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| Nazareth as it appears today |
You have to hand it to Jesus. He has an uncanny knack for getting folks riled up. As we pick up our Epiphany lesson from where we left off last week (John 4:21-30), Jesus seems to be basking in the sunshine of approval from the hometown crowd in Nazareth. All are speaking well of him and are amazed at his gracious sermon on Isaiah. I’ll bet they’re whispering to one another, “You know, I knew him when he was just a little tyke. I always knew he’d be a famous prophet one day. In fact, I encouraged him!”
But even as most of the folks beam with pride over the local boy whose made good, a few just can’t resist the temptation to “dis” their favorite son. “Wait a minute,” they say. “I knew this kid when he was in diapers. He’s no big deal. He’s just the son of a poor working stiff. No proper education. Closest this Jesus got to being a prophet is being the grandnephew of a second-class priest from a crappy little town out in the sticks somewhere. I mean, where does he get off preaching in our synagogue..?”
Jesus, of course, pics up on the trolls’ discontent. He could point out that he’d observed all the purity laws, actually studied with scholars at the Temple in Jerusalem[i], and has been baptized by the senior prophet on the scene, John the Baptist. But no. Instead, Jesus goes on the attack.
Jesus knows that they’re indulging in one of the oldest sins in the book—jealousy. They just can’t stand it that some other towns benefitted from miracles their homeboy performed. It just eats them up. Jesus throws a little gas on the fire when he points out that God has historically been generous to people “not like us.” God has had the audacity to love sinners and foreigners and outsiders—people who aren’t the chosen ones, people who shouldn’t be entitled to any form of assistance from “our” God. People who don’t deserve to be blessed.
We humans seem to be very sensitive when we see benefits going to other folks. Our politicians know this, too, and for years they’ve been playing on this weakness of ours. Screw compassion, they tell us. Don’t let the undeserving get away with anything. Our hard-earned tax money is going to welfare cheats, illegal aliens, and foreigners who hate us and our probably at this minute plotting diabolical acts of terrorism against our great nation. Don’t give ‘em another penny!
By playing on our jealousy, pride, and arrogance, some have convinced us to defund the undeserving. In so doing, we may be defunding the deserving, too. If politicians can get us to hate the “other,” they can probably talk us into policies which will ultimately be against our own best interests.
As soon as Jesus points out God's history of indiscriminate goodness, the previously supportive crowd wants to throw him off a cliff. I think his warning to the synagogue of Nazareth is a warning to us, too. Faithfulness to God has to mean love and compassion for our neighbors. We don’t get to pick whom God loves. I’ll admit that there will always be some who will game the system as long as there is a system to game; nevertheless, the system was put in place so that no one should fall through the cracks or go hungry or homeless.
Our challenge today is to decide whether we want to base our relationship with society on empathy and mercy or on suspicion, judgment, and self-interest. It may sound facile or trite, but we couldn’t pick a better process for discernment than the old 19th century query:
“What would Jesus do?”
God be with you, my friend. Stay safe.
[i]
Luke 2:41-52
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