A Prophet Without Honor?
Today’s Gospel is a continuation of what we read last week. Remember that Jesus had been teaching in the synagogues in Galilee and “was praised by all.” Then He returned to Nazareth, His home town. He went into the synagogue on the Sabbath day and read from the prophet Isaiah.
“The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.” Then He said, “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” In other words, “Here I am. I’m Him.”
Jesus began his ministry "on the road", and he hasn't been "without honor". He's been very successful. He's gotten new followers everywhere He's been. They love Him. Then He comes home. Suddenly, the crowds are a lot tougher. They don't want to hear Him talk. They want miracles. They expect some kind of traveling magic show. "Why doesn't He heal somebody?" "Why doesn't He walk on water or turn water into wine?" "Where's the magic?" "Where's the healing?" "Where are the card tricks?" "Why doesn't He cut an apostle in half and put him back together again?"
"This guy's no big deal. He's just Joseph's son. We remember Him running around the carpenter's shop, getting in the way. He's just Jesus." What does he mean “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing?” Is He claiming to be the one?”
To make things worse, He reminds them Elijah wasn’t sent to help the widows of Israel, but he was sent to Sidon. Elisha the prophet didn’t heal the lepers in Israel, just Naaman the Syrian. He seems to be saying that the Messiah of the Jews isn’t really there for the Jews at all.
The next thing you know, they're trying to throw Him over a cliff. A prophet's not without honor except in his own town, indeed!
Jesus was dealing with something called "human nature". It wasn't Him. It wasn't the townspeople. It's just the way we are. The better we know someone, the less impressed we are with them. We knew them when. We knew them before they got famous. We've seen them without their makeup.
I can relate to that. Don't get me wrong. I'm not comparing myself to Jesus in any way. But, as a deacon, my experience has been that the better people know me, the less likely they are to take me seriously as a minister. With the exception of my wife, who supports everything I do no matter how stupid it may be, my influence seems to increase with people the less they know me. Just ask my kids.
Here at St. Bernadette, you sit very patiently in your seats, listening to what I’ve got to say, hoping that maybe this time it will be worth listening to. But, face it, if a missionary was standing here, or a visiting priest, or if the Archbishop were here, you’d be listening much more intently. After all, you’ve heard me before. I’m familiar. I’ve spoken at other parishes. Trust me, I’m not any better a preacher there than I am here, but people just pay more attention to someone new. Why do you think that for really important collections, the Church likes to send in visiting speakers?
I'm afraid Jesus is experiencing something today very similar to our Gospel story. Ever since the second Vatican Council, the Church has been presenting us with a kinder, gentler Jesus. The emphasis has been on His warm and fuzzy side. Jesus is our brother. Jesus is our friend. And that's true. He's all of that. But, have we gotten so familiar with Jesus that we don't think about His serious side? Have the modern pictures of the smiling Jesus, the soccer-playing Jesus, the cartoon Jesus made us forget the real Jesus, the one hanging back there on the cross? In just a few minutes, when we recite the Creed, we'll say these words. "He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead."
He'll be the judge of how and where we'll spend eternity. Since none of us deserves to live forever in paradise, we hope and pray that He'll be merciful. The question is, "Just how merciful will He be?"
Have we all gotten so familiar with Jesus that we don’t take his words seriously? Jesus is the Son of God. God is love. Therefore, Jesus is also love. But, what’s that mean?
In our second reading today, the reading that’s chosen by about nine out of ten couples for their wedding, Paul tells us that love is patient. Love is kind. Love isn’t jealous, or pompous, or inflated, or rude. It doesn’t seek its own interests. It’s not quick-tempered and doesn’t brood over injury. It doesn’t rejoice over wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Most important of all, love never fails.
