Not Welcome
Luke 4:14-30
Rev. Rhonda Blevins, pastor
Then Jesus, in the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee, and a report about him spread through all the surrounding regions. He began to teach in their synagogues and was praised by everyone. When he came to Nazareth, where he had been brought up, he went to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, as was his custom. He stood up to read, and the scroll of the prophet Isaiah was given to him. He unrolled the scroll and found the place where it was written:
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because he has anointed me
to bring good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to set free those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”
And he rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” He said to them, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself!’ And you will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in his hometown. But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months and there was a severe famine over all the land, yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were also many with a skin disease in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.” When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. 30 But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.______
“Mother of the year” right here . . . again.
I’ve told you about the time the police pulled me over in the car line at my kid’s preschool, right? I was speeding in the school zone . . . going 23 MPH in a 15 MPH zone. All of my kid’s preschool teachers were watching this all go down all while my preschooler was asking me, “Mommy, are you going to jail?” “Mother of the year” right here.
Then there was the day I had purchased the brand-new shirt for picture day and made sure my kid’s hair was perfectly coiffed for the pictures. He looked like a million bucks! When we got to the school and the PreK teacher opened the car door, I said, “Doesn’t he look so handsome for picture day?” She said, “Uh, picture day was yesterday.” “Mother of the year” yet again.
Well, this “mother of the year” was at it again on Friday. It was the last day before Spring Break, and the elementary school was holding its annual walkathon and field day. I’ve joined my kid every year for the walkathon. So, when I show up to the school to check in, the office manager said, “Uh, we don’t have you on the list.” “The list? What list?” I asked. “You have to sign up to volunteer to participate.” “Oh. I missed that memo. Can I sign up to volunteer now,” I asked. A perfectly reasonable query, in my estimation. The office manager looked at me like I was from Mars. “No,” she said. “We’re full.” Stunned, I wanted to make sure I understood. “So, you’re telling me I can’t walk with my kid in the walkathon.” She was growing exasperated with me. “No. You can’t walk in the walkathon.”
I left the front office and walked over to the fence where I could see the kids walking. Across two fences, I stood there and waited until I could see my kid. “Rhys!” I exclaimed. He saw me and waved back. “They won’t let me in!” I wanted my kid to know I showed up like I said I would. Before you know it, the school police officer was there. “Is there a problem here?” “No, officer, I’m just saying hello to my kid. Is that creepy?” I asked. She laughed. “No, but I can’t let you in.” “Oh I know. The office lady made it perfectly clear that I’m not welcome here.” I waved goodbye to my kid and walked away. “Mother of the year” strikes again.
I wonder, like my experience of feeling unwelcome at my kid’s school, have you ever been some place where you knew you were not welcome?
Today in our scripture lesson, we find Jesus experiencing rejection in the unlikeliest of places . . . his hometown.
In the Gospel of Luke, after Jesus is baptized by John, he heads out into the desert for 40 days where he fasts and prays and is “tempted in every way.” The very next thing that happens in Luke’s Gospel is Jesus returns to the region of Galilee, where he begins teaching and preaching and making a bit of a name for himself. And then he goes home to Nazareth where he grew up. He went to the synagogue on the Sabbath as was his practice, and he was handed a scroll containing at least part of the book of Isaiah. He opened the scroll and read from Isaiah 61:
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives
and release to the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
After he was finished reading, he said to those listening, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” That all went pretty well—they seemed impressed with Jesus saying things like, “Isn’t that Joseph’s boy?” It wasn’t until Jesus warned them that he would be unable to perform healings and miracles among them that they got mad . . . and when they started getting angry it went south quickly. They became so enraged that they planned to throw Jesus off a cliff! They dragged him to the edge of town to do just that, and then the most curious thing happened. Luke tells us that Jesus “passed through the midst of them and went on his way.”
And this is the part of the pericope where I want to hang out for a few moments today. Jesus “passed through the midst of them and went on his way.” Jesus left home. It’s what he had to do to complete his God-given mission.
