A Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
The Rev. Patricia A. Gillespie
Jeremiah 1:4-10
1 Corinthians 14:12b-20
Luke 4:21-32
Psalm 71:1-17 or 71:1-6,15-17
The church mail this week included information about ways to support a chemical-free graduation party at a local high school. A great idea, that I'd like to support; even one I'd like our church to support. Of course, my first thought was whether any kids from our church would be among the graduates attending the party.
Remember, "Charity begins at home." We want to support our young people. I probably wouldn't ask our church to donate to a party at Picayune High School in Mississippi or at Sinethembe High School in Capetown or even at Ely Memorial High School. But Jesus might.
In today's gospel all the gifts seem to be headed out of town.
No wonder his high school buddies want to throw Jesus Josephson off the cliff. The story goes like this: Hometown boy goes on the road and makes good – heals people, feeds people, has the best talk show in town. When he comes home, Joe's boy is invited to speak and do a few of his famous magic tricks. And he speaks alright: He tells them stories about prophets and healers who helped out foreigners rather then their own people back home. And he flat refuses to do for them all the wonderful things he did when away from home. It seems the only magic trick this Jesus kid can do is a disappearing act when he's in trouble.
Charity, for Jesus, it seems, is best done away from home. He doesn't act like much of a homeboy anymore. Just look at the folks he hangs around with: not respectable building contractors and clergy like his family, but ignorant fishermen, tax collectors, foreigners, and prostitutes. This is what happens to nice young men when they go away from the safety of their hometown. He's already gone over the edge even without his buddies' help on the cliff.
Jesus has moved on to a different place and left his hometown behind. In Capernaum when Jesus preached they were astounded at his authority. They were able to receive the gift that Jesus offered, the gift that Jesus knew his hometown could not accept.
"No prophet is accepted in the prophet's hometown." It's usually easier to accept the authority of a foreign teacher than a local boy. In some ways speaking in foreign tongues is easier than the familiar language.
Perhaps it's easier to speak God's word in incomprehensible tongues as those Corinthians did, because God's word is dangerous when people really hear it.
Jeremiah is no fool. He knows that being God's prophet is dangerous business and best avoided at any cost. He knows he's likely to get thrown off a cliff or dumped in a pit somewhere.
A prophet is not a fortune teller but a seer - one who sees the truth and names it. Oh, those folks in Nazareth heard Jesus all right, but the truth was just too close to home to bear: Jesus came to change things. That's hard to hear. Jesus' miracles, like those of the prophets before him, are not on-demand, meet-our-needs magic, but signs pointing to God. That too is hard to hear.
Can you hear the fear in Nazareth? "The builder's boy next door is not what we thought he was. He's talking about the poor, the blind, and the captive. He's talking about others instead of about us! He's taking what should belong to us and giving it to others. He's different, He says the world is going to be different. God help us! we might have to be different too!"
In Capernaum they were astonished at a fascinating stranger. In Nazareth they were filled with rage and fear at the transformation of the familiar.
That's what God does. God transforms the familiar: A baby in a barn is our savior. Bread and wine become God in our hands. You and I become holy.
Yes, holy. It's dangerous and frightening and awesome. The Apostle Paul says that every one of us has a spiritual gift. Maybe you speak in tongues or maybe you speak with lonely old women. Some may craft heartwarming words for the pulpit while others knit warm hats for needy children. You have your own special gift that makes you holy. There are many spiritual gifts and all are meant to be shared.
Paul writes, "You may give thanks well enough, but the other person is not built up."
Our gifts are not to be hoarded at home, but used to reach out beyond ourselves, to build up others with the good news of God's love.
We receive these holy gifts in our ordinary, familiar hometown lives: in our families, in our local churches. In this sense, charity (the root of the word is ‘gift') does begin at home. Jesus too experienced charity beginning at home: Even before he was born, his mother sang about God turning the world upside down. The words from Isaiah that Jesus read in Nazareth are in clear harmony with Mary's Magnificat.
Jesus took the gifts he received at home in his good Jewish upbringing and gave those gifts to the world.
Charity does begin at home, but it must not end there.