Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13
When I go on vacation I like to learn some things about the place I am visiting. We just returned from ten days in Colorado nd hiking in the Rocky Mountain National Park. It was my first visit to the Centennial State and besides learning a little about my limits hiking at over a mile above sea level, I also learned a lot about the people of Colorado. They are first and foremost, without question, some of the friendliest people I have ever met. Everyone greeted us, chatted with us, offered us suggestions about our hiking plans and were just overall warm and friendly. The other thing I learned was that as far as I can tell, there is only one person in the whole state who was actually born there. (A waitress at a restaurant in Denver.) Everyone else we met admitted sooner or later to having been born, as they termed it, a “flatlander.” The ranger who gave us extensive advice and guidance was born in Ohio. The builder of the condominium complex we stayed in was actually born in Chicago but grew up in Kansas. We met a number of people from Michigan, Iowa, Missouri, an eclectic array of “flatlanders”. It was curious how sooner or later it seemed everyone had this need to admit that they were not from Colorado but from somewhere else.
Hometown is the term we use. That place from which we came, where we grew up. For some it is a nostalgic memory of a better and simpler place while for others it is the place they could not wait to leave. It is not necessarily the place of your birth but rather where you grew up or at least where you claim a sense of place. Home. And Jesus “came to his hometown and this disciples followed him.” We know Jesus was born in Bethlehem but after a short excursion to Egypt, we are told that he grew up in Nazareth. A rural community in the north Galilee with a population of maybe 150 people. His father was a carpenter. Scholars estimate that for most of recorded history prior to the last three centuries the majority of people lived their entire lives within 25 miles of their birth place. The basic explanation for this was that there was no AAA, Garmin, MapQuest, or GPS system. Maps were generally crude and inaccurate with many sections of the map being the best guess of the cartographer based on descriptions of other travelers. Traveling merchants and traders followed well prescribed trading routes lest they risked getting lost which too often resulted in extreme hardship and even death. The one thing that you could be sure of was that no one moved far from home. In fact in most cases the greatest move children made was from one bedroom to another, or maybe to a place built out back for the newlyweds who eventually were expected to move into the "big" house when the old couple became too old to care for themselves. A son might go out to explore or even see the world but he never went too far, and he was always expected to return home and to his place in the community. So Jesus came to his hometown.
Yesterday at the 4th of July parade I got into a discussion with a couple of community members about growing up in rural small town America. The one observation that stands out was how anyone who grew up in a rural community knows how often identity is given by place and past much as it was in the first century A.D. When I was growing up in southern Minnesota I was regularly identified as Ole Knutson's grandson. To many in the area my parents still live on the old Knutson farm even though they have resided there for over 30 years. As one of my brothers observed, “the land is never really yours until everyone who remembers who first owned it is gone. And people live a long, long time around here.” He should know. He lived on his last place for almost 20 years but it was still known as the Swenson Grove when he moved.
Jesus returned to his hometown, teaching in the synagogue where those who heard him identified him as the carpenter because that is what his father had been. And that is how most in the community had first encountered him. It’s different for us. I am willing to bet that if you asked anyone today what identity they associate with Jesus you will find no one who mentions carpentry. If we pursued first associations with Jesus, the image that most of us would probably have is that of Jesus in a manger. Every child is quick to grasp the Christmas story. Who doesn’t like a baby? Jesus entered the world in a manager and for most of us that is the initial image we have of this Jesus. Maybe we go so far as to see him as God’s gift to humanity. And we all like getting gifts.
But the baby doesn’t stay in the manger. Place of birth is fine, but the hometown folks didn’t think in terms of birth and manger. They remembered the maturing adolescent working around his father’s shop. And most of us have a similar experience of encountering Jesus not just as a Christmas card greeting but as he entered our lives through Sunday school, Sunday worship, youth group activities and confirmation classes. He was always around in church and to a certain degree even in our culture. Jesus was mentioned in stories that sometimes actually seemed to connect with events in our lives. Sometimes he was someone we felt we were actually getting close to while other times he kind of went his way and we went ours. We knew where to find him but we also learned how to keep him in his place or at least out of our lives when he might be an inconvenient guest. We learned about sin and guilt. We also might have decided that he represented something we called organized religion and we weren’t too sure about what place we had for such things in our lives. And Jesus came to his hometown and he began to teach.
We learned a lot from Jesus. At least he offered to teach us about morality, ethics, money and the meaning of life. But for the most part we already pretty much knew what we thought about such things and we just let him do his thing and we did ours.
Jesus has been part of our hometown crowd for some time. We know him the way we have found and felt most comfortable knowing him. We try not to upset him and we appreciate it when he doesn’t try to upset us.
