Many of us, perhaps most of us, have had some experience with our speech being evaluated. I am somewhat used to this, because in a sense my speech is evaluated each Sunday. Not everyone actually makes a comment, but by the looks on people’s faces and by the number who fall asleep or stay awake, there is an evaluation of sorts going on. That reminds me of the church I served where they only had one functioning radio headset for folks with hearing difficulties. One Sunday, Lorene asked Fred if he wanted to use it and he said, “That’s OK, you take it. I think I’ll sleep this morning.”
At any rate, what we say gets critiqued. Maybe you teach a class or present a paper at a conference. You take a speech class or you are on the debate team. You make a sales presentation or lead a workshop or teach Sunday School. You come up with a persuasive way to ask mom and dad for the car. Most of us have some experience with our speech being evaluated, whether we get actual formal feedback or not.
Our scripture for today is Jesus’ first sermon recorded in Luke. He has a limited amount of preaching experience and he’s giving one of his first sermons. But those present are not just evaluating the sermon; they are evaluating him.
Jesus had been a big hit in Capernaum. Stories were starting to circulate about how he was healing people and about what a captivating teacher he was. And so when he came home to Nazareth and went to the synagogue, the place was packed. Everyone was excited to see Jesus and hear what he had to say. These people knew him. They wanted him to do well. They were predisposed to give him a favorable evaluation.
And beyond the personal connections they had, folks were genuinely enthused about what Jesus’ success might mean to their community. It wasn’t easy living in Nazareth. There were heathens all around. Phoenicians lived to the west and north, Samaritans to the south, Greeks to the west. Nazareth was far from the good influence of Jerusalem and surrounded by these pagans. It was hard to be a good, pious Jew in the city of Nazareth. It’s no wonder that Nathaniel asked Philip, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nazareth was not an easy place for a Jew to grow up. A religious leader coming from Nazareth could be a great thing for the city.
In synagogue worship, all adult male members were eligible to read the scripture and comment. It was a fairly informal service, as opposed to worship at the Temple in Jerusalem. There was only one temple, but all it took to form a synagogue was ten male members. The service consisted of prayers, reading scripture, comments on the scripture, and almsgiving.
On this day, Jesus was invited to read the scripture. He opened the scroll of Isaiah and read: “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 he rolled up the scroll and gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. That was the custom – one didn’t stand at the pulpit to speak, one sat. All eyes were on Jesus. There was great anticipation. Everyone was eager to hear what he had to say. And this is what he said: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”
Wow. Not what they expected, exactly – Jesus seemed to be taking a bit more pastoral authority than one would expect from a fledgling preacher – but he sounded great. This was Jesus, one of their own. People commented on how well he spoke, how proud they were. Although there were some other thoughts behind these kind words for Jesus.
For one thing, there was some question about his scripture reading. He read from Isaiah chapter 61, which was all well and good, but he failed to finish the verse. He mentioned “the day of the Lord’s favor,” but he left out the next part, about “the day of vengeance of our God.” He spoke of good news for the poor, release, recovery, freedom, and the Lord’s favor, but left out vengeance. What was that about? Where was the vengeance? Was Jesus weak on sin?
And even more on the minds of people were subtle questions about whether Jesus had gotten too big for his britches. “Isn’t this Joseph and Mary’s boy?” they asked—and the implication was, how could Joe and Mary’s boy be talking like this?
So while Jesus was outwardly well received, there was some latent criticism. And as Jesus continued with the sermon, the negative response grew stronger, much stronger.
Jesus was aware of the criticisms and questions. But rather than quieting the crowd with a moving, inspirational sermon, Jesus is in the crowd’s face. “No doubt you are going to quote to me the proverb, “Doctor, heal yourself,” and you are going to want me to do in my hometown the things I did in Capernaum. Well, I know that no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.”
Like this is going to win over the crowd. Fred Craddock says that the opening of a sermon is like driving a bus. As you start off, you’re just trying to get everybody on board so that they will take the trip with you, and so you want to connect with the hearers. Obviously, Jesus had not read Fred Craddock’s book.
It gets worse. Jesus goes on to remind the crowd of instances in which God’s favor is shown not to good Israelites, but to dirty foreigners! “Remember when there was a severe famine, and Elijah went not to one of the Hebrew widows, but the poor widow at Zarephath in Sidon, and she was the hero of the story? Or remember when there were many lepers in Israel, but the leper who was healed was Naaman the Syrian?”
What is Jesus thinking? It is one thing to be provocative; it’s another to be stupid. These are people surrounded by Gentiles. These are people who are trying hard to be good Jews, but Jesus, one of their own, a hometown boy, is talking up foreigners! What’s the use of having a hometown Messiah if it’s not going to benefit the hometown? Jesus was disrespectful -- and what’s more, he was just wrong. These were isolated incidents – yes, God could on occasion show favor to other nations, but this was their God, not the Phoenicians’, not the Syrians’, not the Samaritans’. Where did Jesus get off? To stay with Fred Craddock’s transportation image, Jesus throws them under the bus.
The crowd became enraged. Jesus had essentially shown himself to be a false prophet by blaspheming the faithful, pious Jews and praising the sinful, pagan Gentiles. The punishment for false prophecy is death. They chased him to the edge of town and intended to throw him off the cliff there. That was the plan. Luke does not tell us how exactly, but Jesus was able to walk away.
