Series B, Proper 9: Ezekiel 2:1-5; 2 Cor. 12:-10; Mark 6:1-13
St. Mark has a remarkably ordinary way of depicting the
part of the Creed we often take for granted: He was made man. Is this not
Joseph’s son? Yup, that’s Jesus, the ordinary carpenter’s son. When he’s hungry
his stomach growls like yours. When loved ones die he weeps like you do. After
walking around all day he’s tired and worn out like you. Cut him and he bleeds
like you. He’s like you in every respect…yet without sin.
Next to the Lutheran hymn writers of the Reformation,
I’ve found that country music singers understand this better than most things
that pass for Christian music out there today…
Cause I heard
Jesus he drank wine
And I bet we'd get along just fine
He could calm a storm and heal the blind
And I bet he'd understand a heart like mine
And I bet we'd get along just fine
He could calm a storm and heal the blind
And I bet he'd understand a heart like mine
But not his own family in his hometown. They don’t get
Jesus. What a contrast from last week’s readings. Last week: faith in Jesus.
This week: rejection. Last week the believing un-named woman and Jairus
believed and confessed. Jesus was their Savior: doing extraordinary things for
them in the most ordinary of ways. This week: unbelief and scandal.
Nazareth was about as ordinary as a town could be.
Simple. Lowly. Humble. A town of little wealth. Just like her most famous
resident: Jesus.In Nazareth People knew Jesus. They remembered when He was just a wee little Hebrew. He’d played with kids in the streets. He attended the synagogue. Everyone knew Mary and Joseph. He’d probably done most of their carpentry work. And now Jesus, the wandering teacher comes back. No homecoming party. No sign on the way into town that reads: Nazareth: hometown of Jesus Christ!
It wasn’t just that Jesus
rubbed the hometown crowd the wrong way. Ruffled a few feathers. No, they took offense at him. They were
disgusted. Reviled. Scandalized. Where did He get the wisdom of Solomon? Where
did He learn to teach like Moses? How can plain old carpenter’s hands do such
great things? He’s so ordinary.
We’re no different; we think holiness is something unnatural or ethereal, something surreal, above and beyond us. That’s a testimony to how much sin has corrupted us. We’ve become so accustom to sin we call it “normal,” as if that’s what it means to be human. “We’re born that way,” we sing with pride. But in truth, sin and death are abnormal. So, along comes God in human flesh, not simply a sinless man but God in the flesh, and He is unrecognizable.
This puzzles people, and well it should. Jesus takes our twisted notions of holiness wads them up and throws them in the dust. Jesus turns our notions about how God works upside down and inside out. No displays of power, no coercion. Jesus didn’t do great miracles in Nazareth save a few healings. He doesn’t use miracles to coerce people. The miracles are for the broken few, not the skeptical many. Jesus doesn’t put on a show. He’s not a used-car salesman; He needs no gimmicks.
And neither does His Church. Learn well from this. You
can dress the up the Gospel all you want but then it ceases to be the Gospel.
Evangelism needs no gimmicks. Christ’s Word and Sacraments need no parlor
tricks. Yes, share the Gospel. Tell people their sins are forgiven; Jesus died
for you. Invite them to church. But know this: Christ Crucified will never be
palatable to our culture any more than Jesus was in his hometown. The Gospel is
far too scandalous. Free forgiveness is absolutely outrageous. People will be
offended today just as they were in Nazareth.
Jesus knows this. His disciples knew it too. So Jesus
gives the apostles an exit strategy if they aren’t welcome – shake the dust off
your feet and move on. Jesus sending out the 12 foreshadows the church being
sent out. We carry the same message: Christ Crucified for you and for the
world. It’s simple, really. Jesus does His saving work in the most unlikely,
ordinary ways: water and bread and wine and words.
His holiness is hidden in weakness. God’s great glory is
hidden in suffering. This is the great mystery of the Gospel: the greatest gift
in the world and yet people reject it.
Look at the Word Jesus gives us; it’s vulnerable and rejectable. It’s like seed in soil that can be choked out or scorched or eaten up by birds. Nothing flashy or shiny. No golden plates delivered by angels. No strange visions in caves. Nothing to make us go: oooooh aaahhhhh.
Like Jesus in the hometown synagogue, the Scriptures are easily dismissed by people seeking “something more.” It’s simply a cobbled collection of sixty-six books assembled over more than 1500 or echoing one constant refrain: God’s promises for you in Jesus. The glorious Word is hidden under the frailty of men.
And look at how the Word comes to us in weakness – Word, Baptismal water, Eucharistic bread and wine. The strength is hidden. The glory muted. The gift is rejectable.
This is how God has chosen to deal with us – hiddenly,
quietly, gently, humbly, rejectably. You may want it some other way; you may
want more; but there is nothing more than what Christ has given you. For this
is the way God has provides for you. This way your faith, hope, and trust rests
not in displays of power but in the hidden strength of the cross.
For
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
and no beauty that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
and no beauty that we should desire him.
He was despised and rejected by men;
a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely
he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
So ordinary. So weak. So humble. So poor and lowly. Jesus’ rejection in Nazareth points forward to his greater rejection on the cross. And by his rejection you are redeemed. He is betrayed and you are blessed. He becomes the least among men and you are named greatest in the Kingdom of God.
This is how the Scriptures depict the “victorious life” of the Christian. Not that our prayers are answered the way a can of Coke comes out of vending machine. Not that we have no ills or troubles in the world. Not that we don’t fail many times over. Not that we don’t suffer and even die. But that in all these things we are content in the fact that God’s grace, His undeserved mercy toward us in Christ, is far more sufficient than anything and everything else in the world.
For it is through these backwards, upside down, ordinary
ways that Jesus is working extraordinarily good things for you.
Your Baptism may only look like plain water. But behind
it lies the power of sins forgiven, washed away by the blood of Christ crucified.
The Absolution may only look like words spoken by a sinner. And yet through that sinner Christ’s Word Christ announces the forgive all your sins.
The Lord’s Supper you receive may only look like plain bread and wine. But behind it lies the power of the open, empty tomb – the crucified and risen Christ who conquers death forever.
How can water, word, bread and wine do such great things? The Crucified and Risen Christ comes to you, his family, once again in the most ordinary of ways and fills the Church with Himself.
For your salvation from sin,
death and hell is found in none other than this ordinary, carpenter’s son from
Nazareth. Let us not be offended by him.
In the Name of + Jesus. Amen.
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