Jesus is Not the Hometown Hero

Last Sunday the rector of my church was out of town. She had come to me at the beginning of the summer and asked if I was willing to lead morning prayer and preach one Sunday if she needed to go out of town. I said I would and a few weeks later she emailed me with a date and the readings for that Sunday. On July 1, in anticipation of being distracted all week by really good books, I sat down and wrote (in about an hour and a half) my sermon. Satisfied I had a friend read over it and thought nothing else of it until it was time to print it out and read it. Summer attendance being what it is at a smaller parish attendance was on the low side on Sunday, but as a whole the experience was delightful. And surprisingly natural. I didn't have much time for nerves over my sermon and I didn't even panic when things didn't go quite right (none of the acolytes showed up, I was very hot, the microphone took a lot of getting used to, and one of the readers got very confused and ended up not reading the first lesson at the later service). And now without further ado, the sermon I preached on Mark 6:1-13.

Imagine with me for a moment that you are a young adult. You have already left home and gone out into the world to discover who you are. You’ve got a place you call home (a nice house on a hill), a job that pays spectacularly and you love it dearly, and some close friends that support your every decision. You have some time off from work so you decide to go visit your hometown; you bring your close friends along with a promise to show them around. Now imagine that you arrive in your hometown, only to be scoffed at by the inhabitants. They remember when you were the kid from around the corner who had very little money and a very big family. Now suddenly they accuse you of thinking you’re better then them; “Who do you think you are?” they say. “Just because you have money now, doesn’t make you better then us!” Sound familiar to anyone? If not, substitute faith in God for money; count out 12 faithful disciples, and a calling from God for the job. Now you have some idea of what Jesus was dealing with in this morning’s Gospel.

We would like to think that the town in which we were raised-if in our modern move-around-constantly society we were so lucky to have just one-would be the town that would support us and welcome us home with open arms. We want that town to be among the first to believe in us, and the first to fight for us. They say it takes a village to raise a child, and in small towns all across America I like to think that’s still a possibility.

It was certainly a reality in Jesus’ time. Women lived to do all the menial labor for men-cook, clean clothes, bring in water, raise the children, milk and feed the animals, harvest olives and fruits, and various other tasks. Which meant that often times women gathered to do their work together and brought their children with them. In a town like Nazareth, it is right to guess that most of the women would have helped Mary raise Jesus and His siblings. When you help raise a child, you come to know them in ways that complete strangers do not. You see when they fall and scrap their knee, their first argument with siblings-yes I think Jesus probably argued with His siblings too, you come to understand and help shape what kind of person they will be.

So on that day when Jesus brought the disciples to Nazareth thinking to show them around His home town, maybe even hoping to be able to relax a little and visit with His family, you can imagine how surprised He was by how they treated Him. “What is this wisdom given to him?” “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?” You can almost hear them sneering at Him, their utter disbelief in what He has to say. He is Mary’s son (not Joseph’s you will note) ergo He is not worth their time. I can just hear the shock coming from the disciples as they try to understand how the people in this town can be so dismissive of their Rabbi. “Don’t you know who this man is?” they might say. “This man has cast out demons, healed lepers, raised the dead, fed 5,000 with 5 loaves and 2 fish, and walked on water; how dare you speak to Him thus!”

I also imagine that Jesus would just sigh and calmly but sadly tell them to let it go. He would do what healing He could, but He wouldn’t try to force the issue. Its kind of like when you know someone really well and you get into an argument with them, at some point during that argument you realize that no matter what you say or how convincing you are you simply aren’t going to change their mind. I think Jesus hoped that by acting instead of speaking He would convince more of them to realize who and whose He was. Actions speak louder then words; unless you are Jesus in your hometown of Nazareth I guess.

It can be so difficult sometimes for the people closest to you to see you for who you really are. When we spend so much time getting to know someone, we slip into that comfortable space of thinking that they will never change. Baring a big shocking change, it may take years for us to realize that the person we knew no longer exists; or they do but not in way we are used to. As much as we are a fast changing society and we push to be adaptive, no one really likes big changes. There is a reason that so many traditions have lasted for hundreds of thousands of years; human beings are creatures of habit. I think that Jesus going to Nazareth with His disciples was God’s way of experiencing that first hand. And I believe that this story is important to Mark because he hopes that by reading it we will remember that we don’t have control over the lives of those around us. Yes, some people will change and it will not be for the better; but some people need to change in order to grow into the person that God asks them to be.

It is incredibly important for us to remember that our lives are in God’s hands. We can choose to put it there willingly, or we can try to take the reins ourselves and watch it go not according to our plans. Which do you choose?

Storytime

I feel like I owe anyone who has read this blog an explanation. First, an apology. I experienced a lot of frustration when I was going through the formal process last year and at the beginning of this year I stepped away from lots of things with no explanation. So now for a little story time.

In January/February of this year, after weeks of prayerful consideration I decided to remove myself from the formal process in the Diocese of Maryland. I was too focused on the financial obligations and way too stressed out by the whole experience. I wrote a formal letter of withdrawal and sent it to the Diocese. In it I explained what I was doing and why. I decided that I need more time outside of the process to discern what God is calling me to do with the gifts and talents He has given me. I spent so much time focused on what the next step was and worried about money that I was becoming unable to see or discern anything else. My discernment process was getting in the way of my discernment.

I spent the next several months focusing on my job-substitute teaching-and just letting life come as it would. At the end of March I had a jolt of surprise. I took three of my youth group kids (high schoolers) and practically shoved them outside of their comfort zone. Along with some other youth from our Diocese we headed to West Virginia and spent the weekend in the middle of the woods at a Conference/Camp Center with other youth from our Province. When the youth met for small groups, all the adults gathered together to talk and share experiences. When asked what I do at my home parish I explained and they responded by saying "so you're the youth minister." I was hesitant to agree because I don't wear a collar and don't get paid for what I do, but they insisted and my youth group kids agreed; and so suddenly I had achieved a new title without really trying to.

My only real goals at this point in the summer are 1) get some of the youth group to show up for a volunteer event they wanted to do-summer schedules are hard but they insist they still want to do it-and 2) to get signed up for an early childhood education class at the local community college-I'm hoping that it will give me the knowledge I need to take some tests and get my teaching certificate by the end of next summer. I try to take it one day at a time and listen carefully to what God is saying, but some days all I hear is silence on the other end of that conversation; something that has taken time to accept, but I know that when the time is right if I'm truly listening I will hear what I'm supposed to.