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SERMONS
Fourth Sunday of Epiphany
January 31, 2010
By The Rev. Alston Johnson
There is a story from the wisdom tradition of the Rabbis about a man who was inspired by God. In his search for God, this man eventually left everything earthly and wandered to the gates of the vast mystery of life - heaven.
He knocked at the gates, and from within came a voice, "What do you want here?"
The man said, "I have proclaimed your greatness, your beauty, your truth, in the ears of mortals, but they were deaf to me - they would not listen. So I have come to you that you yourself might hear me and reply."
"Turn back," came the voice within. "There is no ear for you here. I have sunk my hearing in the deafness of mortals."
Sometimes we might wonder if Jesus would really understand what it is to walk a mile in our moccasins, as the old saying goes. Actually, some times, we may not want Jesus to know what it means to walk a mile in our moccasins. If we can keep him holy enough, and far away enough, caught up somewhere in the heavens, then there really is no traffic between heaven and earth, and I can keep heaven far enough away from the earth I call my own so that Jesus does not complicate the good little arrangement I have down here. God's call to me can remain something of a dream that keeps me company.
However, for the disciple of Christ, for those called to follow, Jesus' path does not always lead simply to heaven, before that path leads home, to Nazareth. Sometimes walking a mile in Jesus' moccasins leads us right back home.
In this morning's Gospel we have a continuation from last week's Gospel.
It's sabbath day in the synagogue at Nazareth. Jesus is back in his home town with a band of disciples. So many of the faces in the synagogue are familiar to him, and he is standing in front of people who know him. Jesus comes to the lectern and reads a passage of Scripture; he chooses something from Isaiah.
"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 let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."
This is a passage known to the congregation, perhaps memorized by many living in a Roman occupied Israel; perhaps something of a manifesto for some who believe a Messiah is coming who will break the occupation. A Messiah who will give them the freedom to live as God's chosen people.
Folks are expecting comfortable words. Folks are expecting for Jesus to walk a mile in their moccasins, and that he will confirm their partriotism, their sense of religious identity. Jesus tells them the Scripture has been fulfilled.
Jesus says, "Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet's hometown." Rather than walk a mile in their shoes, Jesus invites them to walk a mile in God's shoes. Just when they feel that their loyalties have been confirmed, Jesus tells them of two stories that they know well, stories from their history.
One of them concerns Elijah the prophet during a time of drought and famine. It's not safe for him to seek help from his own people. All of them are worshiping a false god by order of their king, who has put a price on Elijah's head. So the Lord sends Elijah to Zarephath, to a Gentile widow, a poor outsider. She may be a Gentile, she may be poor, but unlike Elijah's own people, she recognizes and respects him as a true prophet of God.
The second story makes a similar point, but even more strongly. Naaman the Syrian is not only a Gentile, he's an enemy army commander whose forces have just defeated Israel. Yet when he comes, however reluctantly, to the prophet Elisha, seeking recovery from his skin disease, he ends up cured by the power of God. Like the widow from Zarephath, he knows a true prophet when he encounters one, and he confesses his faith in the God of Israel.
Jesus is drawing back the veil for his hometown congregation. Jesus is unequivocally telling them stories from their history when the people of God refused to recognize a prophet in their midst, but that prophet was acknowledged by such unlikely sorts as a pagan widow or an enemy general.
Jesus is offering them a warning about making assumptions. Jesus is warning them not to assume that walking a mile in their moccasins and God's moccasins is one in the same. God may not be seeing what they see. It is the Gentiles in Capernaum who welcome Jesus as a prophet; it may be that his hometown neighbors cannot do that because their loyalties and self-satisfaction make it impossible for them. They are deaf to the truth of their own Scriptures.
Barely has Jesus said this when the congregation explodes in rage. They jump up, drag Jesus outside, and haul him to a cliff, and are ready to throw him off. Would someone please rid us of this meddlesome preacher.
In the end someone answers that calling on a hill outside Jerusalem; for the time being Jesus goes to Capernaum, to the Gentiles, who are not deaf to his words.
In our lives we must recognize that to walk a mile with God, might mean walking a mile away from all that we have come to hold dear; that there is a "deafness" in our lives to the words that would save, regardless of how well we construct the "religious" side of our lives. In the end, the living God will not be bound by our expectations. Jesus is telling us that at times it is the outsider who will have the clearest view, and who will not be deaf to prophetic words of transformation.
I recently heard a wise friend say, "So much of life is the business of excluding people . . . of sorting folks . . . so that some are in and some are out." It struck me. Jesus is offering us, those who have made religious commitments, a warning about seeking to contain God's transforming love according to pedigree. God's work will get done whether we like it or not, with whomever we like, or dislike.
Walking a mile with Jesus means that at times we will be misunderstood, even by those who assume they know us best.
Joining Jesus in the disciples' journey is not simply to join a group of the like-minded who gaze at heaven upon earth. It is sometimes like banging on the door and shouting, "They don't listen to me, they don't understand, they are all lost and I am found."
And the voice replies, "No, no. I have sunk my hearing in the deafness of mortals . . . that is where you will find me listening to you . . . deep in their refusal to listen . . . that is when I will be listening to you." When you speak my words to them and they cannot hear you - that is when I am with you.
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