But some things in life are upsetting. You don’t have to live too long to encounter pain, suffering, disease and even death. We know that Jesus had such encounters. Most of us have experienced some emotional investment in the suffering and death of Jesus as recounted in the story of his crucifixion. Many of us know the power of the Holy Week worship services. More intensely, we know the power of death to touch our lives, to turn them upside down and inside out. This is the Jesus that we have met and found comforting as we strive to find a way through our grief into the hope of the life to come. This is the Jesus we have met as we strove to find meaning in a life well lived and the promise of life beyond death.
The hometown Jesus is a comfortable friend but there come times in life when we really don’t want just another friend. We want someone who can make a difference. This is especially true of the miracle. This is the unexpected encounter with circumstance, situations or disease that call into question our understanding of how life is supposed to go. This is the potential crisis of faith as we look for hope. As we seek the cure for that which is incurable, the wholeness for that which is cut and divided. We want a miracle but have difficulty seeing how that is possible.
It has happened before. There in his home town Jesus proclaimed that “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And our text tells us he could do no deed of power there. What is interesting about this description in scripture is that it does not say Jesus had no power. He was still Jesus, the son of God. We are even told that he still laid his hands on sick people and cured them. The problem was not a loss of power but rather that no one in the hometown could recognize the power he had. The hometown crowd could not see the source of hope and life who stood before them. All they could see was the carpenter’s son and they didn’t find wood working all that important or edifying. Sometimes that is our problem too. We can’t recognize the power, we are unable to discern the grace present all around us. Jesus comes to us once more this morning. The word of grace, the bread and the wine, his body and blood. Power, presence or just another summer Sunday? It is the summer, after all. Fourth of July weekend. Christmas is half a year away. Easter is long over. No birth stories or even crucifixions today. The Jesus we meet is the Jesus who was returning to basics. And Jesus came to his hometown and began to teach.
When I returned from Colorado I was in serious need of having my beard and hair trimmed. Pastor Chris suggested that I needed to lose the Grizzly Adams look so I did something I rarely do. I went to the barber shop on a Saturday morning. The place was filled with a number of fathers all sitting with their young sons waiting to get their hair cut. Several of the young boys, clearly grade school age, were also dressed in baseball uniforms anticipating a game later in the day. I was seated waiting next to one young boy who had the sports pages open in his lap and he was attempting to read the box scores but was having difficulty with all the abbreviations. He kept turning to his father with questions like, “What is AB?” “At bats,” his father would reply. “And RBI?” he asked. His father answered “Runs batted in”. I could sense that other fathers and sons in the room were beginning to listen in to see how dad was doing. “What’s a run batted in?” came the question and all ears turned to dad as we wondered how complete an answer he would give. In the end, I would say the father did pretty good including details of how an RBI can be scored even when you make an out. Most of the men waiting with me probably didn’t think twice about the baseball lesson taught. But as I listened and watched the young faces around the room suddenly listening intently I began to realize that these answers would not only serve this young boy well but undoubtedly be shared with friends and possibly a future son some day. This is the stuff of tradition and core understandings. It could be the beginning of a new passion for one of the young minds listening to a father’s explanations. Maybe one of these boys would become a great sports commentator and go on to use such skills to interpret and motivate others, maybe even aspiring to lead others and follow the path of one of our former Presidents from sports radio to acting to politics to the Presidency. One never knows where the spirit may lead. So I think about our lesson for this morning. Jesus returned to his hometown and began to teach. While the religious leaders and those familiar with Jesus were unable to see the power of his words, I can’t help but think there must have been some younger people in the gathering who had never met Jesus’ father or even Jesus. Minds open to questions of faith. Seeking after explanations or new ways of seeing and hearing old stories and new. Who knows which of those hearing were touched by God’s grace to embrace the promise of Jesus’ words and discover a miracle in their lives. Each time a Sunday school teacher retells a story; each time a Tuesday LYFE student offers a prayer petition for someone they know to be sick or in need; each time a child sits through worship with family learning how and when to respond to the liturgy, these are foundations upon which a life may be centered, a new life begun. This is a hometown Sunday. The place where we learn to recognize the power of Jesus to touch and transform lives. This morning we meet Jesus once more in forms familiar and yet open to the miracle of his power made manifest in the hearts and minds of those who know him so well. This is a hometown Sunday. It doesn’t matter where you were born, Illinois, Colorado, Minnesota. What matters that we are each born again, born anew by God’s grace. In this we have the promise of a home for all eternity with God’s son.
And Jesus came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him.
Amen