Now, I have on occasion had adverse reaction to a sermon. Some folks will tell me when they think I’ve got it wrong, and I generally appreciate that – it then means something when they tell me I’ve got it right. But while folks have taken issue on occasion, I have never had an angry mob after me. I’m not necessarily proud of that - part of me thinks that if we were really preaching the gospel, we would have more angry mobs. If we preached like Jesus, more people would get mad.
You’ve got to admit: Jesus did get the crowd’s attention. They took notice. But if Jesus wanted to stay in the business long, this was definitely not the way to go about it.
There were good reasons the people in Jesus’ hometown reacted so strongly. First, there was the problem of familiarity. They knew Jesus—or they thought they did. This was the kid they had watched grow up, the boy who had worked with his father in the carpenter’s shop. What reason did he have to think he could just come in and tell them the way it was?
Jesus’ words were harsh, but it were someone else, they may have been a little easier to digest. If some outside expert had come in with a good PowerPoint presentation, it might have gone over better. But Jesus was one of their own. The problem was that their proximity and familiarity tended to blind them. Having known Jesus for years, having seen him in all kinds of situations, they just could not recognize him as a prophet. Certainly not as a messiah.
I wonder if we sometimes have that same problem. Jesus can be too familiar. Too much of a pal, too much “our” guy. Have you ever noticed all the paintings of Jesus that have him as a blond, blue-haired white guy? Have you noticed that we tend to attribute to Jesus good middle-class American values? Have you noticed how easy it is to make Jesus into somebody who could easily serve on the board of the Chamber of Commerce? Familiarity can blind us. Jesus is a friend, yes, a friend who is always with us. But Jesus is not our lackey.
Familiarity wasn’t the biggest problem. Perhaps a bigger issue was resentment that Jesus had taken God’s favor to others – others whom they didn’t care for. Capernaum, where Jesus had already had success, had a strong non-Jewish population. And his stories about the widow of Zarephath and Naaman the Syrian didn’t help at all.
You know what really got them? You know what was the worst thing? The worst thing was, Jesus really believed this stuff. He took it all just a little bit too seriously. He quotes Isaiah, talking about release of the captives and restoring sight to the blind and all that stuff. They liked that – it was a very nice sentiment. But Jesus really, truly, seriously believed this. He really did believe in good news for the poor – even for a poor widow of Zarapeth. He really did believe in healing – even for a Syrian like Namaan. Jesus wasn’t putting a limit on it. And he really did believe that he was somehow called by God to bring about this healing and recovery and release and Good News.
There was a strong reaction because Jesus’ preaching confronted them with truth they did not want to face. They wanted a manageable Messiah, a savior that could be controlled. They did not want someone barging in to remind them of a part of their own tradition that they would just as soon forget: that God’s favor extended beyond the confines of Israel. At the root of it all, they were offended by God’s grace, grace toward those of whom they did not approve.
You know, we can be just like the folks in Jesus’ hometown. We can feel under siege, like the good people of Nazareth: dominated by the powers-that-be, surrounded by pagan influences, lax morals, and power-mongering corporations. We can feel under siege, as though things are out of control, and we want God to be on our side. And God is with us. But like the people of Nazareth, we can be offended that God’s grace embraces those who are different from us.
We want a Messiah we can manage. We want a savior that we can control. What we don’t want is an unpredictable messiah. What we don’t want is a savior who will challenge us and maybe even change us.
It is worth noting that the very first word Jesus utters in the gospel of Luke is “today.” Not yesterday, not someday, but today. He begins not by dwelling on the past or dreaming of the future, he begins right here, right now, today. Today this scripture has come to pass. That is challenging.
There is a big difference between seeing the Bible as beautiful words and lofty thoughts and seeing it as making actual demands on us, calling for action here and now.
In her book The Case For God, Karen Armstrong argues that over the centuries, religion has been much more about what people do than simply what they think. Faith really can’t be understood, she says, unless it is lived. She wrote,
It is no use imagining that you will be able to drive a car if you simply read the manual or study the rules of the road. You cannot learn to dance, paint, or cook by perusing texts or recipes. The rules of a board game sound obscure, unnecessarily complicated, and dull until you start to play, when everything falls into place. There are some things that can be learned only by constant, dedicated practice, but if you persevere, you find that you achieve something that seemed initially impossible.
Jesus challenged his hometown congregation that their faith be about more than reading lofty scriptures. Living out this faith, making it a part of your life, could cause some discomfort.
Years ago Johnny Cash recorded the song “Man in Black.” Some of the words went like this:
Well, you wonder why I always dress in black,
Why you never see bright colors on my back,
And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone.
Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on.
I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down,
Livin’ in the hopeless, hungry side of town,
I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime,
But is there because he’s a victim of the times.
I wear the black for those who never read,Jesus came into his hometown synagogue and challenged his hometown congregation. The challenge was to really believe and really act on the words they read and spoke in worship each week. The challenge was to show their faith in their living, through compassion that reached out to those in need, to those most vulnerable, to those who were different than they were.
Or listened to the words that Jesus said,
About the road to happiness through love and charity,
Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me.
Well, we’re doin’ mighty fine, I do suppose,
In our streak of lightnin’ cars and fancy clothes,
But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back,
Up front there ought ‘a be a Man In Black.
I wear it for the sick and lonely old,
For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold,
I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been,
Each week we lose a hundred fine young men.
Well, there’s things that never will be right I know,
And things need changin' everywhere you go,
But ‘til we start to make a move to make a few things right,
You’ll never see me wear a suit of white.
It was a hard message. And Jesus was absolutely right: prophets find little honor in their hometown.
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