January 30, 2010

(Luke 4:21-30)

The passage just read speaks to a central human truth.  In its lines, we learn something both disconcerting and ultimately hopeful about the nature of Adam and Eve’s descendents.  We discover our predisposition to smallness and our capacity for maturity.  The scene is set as follows:

A thoughtful, compelling, charismatic young man comes out of an obscure town and begins interpreting Holy Scripture and redefining God’s intent.  He speaks with clarity and authority and his audiences grow in both size and devotion.  He returns to his hometown, enters the one synagogue, the established center of religious thought and practice and moves the congregation significantly.  They are taken with his message, his style, his conviction, his ease and confidence.  The body gathered congratulate themselves on having produced such an exemplary spokesman, a mighty prophet for a new age.  He represents them well and they feel a proprietary connection to him. They begin to bask in the glow of his gifts and then they begin to appropriate some of his skills to themselves.  He’s one of us.  He’s like us.  We’re like him.

Ahhh, he should do as we suggest.  Suddenly, Jesus of Nazareth, Jesus son of local carpenter Joseph, is treated like the quarterback of the hometown team.  He’s the one with talent.  He’s the one with the legs and the arm and the quick reflexes.  He knows the key plays and the strengths and weaknesses of the opposition, but the crowd, the “fans” feel justified in giving him direction and advice.  Jesus, you need to preach to us the sermon you gave in Capernaum.  Jesus, those miracles you performed on the road, you need to do those here.  Jesus, remember the healings you did last week two cities over, well, do that same kind of thing here and now.  You need to listen to us and do as we say. 

A person with talent, skill and purpose comes among the body, rises up from the body and then community moves to control and influence that person’s message and activity.  As long as the “Golden one” meets our expectations we are avid supporters.  But, if he or she deviates from our ideas and ideals, we become agitated and unfriendly.  History and experience tell us that humankind wants its heroes and leaders to behave in predictable, comforting ways.  Apparently, our default is set to ease and status quo.  It’s switched away from challenge and change.  We like control.  We like calling the shots.  We like making the plan and overseeing the execution.  We have real confidence in our vision and resist giving it up to another idea.  Our nature suggests that we desire heroes, we look for compelling leaders, we yearn to be moved by excellent, noble examples, but we want our stars, our prophets, our leaders, even our Lord to conform to our expectations.

We want to be encouraged and affirmed, comforted and assured.  We want to be told that we are doing well. In our heart of hearts, we want to be congratulated, not prodded.  Critique and growth opportunities are rarely embraced and seldom sought after. 

Jesus’ experience in Nazareth is not surprising.  He comes with a pleasing appearance and a persuasive voice.  He has undeniable talent and apparent affection for the people.  They rally around him.  They throw their full support behind him.  They wait for him to praise them for their devotion.  They wait for his approval and appreciation.  They are disappointed and then angered when he suggests they have taken a wrong tack.  The people of Nazareth feel betrayed.  One of their own has been elevated and gifted.  They have taken him to their hearts and he has found them wanting.  Their response to this perceived slight is to react in anger and with well-defined resentment.

This reaction is understandable and reasonably predictable, but it is not inevitable.  When we are given negative critique, we have choices to make.  Created in the image of God, we have powerful resources wired into our being.  We have the innate capacity to reason, to focus, to consider and decide.  We have the intellect to determine whether the hard evaluation is warranted.  We have the neurological functioning necessary to make dispassionate observation and conclusions.  Rather than reacting from a place of weakness and fear, we can make calm and logical judgments.  Could I do better?  Would there be positive benefit if I changed in the way suggested?  Along with our God given intellect and ability to reason, we have the gift of will.  Unlike other species, we are not entirely ruled by a limited number of behavioral choices.  We are not completely governed by instincts.  Our humanity brings us the opportunity to choose our response.  We can opt for anger and frustration when we encounter disappointment and unflattering evaluation or we can select reflection.

We can say maybe there is truth in this critique.  Maybe if I change my outlook or my behavior, my life gets better in ways I haven’t considered.  With reason and free will comes a third gift from our creator.  Our heavenly father has promised us that he is always with us.  He has pledged through standing covenants that he will not abandon us or let us fall into the abyss of despair and isolation.  This eternal assurance supports us and should give us confidence.  We don’t have to be perfect or correct in all our judgments and behaviors all the time.  It is expected and acceptable for us to be wrong and misguided.  It doesn’t affect our place in God’s affection.  Therefore, dear friends, when we find ourselves reproved, we need not come undone or agitated.  We can recalibrate and adjust.  We can make amends and move ahead.

In Nazareth, in Israel in the time of Elijah and later in the time of Elisha, the people didn’t recognize these truths.  They were young in their self-awareness.  They were young in their faith.  They reacted poorly to helpful admonition.  They closed their ears and their minds.  They gave away their opportunity to grow in spirit and strength.  They didn’t trust their capacity to charge for the better.  They didn’t trust their essential belovedness.  Those people wouldn’t try something new relying on the goodness of God and the power he wove into their being.  Elijah, Elisha, and Jesus were disappointed by their followers.  But that dynamic is not always repeated.  They are believers, there are communities of faith who draw strength from one another and from God’s Holy Word and the example of his Son and take reproach as motivation for growth.  There are places where faith is strong, so challenge is not avoided.  One of those places is here.

On December 6^th, in our annual parish address, I offered hard critique about this body and how we were living our mission.  I fretted.  I prayed long about that message and with trepidation, I expressed concerns.  The response was not joyful or thunderous, but neither was I escorted to the brow of the hill so that I might be hurled off the cliff.  Instead, there was quiet.  At the December vestry meeting, there was quiet.  At the vestry retreat in early January, there was initial quiet.  But then, good, thoughtful discussion followed.  Decisions were made.  Will was evoked.  Faith was called forth and a new vision emerged.  A corrected course, an experiment was brought before this body.  This friendly, comfortable place was encouraged to think deeper and go wider.  This month, committees and small groups took up the critique and began to make the vision real.  This year we will see changes in our programs, in our intentions and in our faith life. 

Sometimes we are encouraged and affirmed.  Sometimes we are chastised and challenged.  Our loving father, our saving Lord, their life-giving Spirit do both in love.  They affirm and they challenge for our ultimate benefit.  The almighty united Trinity wants all good things for us.  With this assurance, when we are nudged, needled, smacked by unflattering, unfavorable critique we can respond with thoughtful, accepting hearts and open discerning minds.  We can rise to the challenge, considering its merits and our proactive response.  Counting on our sure relationship with a protecting God, drawing strength from a faith-filled community, we can answer any dilemma.  We can grow every day, more and more into the full stature of Christ.  We need not run from the better, deeper, wider wide.  We can travel that road together. 

Clothed with reason and will, armed with God’s abiding love for us, we can accept and be amazed by the Son’s gracious words as well as his pointed critique.  So, dear friends, let us be the widow of Zarephath.  Let us be Naaman the Syrian.  Let us be the followers our Lord deserves.  Amen.