The First Congregational Church in Auburn UCC July 7, 2024
Mark 6:1-6 (The Message)
He left there and returned to his hometown. His disciples came along. On the Sabbath, he gave a lecture in the meeting place. He made a real hit, impressing everyone. “We had no idea he was this good!” they said. “How did he get so wise all of a sudden, get such ability?”
But in the next breath they were cutting him down: “He’s just a carpenter—Mary’s boy. We’ve known him since he was a kid. We know his brothers, James, Justus, Jude, and Simon, and his sisters. Who does he think he is?” They tripped over what little they knew about him and fell, sprawling. And they never got any further.
Jesus told them, “A prophet has little honor in his hometown, among his relatives, on the streets he played in as a child.” Jesus wasn’t able to do much of anything there—he laid hands on a few sick people and healed them, that’s all. He couldn’t get over their stubbornness. He left and made a circuit of the other villages, teaching.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
Years ago, I knew a young person who’d won a full ride scholarship to one of those prestigious prep schools – the kind of school which generally costs upwards of $70K a year and points you towards future success.
We were all excited for her and her family – and, of course, it was a feather in the cap of our school system. And then she turned the whole thing down, and went instead to our local high school. It’s a good school, to be sure, but more invested in preparing people to work in the local industry.
I thought for sure she’d decided she didn’t want to leave home and friends. But one day I found myself at the local version of Starbucks or Dunkin’s and her mom was at the next table, talking to her friends. That’s how I learned that the girl’s parents had refused her permission to take the scholarship… because they thought, probably rightly, that if she went off to that fancy school, she would change so much she wouldn’t belong at home anymore.
Her mom said she’d do well wherever she went, and they’d had to think about what would be best for her overall. And, who knows, maybe that was the right decision.
But it reminded me how strong our community expectations are. It’s the sort of thing we see here in this morning’s readings. Back home everyone is impressed by Jesus, at least at first, but their expectations – after all he’s just the carpenter’s son – made it impossible for them to really take Jesus seriously.
What we expect people to be puts fences around what we’re able to hear them say. Those folks in Jesus’ hometown couldn’t hold onto the Good News he preached because all they could really see was a carpenter’s son, and so he couldn’t possibly be saying anything enduringly important. Now, if he’d been talking about the differences between walnut and chestnut wood…. or now to sharpen tools, they’d have saved his thoughts forever.
But they thought they already knew him, and so they couldn’t really hear him.
That’s one reason why it can be hard to hear the Good News. But it’s not the only one. Sometimes we struggle to hear because we fear what that new idea might mean to us. I’m not just talking about bad news, but any news that might be unwelcome…
You’ll notice that because the folks back home couldn’t hear what Jesus was saying, Jesus himself had no power there. And he went away.
Joseph Bessler, who teaches theology in Phillips Seminary, puts it this way: “established habits of mind are powerful in resisting any gospel that would alter the balance of social power”[1]
Does that make sense to you? Does it still make sense if I tell you his school is in Oklahoma? Or do our cultural assumptions say he should be discounted because, well, Oklahoma??
That’s what this is all about. It’s about helping us become aware of the assumptions that make it hard for us to hear the call of Jesus. Maybe the assumption that stops you is an accent, maybe a skin color, or an origin. Maybe, the assumption that makes it hard for you to hear is a sense that if you once listened, really listened, you’d find yourself changing in ways that are scary. Maybe if you could hear, you’d have to stop hiding behind “we’ve always done it this way”. I know that’s how it works for me.
Being a Christian isn’t always easy. Sometimes we’re forced to face things we’d rather ignore, sometimes we have to try new things when we’re really uncomfortable. And sometimes we have to give up what we adore…. but we’re not left without resources.
First of all, we’re supposed to do this work in community – we are not alone, we are never alone. And then we have the power and comfort of worship to support and encourage us along the way. And always, always, we have the bread of heaven to nourish us. This communion we will share today gives us strength, reminds us that we are part of a centuries-long family of believers who have dedicated themselves to the idea that love changes everything.
So let us eat together and face the idea that the world is changing with courage and determination, that we might follow Jesus all the way.
Amen.
© 2024, Virginia H. Child
[1] Joseph A. Bessler, “Theological Perspective,” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark, ed. Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, First edition., A Feasting on the Word Commentary (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014), 168.
To Believe is to Care. . . To Care is to Do 