healed. That’s how it works. Nobody is healed, nobody is saved, against their will.
And that was the problem in Nazareth—nobody was willing to be healed. Nobody was willing to be saved. Nobody was willing to recognize Jesus when he stood right there in front of them. Nobody there had faith.
Now this involves a fine point of doctrine that I should explain. We cannot decide to be saved and make it so. That’s something called the Pelagian heresy. We as orthodox Christians understand that Jesus makes the first move. It’s right out of Scripture: Jesus came into Nazareth, offering healing and salvation—and was rejected. Jesus comes to us first and we must respond, by faith with thanksgiving. Without that response, there is no healing. There is no salvation.
Well, that tells us about the Nazarenes, the neighbors who didn’t recognize the power of Christ, who were blinded by familiarity. What about us? What blinds us today?
Are we blinded by tradition? We live in a region that thrives on tradition, though we’re often very selective in what we pick out of that tradition to hang onto and celebrate. We are part of a religion and denomination that celebrates ancient tradition, but sometimes we end up just going through the motions because we’ve always done it that way. In our daily lives e can get into a rut in which we don’t recognize Jesus out of pure habit.
Or are we blinded by hate? On Wednesday night, we talked about the hard teaching of Jesus that we should love our enemies. Who is it that we hate? Who is that we simply dislike? Who is it that we would just rather not be around? People who look different? Speak differently? Live on the wrong side of the square? Who don’t I go out of my way to love?
Finally, are we blinded familiarity? I sure felt like I was doing something good for the Lord when I worked in a soup kitchen. Or spent the night in a homeless shelter. Or preached in a tiny mission church in Panama. That’s because I was somewhere exotic, somewhere gritty. I was somewhere unfamiliar and it’s easy to see Jesus in the unfamiliar.
But what a trap that can be. It’s easy to believe that the only time I serve the Lord is when I’m somewhere exotic or at least uncomfortable. It’s easy to come back home to Nazareth, back home to Jacksonville, look Jesus in the eye and say, “Nah, I see you all the time. You’re not the real Jesus.”
Don’t misunderstand. The far-away work was valuable and necessary. But the real Jesus is also right here, in this state, this town, this building. He is our neighbor, he is our enemy, he is our friend. He is here in our hometown to offer healing and salvation—but only to those who refuse to be blind. Healing and wholeness come to those who will look their neighbor in the eye, full of faith, and say, “In you, I see the real Jesus.”
Amen.
posted by Michael+ at 10:49 PM
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