But love doesn’t equal leniency. Remember, Christ died for our sins. Doesn’t that obligate us in some way? In the fifteenth chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus tells us to love one another as He has loved us. In that same passage He says that there is no greater love than to lay down you life for a friend, which He was about to do. He’s telling us we have to be willing to lay down OUR lives for HIM. He also says “You are my friends if you do what I tell you.” I think that’s the key. If I were only allowed to have one scripture passage to reflect on for the rest of my earthly life, I think I would choose that one.
He didn’t say “You are my friends if you do what I tell you as long as it isn’t too inconvenient.” He didn’t say “do what I tell you as long as you think it’s ok.” He didn’t say “do what I tell you, but what you do in the bedroom, or what you do with your own body is none of my business.” He said “DO WHAT I TELL YOU.” “Thou shalt not kill.” “Thou shall not commit adultery.”
He left us a Church with Peter as the first Pope and the other Apostles, except Judas, as its Bishops. He told Peter, “You are Peter (the word Peter means rock), and on this rock I will build my Church. He told all of the Apostles, “Whoever hears you, hears me.” “What you bind on earth will be bound in heaven.” That’s our Church. That’s what He left for us. He left the Church in the care of the Holy Spirit to guide us along the path to heaven. The Spirit guarantees that the Church, speaking through the Pope and his Bishops, can’t be wrong when it speaks on faith and morals. Even the gates of hell can’t prevail against it. We don’t get to decide what’s right and wrong when it comes to Jesus’ teachings, passed on to us through the Church. What we have to realize is that what Jesus tells us is for our own good. Sometimes it’s not easy. Sometimes it’s downright painful. But it’s done with love.
When you tell your two-year-old child not to run with scissors, or not to play with matches, or not to talk to strangers, you’re not being mean. You’re not being arbitrary. You’re doing your best to keep the child from getting hurt. When you tell your fourteen-year-old that she has to be home by 11:00, you’re not trying to spoil her fun. You’re looking out for her. You love your kids. You don’t want them to get hurt. Jesus doesn’t want us to get hurt, either. But we’ve come to think of Him as our brother, our pal. Surely He didn’t really mean to give us all these rules, did he?
But, it’s that familiarity thing again. In trying to be all warm and fuzzy, the Church has lost some of its mystery; some of its authority. You may have seen this story in this week’s St. Louis Review. Archbishop Tim Dolan, our former auxiliary Bishop was giving a talk in Rome a couple of weeks ago. He said, "Maybe the greatest threat to the church is not heresy, not dissent, not secularism, not even moral relativism, but this sanitized, feel-good boutique, therapeutic spirituality that makes no demands, calls for no sacrifice, asks for no conversion, entails no battle against sin, but only soothes and affirms.”
Like the citizens of Nazareth, many of us feel like we know Jesus so well, that He loves us so much, that He would never judge us harshly, no matter what we do in this life. Unfortunately, that’s just not true. The Archbishop’s right and, as usual, he said it very well. A religion that makes no demands, calls for no sacrifices, ask for no conversion, and entails no battle against sin really isn’t much of a religion at all.
In another article in this week’s Review called “Dear Father”, someone writes that he’s “hurt and disappointed” because his pastor wouldn’t hear his confession over the telephone. Nothing against the letter writer because he’s just a reflection of the times we live in, but have we gotten so casual about our faith that we think we can receive the sacraments over the phone? What next? Email confessions? Marriage over the internet?
I don’t think anyone wants to go back to the days when Church was all hell fire and brimstone; when we thought that it was almost impossible for anyone to get into heaven. But the idea that everyone’s going there is just as wrong. Jesus said He would come back to judge us. He left us a perfectly good instruction book. It’s called the Bible. B-I-B-L-E “Basic Information Before Leaving Earth.” Everything we need to know is in there. If it’s unclear, then the Church, in its 2,000 year history, has given us an explanation. Remember, “Whoever hears you, hears Me.”
