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Jesus’ Hometown What a galaxy of lessons today focusing on human vocations: the call of Jeremiah and Saint Paul’s magnificent hymn to love, the most human of all his writings. Luke’s description of Jesus’ visit to his hometown is – I believe - the most human portrait of Jesus in the gospels. Crucial, because Jesus has been pictured mostly as an all-knowing divine, walking around with all the answers in the back of the book, rather than the man who lived by faith, just as we do. PBS “Science Friday” caught my attention two weeks ago as it dealt with the relationship between science and religion. Two quotes caused me to scribble as best I could, driving to work on 85. One speaker spoke of religion as “spiritual beings trying to be human,” and how “things go bad when religion gets away from being human.” Most people think that we succeed when we became more divine. I think it’s just the opposite: we succeed as Christians when we become more human. In my experience religion gets off track when it focuses on an idealized concept of religion, and makes their brand the only way. Putting religion first gives permission to de-humanize people, and most religions are guilty of just that. But right up front – chapter 2 in Mark’s gospel - Jesus reminds the Pharisees, “The sabbath was made for man, not man for the sabbath.” Religion exists to serve, not to be worshipped. Even though the men at the synagogue spoke well of him, Jesus sensed their doubts. After all, Nazareth was a small town. They knew him, saw him growing up: “Is not this Joseph’s son?” Their attitude evidently put Jesus on the defensive, as well. Reading that story brought back memories of my first trip home in Oklahoma wearing my clergy collar, back to this small country town to perform the funeral and burial for my Uncle Hugh. You could see the looks on their faces, my cousins almost sneering, as if to say “Give me a break; who does he think he is?” my uncles with an expression, “Who’s he trying to fool?” At that moment I was very grateful for the words of the prayer book burial office. Certainly it was different from any service they had seen before. Usually funerals there began with a sad hymn like “If we ever meet again this side of heaven.” Uncle Hugh’s service began with Beethoven, “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee,” the piano played exuberantly by my mother! Before heading up grave yard hill, old Mr. Johnson came up and told me, “Ernest, that was the first Christian funeral I ever seen,” and at the reception my most competitive cousin said, “I understand now what you do, and if I die first, I’d be honored if you’d preside.” Not the kind of grace offered Jesus. He told the men at synagogue, “You will say, ‘Do here in your hometown the things that we’ve heard you did in Capernaum’” – which – oh, great! - was Nazareth’s main rival! Jesus tried to lower expectations: “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in his hometown, but the truth is – and off he went with such zingers, you’d think he was trying to alienate them: “There were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah. . . . with severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon.” They all knew what that meant: she was a gentile! As if to add insult to injury, he continued: “There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian” – another gentile! Right off the bat Jesus was saying that people are more important than religion, and when that’s forgotten, religion turns sour, hurts the people it’s meant to serve. In my ministry with you I keep being reminded that God is active in our relationships, that we experience meaning when we are in touch with another human being at deep levels, becoming aware that every life is precious. Our relationships with people are how we touch God’s love and care, justice related to faith. Three dear people come to mind today. Last week was the first-year anniversary of the death of Mike Ezgar’s wife, Patricia. In spite of a disease that weakened her body, leaving her unable to speak, Patsy lived with great dignity, able to be present for her children’s weddings and grandchildren’s baptisms, dying with the same peace and grace in which she lived. Those personal moments of affection and respect between us all are where we experience the holy – as sings my favorite line from Les Miserables: “to love another person is to see the face of God.” In the face of death we are confronted with the value of life and the mystery of love. Several weeks ago the door of the elevator at Los Gatos Meadows was closing as Bill and Pat Braithwaite came around the corner. He tried to tell me something, but it was too late. As the parking attendant brought my car, we met downstairs and he told me that his mother had been admitted to the Care Center there. As they drove off I was able to pop into their parking space, and take her communion. Rachel Braithwaite and her husband, William, were founding members of Saint Andrew’s, joining back when the parish met downtown over the plumbing shop in the Odd Fellows Hall. On their way back home that first Sunday, son Bob said, “Mom, I knew there were a lot of weird people in the world, but I didn’t know they had a place to meet!” Rachel loved to tell that story! Peacefully she died last week, bringing back memories of times we shared here through the years, her affectionate smiles and hugs, meeting at a deep level when her husband, Bill, died. In those moments of anguish born of love, you encounter the depths of a person’s soul. We clergy are honored to be present with you in those moments when religion is stripped away to reveal deep humanity, there to meet the holy. Bill Shawhan died suddenly, peacefully on Thursday afternoon, having lunch with his beloved Carol. A gentle man, you would never know what he experienced in World War II except for an unlighted shadow box of medals on the wall. Soft-spoken and humble, yet one of the people responsible for management at Lockheed, Bill was a faithful parishioner consistently present with Carol in worship, fellowship, education and service – recognized by most people as the captain of one of our usher teams. I’ll never forget being with the Shawhans in the Holy Land. Bill turned to Phil Taylor and said, “Isn’t it amazing that we can all be here in Old City Jerusalem having such a good time!” And Phil responded, “With this bunch you could have a good time in Gilroy!” Bill’s gracious spirit testified to all that Saint Andrew’s family has meant to him and Carol through the years It is in a person’s humanity that you see the divine. When hearts touch they produce spiritual sparks, and that’s why our coming together here is so important, not merely as ends in themselves. Our understanding of God that issues from here helps us see the miracle in each person, and give glory to God. Remember that song from “The Heavenly Host” when Jesus sings, “They look at me and miss the point – the point is life,” not religion. Religion is just the conduit. I think that’s why Jesus couldn’t do any miracles in Nazareth. The men in the synagogue were looking for a magic show – divinity, but Jesus knew his gifts had to do with bringing out their humanity. This was just “Joseph’s son,” not someone famous or powerful with a bag of tricks. They were going to toss him off the brow of the hill overlooking Nazareth, but he was so human, indistinguishable from the other men there, he could pass through their midst and go on his way, allowing himself to be vulnerable to the opinions of others while holding to his values that God loves every human being. Jesus instructs my life, reveals what is important, shows me how to live it, even as I can respect diverse thoughts and cultures and religions down through history and among us now. A great perspective comes from the Hasidic tradition of Judaism that I think we all should memorize – so good I’ll print it in EVANGEL. It goes like this: That’s a way of saying that God loves you totally and without reservation. Plus, God loves every person with the same passion and compassion as he loves you. Both together are the ultimate miracle of life. That is the revolution Jesus started in Nazareth that day and to which we are called again and again to commit ourselves in the Spirit of Christ. Copyright:
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