In literature, every great protagonist must “leave home” in one way or another. It’s an essential part of the archetypal “hero’s journey.” In literature, it’s called “crossing the threshold,” the dividing line between the ordinary world the hero is leaving behind and the unknown world that lies ahead. Every hero’s story requires a “leaving”—a “leaving” is always necessary for there to ever be an “arriving.”
· Katniss Everdeen in The Hunger Games leaving District 13 for the Capitol where she must compete for her life,
· Odysseus being thrown off course because of a great storm in Homer’s The Odyssey,
· Atticus Finch knowing life will never be the same after defending a black man in To Kill a Mockingbird,
· Harry Potter stepping through gate 9 ¾ on his first trip to Hogwarts.
· Neo in The Matrix taking the “red pill” which will enable him to “see how deep the rabbit hole goes.”
So is it any surprise that the greatest hero of the Christian faith—Jesus from Nazareth—had to leave home so that he could accomplish his hero’s journey? Jesus “passed through the midst of them and went on his way.”
And if Jesus had to leave home to accomplish his God-given mission, why would it be any different for us? Each of us is the protagonist in our unique life’s story . . . each of us is on our hero’s journey. And because of that, everyone here knows what it’s like to leave home, to “pass through the midst” of family and friends. Everyone here knows that we must each find our own way. Just like Jesus.
That’s why I’m not too troubled when people tell me—often with a measure of sadness or disappointment—that their adult kids don’t attend church. I’ll assure the worried mom or dad that God isn’t in the sky keeping a tally of church attendance. I’ll say something like, “Each of us must find our own way.” Just like Jesus.
Think about it. You’ve found your own way. Am I right? Over and over and over again. You’ve left something that was familiar, stepped through a threshold into the unknown, conquered challenges there, grew comfortable for a time, then you started the cycle all over again. Passing through the midst of family and friends and acquaintances, going on your way.
And because each of us must go our own way, it’s a solitary journey, this spiritual life.
Ella Wheeler Scott captures this well in her poem, “Solitude.”
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air;
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go;
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all,
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life’s gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a large and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Though the spiritual journey is a solitary journey, this does not mean that it must be a lonely journey. In fact, solitude is kind of the opposite of loneliness. Solitude is being alone without feeling lonely.
Throughout the Gospels, we find Jesus retreating to a quiet place to pray. As his notoriety grew, the more the crowds pressed in on him, the more Jesus needed to find solitude.
Here’s a great definition of solitude as a spiritual discipline from Renovare:
SOLITUDE: The creation of an open, empty space in our lives by
purposefully abstaining from interaction with other human beings, so that,
freed from competing loyalties, we can be found by God.
I love this definition . . . the idea of “an open, empty space.”
In graphic design, “white space” or negative space is just as important as filled space. It lets the design “breathe” and helps the reader or viewer know where to focus. Take a look at your bulletin, for instance. Notice how on the part where there’s responsive readings, the text is inset just a little, with white space to the left. We could easily just line up the responsive part with the header above, but shifting the text ever-so-slightly to the right opens up just a little white space which helps your eyes find your place.
That’s what solitude can do for us on our spiritual journey as well. When we can open some space, when we leave part of our day’s container unfilled, we leave room for creativity, self-discovery, reflection, and we make space for the very whispers of God. This is the aloneness that leads to solitude instead of loneliness. This is the desert way, and the way of spiritual transformation. We can choose the desert way, the path of going our own way into the gift of solitude—every, single, day.
So today, what do you need to pass through or leave behind on your way to transformation and growth? I’m not suggesting it will be easy. Jesus probably didn’t enjoy nearly being thrown off a cliff by his friends and the people he grew up around. But sometimes, staying is more dangerous than leaving (just ask Jesus). What do you need to pass through or leave behind on your way to transformation and growth? It could be:
· Habits or practices
· People or a person
· Attitudes or judgments
· Wants or desires
· Comforts or causes
What do you need to pass through or leave behind on your way to transformation and growth?
May you find the courage and strength to pass through the threshold and go your own way, into the desert of spiritual transformation.