I live on the outskirts of Dallas Texas. We are surrounded by highways with lots of cars — and lots of bumper stickers. I read one the other day which said, “My boss is a Jewish carpenter.” When you drive by churches there are bulletin boards out front announcing the sermon for Sunday. One read, “Jesus saves,” another said, “Jesus is my best friend.” There are also large billboards along the roads announcing a big revival, featuring a famous preacher and the billboards invite, “Come Hear the Message Jesus Has for You.” You see his name around a lot on billboards and television, along with Honda, Miller Lite Beer, IBM, Verizon and other everyday names.
In our homes we have symbols of Jesus; statues, paintings, embroidered quotes, etc. When we come to church it’s the same thing. He’s everywhere, statues, crucifixes, hymns and the endings of prayers, “Through your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.” We are not the only ones, people all over know about him. He has a reputation for cures. We’ve heard stories of healings, or we’ve been told by people that they prayed to him and got well. Jesus also has a good press for saying wise things. Stories about him show his care for the needy and the outcast.
We have so many reminders of him everywhere we turn. All these constant references sound like a good thing; that the one who was sent from God and was God in the flesh, is so much a part of our lives, so present in daily ways, so important to us. But the opposite can be true: there is a way in which he can be everywhere, but nowhere — familiarity can breed indifference. We can take him for granted. He can be so present that he just fits comfortably into the background of our lives. He’s there, here, everywhere — like wallpaper, like our car in the parking lot, the washing machine and dryer, the news anchor on television each evening.
So, we can say like the people in his “native place,” “Oh sure, we know Jesus. He’s one of ours. Been around for years.” We have to admit though, that there are many other things on our minds every waking moment — our family responsibilities, carpooling the kids, emptying the dish washer, getting the laundry done, plus, relationships, jobs, classes, etc. For some of us, what is especially wearing us down is our struggle with our finances. There is a danger then, that Jesus may be here in his native place and we could miss him, because he so familiar, so much a part of the furnishings and we have so much else to do.
Today’s gospel is parallel to our lives and perhaps can open our eyes to what we’re missing. Jesus returns to a place where people are very familiar with him. They know his mother and family. (“Brothers and sisters” — in a close knit community, they may have been his cousins, or perhaps Joseph’s children by a previous marriage.) Jesus was part of their daily scene, someone they talked to every day. The people knew Jesus’ trade, he was the carpenter. Maybe he even repaired a roof for them or made a chair for their homes. They also knew his reputation, he had done mighty deeds and he had wisdom — or, so they heard. A lot of his reputation was made after he had left his native place.
The people who heard Jesus probably even liked him. But they weren’t willing to take the important next step, beyond familiarity, beyond knowing learned facts about him. They weren’t willing to believe that, beyond his most ordinary appearances and his, up-till-then, most ordinary life, that God was there before them, ready to do more powerful deeds for them, willing to share his wisdom with them.
What a difference it would have made for them. Maybe they would have packed up and followed him. Or, maybe they would have stayed right there, but their lives would have changed profoundly. They would have looked at one another in a new way, as God-loved neighbors. They would have treated each other better, the same way that Jesus treated people. They might have changed their priorities and not measured themselves or others by the size of their houses or the bounty of their harvest. Nothing would have been the same for them, because they would have known God, by knowing God in Jesus.
What could be more ordinary than bread and wine. There is not a lot here today, small pieces of bread and a few cups of wine. We probably serve a better grade of wine in our own homes. This ritual, these prayers, this food — so ordinary. They are so much part of our lives we can get used to them, forget what is being offered to us: the very life and the Spirit of Jesus Christ. We receive here what gave life, breath and vision to Jesus Christ — indeed, we receive Jesus Christ himself.
Maybe we can look again at that familiar billboard and its proclamation, “Jesus Saves.” The message is true. Jesus does save us: from going down blind alleys; from aimlessness; from guilt and self-incrimination; from missing God who comes in the most every day, ordinary ways to us. It’s like the way Jesus came to his neighbors and the ordinary way Christ comes to us today, in plain bread and wine.
The gospel tells us today, “So he was not able to perform any mighty deed there, apart from curing a few sick people by laying his hands on them. He was amazed at their lack of faith.” I would have thought, “curing a few sick people,” would have been a mighty deed or two! If I could be an instrument of such healing people would consider that pretty mighty. I wonder what “mighty deed” they missed? What “mighty deed” do we need in our lives right now? Dare we ask from our faith for the next “mighty deed” Jesus can do for us? What could it be?… A more lively faith? Resolution of some conflict? Better listening skills? Less anxiety about the future? Etc. Do we have faith enough to ask?
A word about the first reading. Ezekiel was one of the thousands of citizens of Jerusalem deported to Babylon by King Nebuchadnezzar in 597 BC. It was in exile that he received his call to be prophet. He received a spectacular vision of God’s glory and then told to announce to rebellious Israel that their persistence sinning would cause the destruction of the city and Temple. That was a hard message to deliver and of course he met hardness of heart and opposition. Later after Jerusalem was destroyed Ezekiel’s message became more hope-filled. He envisioned a new Temple, restored lands and the community purified of its past sins. This vision would give hope and strength to the exiles when they did return to their nation and begin the rebuilding of the Temple and the city.
Ezekiel’s message must have seemed impossible to the defeated and downcast people while they were still in exile. Everything was lost, all was hopeless, how could Ezekiel’s vision possibly come about? The message Ezekiel received from God steeled him for the possibility of rejection by his own people who were, “Hard of face and obstinate of heart.” We can see why this reading was chosen to go with today’s gospel because, like Ezekiel, Jesus meets a rebellious people and, like Ezekiel, he too is strengthened by the Spirit of God