There are times and places where it’s best to leave well alone.  I mean, common sense tells you that when you go to a party it’s probably not a good idea to tell the host that you don’t like his politics.  Arguing with the cop who has you pulled over for speeding will only land you in more trouble.  Repeatedly pointing out your boss’ mistakes and shortcomings may well get you fired.  In theory, everyone should know that, but then again, there are always those who somehow have a knack for saying too much, for digging themselves deeper and deeper into a hole, for succumbing to the dreaded disorder known as t.m.i., that is “too much information.” 

Case in point—Jesus of Nazareth, a guy who despite his impressive pedigree never can leave well enough alone, no less than here in the Nazareth synagogue!  You gotta wonder what is going on in his head.  If he had an ounce of sense in him, he would have stopped when he began to sense the home town crowd’s admiration.  A little advice, Jesus, let them oh and ah, let them buy your dinner and maybe a round of drinks for everyone.  When people praise you revel in the moment.  Soak in every drop of honor, every word of praise coming your way.  Not only is it the polite thing to do, it’s smart. 

But true to form Jesus is not to be content to leave it at that, to giving the home town crowd a little bit of what they wanted.  Rather, what could have been another happy homecoming becomes an occasion of conflict in which he calls to task those who know him best, those closest to him.  For such a blatant show of ingratitude, for not acknowledging them, for not giving them their due, they would haul off and throw him over the cliff.  So, the story of a hometown hero instead becomes the casting out of a good for nothing scoundrel!  And if Jesus’ behavior doesn’t sit well with his family, friends and neighbors, how does it sit with us?  What tidings does his homecoming hold for you and me today?      

Whether you win the lottery, hit it big in the stock market or sign a multi-million dollar sports contract, there is a certain expectation that when you do well, you’re going to take care of your own, your parents, your children, the special people who believed in you when nobody else would.  It’s always been that way, no less so in Jesus’ day.  The good folks who had watched Jesus grow up from a precocious child to a skilled carpenter had heard the stories, of his teaching and healing.  They had a right to take credit for what he’d become, so they want to get in on the action, have at least a small share in the notoriety and benefits of being associated with such a great person.  And who can blame them?  After all, what would Johnson City be without LBJ, Tioga without Gene Autry, Austin without Willie Nelson? 

One year of seminary internship in rural Washington state and nearly five years as a pastor of a country congregation taught me a few things about small town living including that fact that although someone might move away and make it big, strike it rich or otherwise distinguish him or herself, she or he would always be one of them.  (You can take the boy (or girl) out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy (or girl)).  And woe be it if she forgets where she came from.  Woe be it if he makes the folks back home feel slighted or snubbed in any way.  He might well come to regret the day he was born. 

Jesus recognizes a level of expectation among those who feel they know him best, those who feel that he owes them something, a kind of jealous possessiveness if you will.  “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb,” he declares, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’  And you will say, “Do here also in your hometown the things we heard you did at Capernaum.”  From a human perspective, it seems perfectly fair and reasonable to expect Jesus to give them a little extra special attention.  After all they had been there to watch him grow up.  They were the ones who took care of him.  They knew him better than anyone else did.  And in the give and take of human relationship, he owed them at least as much if not more.  Wasn’t he the one who suggested that “from those to whom much is given is much expected?”  But in the height of insensitivity and disrespect, Jesus recalls two stories about how God chose to deal with outsiders—the widow of Zarephath and Naaman the Syrian, as opposed to the insiders.  Now in our day and age that would be like saying God chooses to do business with an undocumented Central American Immigrant, a Muslim or even an atheist before he does with a God fearing, church going, American Christian.  Jesus belongs to us, and that’s just the way we want it!             

I once heard about a peculiar man who built a church out in the woods with one seat and an altar big enough for him and God alone.  Now, I doubt that any of us would ever carry things to that extreme, but like the folks in Nazareth, there’s a part of us that would just as soon keep Jesus for ourselves.  Like those who seethed in the synagogue that day, we too don’t like it when our special claims upon God are called into question, when we can’t play the game of “who’s in and who’s out”. 

When we have an “in” with Jesus then nothing else, no one else really matters because it’s all about us!  And if it’s all about us, then being the church is about taking care of our own self interest, caring for ourselves before we do our neighbor.  Then, we tell ourselves, once we’ve taken care of ourselves, when everyone is happy, when all the bills are paid then we can worry about feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, proclaim release to the captives and the year of the Lord’s favor. 

So, if Jesus won’t give us his complete and undying attention, if he dares to call our status into question, we’ll show him—show him right out of town and over the cliff!  And why not?  After all, that’s what you do with those who refuse to give us what we want.  Maybe not the over the cliff part, because we are civilized folk mind you.  But whether at work, at school, in our neighborhoods, even at church, when people fail to meet our expectations we undermine, cast stones of suspicion, and assume the worst in others, all the while painting ourselves, our motives and our intentions in the most favorable, virtuous light we can.                      

But, you know, whether in first century Nazareth or twenty first century Austin, Texas a funny thing happens to those who lay claim to God, who presume that God owes them something.  Notice how the story of Jesus’ trip home ends rather mysteriously.  An angry mob worth its salt ought to do a better job of holding on to the object of their anger and resentment.  But look, instead, he slips away, “passes through the midst of them and went on his way.”  Maybe that’s what happens when the scandalous behavior of a “widow feeding”, “leper healing”, “friend of outsiders” named Jesus becomes apparent to us.  When it’s all about us, there’s no room for faith, there’s nothing for us to hold on to at all.  And yet, when all is said and done, those who think they’re in control, who presume to call the shots, who expect something from God end up losing control, losing everything and wind up with nothing, nothing but their own sad, miserable selves.

            But even our hard human hearts will not hold Jesus back.  Even violent rejection and death on the cross will not thwart the in breaking of the God’s kingdom.  And for unbelieving, sinners like you and me that’s the best news we could ever hear.  Through Christ’s death and resurrection, there is hope even for hard-hearted, hometown folks like us.  What we will not, what we cannot do for ourselves, Christ does for us.  And now, because of what he has done for us, because of His God given identity, we have an identity, purpose in fulfilling of God’s commission—“to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

            And what is our piece as a congregation in fulfilling God’s mission in the world?  Truth is we are a small congregation and as long as we continue to be in ministry here at 6420 Hart Lane, we probably always will be.  For that reason, some might say we can’t make much of an impact in the world.  A few years ago, my friend Pastor Sandi Wilcox suggested that “somehow God uses us small churches like the tiny pieces of stained glass—the light shines through us, becoming part of a greater pattern as light spreads and warms the heart…It seems that God is determined to warm every dark soul, every broken heart, every lost child with His grace.”  Our commitment to serve others in our ministry through organizations like the Caring Communities of Austin that we heard about the other week, our Souper Bowl offering next Sunday on behalf of the ELCA World Hunger Appeal and the many other outreach ministries are ways the small piece of glass that is Ascension Lutheran Church become part of a far greater pattern of light that shines in our world today.  Likewise, each of us, in our own lives become a means through which the light of Christ shines at work, at school, in our homes and in our neighborhoods.  Jesus’ trip home shows us that those who need to hear the Good News may well be the people closest to us.

            In Christ, hometown people like you and I have hope.  Not by any effort on our part, that’s for sure.  Only by grace, the gift of life for you and me.  Now as Christ calls us, let us go and tell, to show in word and deed the wonders of God’s love, that at long last, all God’s children may be at home.  Amen. 

 

             

 

Pastor Brian Peterson