I believe that Jesus has a sense of humor. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing up here. But I also believe that Jesus is Lord. He’s the Son of God, the Word made flesh, the king of kings, the Prince of Peace. He loves you and me, but He’s also going to come back to judge each one of us. I doubt that there will be a lot of joking around on that last day. We hope and pray that He’s merciful. But we’ve got to do our part, too. Like the parent who sets a curfew that’s never late enough, Jesus left us instructions that are much too hard for us to follow without His help. Thanks be to God!
“The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because He has anointed me to bring glad tidings to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim liberty to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free and to proclaim a year acceptable to the Lord.” Then He said, “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.” In other words, “Here I am. I’m Him.”
Jesus began his ministry "on the road", and he hasn't been "without honor". He's been very successful. He's gotten new followers everywhere He's been. They love Him. Then He comes home. Suddenly, the crowds are a lot tougher. They don't want to hear Him talk. They want miracles. They expect some kind of traveling magic show. "Why doesn't He heal somebody?" "Why doesn't He walk on water or turn water into wine?" "Where's the magic?" "Where's the healing?" "Where are the card tricks?" "Why doesn't He cut an apostle in half and put him back together again?"
"This guy's no big deal. He's just Joseph's son. We remember Him running around the carpenter's shop, getting in the way. He's just Jesus." What does he mean “Today this scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing?” Is He claiming to be the one?”
To make things worse, He reminds them Elijah wasn’t sent to help the widows of Israel, but he was sent to Sidon. Elisha the prophet didn’t heal the lepers in Israel, just Naaman the Syrian. He seems to be saying that the Messiah of the Jews isn’t really there for the Jews at all.
The next thing you know, they're trying to throw Him over a cliff. A prophet's not without honor except in his own town, indeed!
Jesus was dealing with something called "human nature". It wasn't Him. It wasn't the townspeople. It's just the way we are. The better we know someone, the less impressed we are with them. We knew them when. We knew them before they got famous. We've seen them without their makeup.
I can relate to that. Don't get me wrong. I'm not comparing myself to Jesus in any way. But, as a deacon, my experience has been that the better people know me, the less likely they are to take me seriously as a minister. With the exception of my wife, who supports everything I do no matter how stupid it may be, my influence seems to increase with people the less they know me. Just ask my kids.
Here at St. Bernadette, you sit very patiently in your seats, listening to what I’ve got to say, hoping that maybe this time it will be worth listening to. But, face it, if a missionary was standing here, or a visiting priest, or if the Archbishop were here, you’d be listening much more intently. After all, you’ve heard me before. I’m familiar. I’ve spoken at other parishes. Trust me, I’m not any better a preacher there than I am here, but people just pay more attention to someone new. Why do you think that for really important collections, the Church likes to send in visiting speakers?
I'm afraid Jesus is experiencing something today very similar to our Gospel story. Ever since the second Vatican Council, the Church has been presenting us with a kinder, gentler Jesus. The emphasis has been on His warm and fuzzy side. Jesus is our brother. Jesus is our friend. And that's true. He's all of that. But, have we gotten so familiar with Jesus that we don't think about His serious side? Have the modern pictures of the smiling Jesus, the soccer-playing Jesus, the cartoon Jesus made us forget the real Jesus, the one hanging back there on the cross? In just a few minutes, when we recite the Creed, we'll say these words. "He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead."
He'll be the judge of how and where we'll spend eternity. Since none of us deserves to live forever in paradise, we hope and pray that He'll be merciful. The question is, "Just how merciful will He be?"
Have we all gotten so familiar with Jesus that we don’t take his words seriously? Jesus is the Son of God. God is love. Therefore, Jesus is also love. But, what’s that mean?
In our second reading today, the reading that’s chosen by about nine out of ten couples for their wedding, Paul tells us that love is patient. Love is kind. Love isn’t jealous, or pompous, or inflated, or rude. It doesn’t seek its own interests. It’s not quick-tempered and doesn’t brood over injury. It doesn’t rejoice over wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Most important of all, love never fails.
But love doesn’t equal leniency. Remember, Christ died for our sins. Doesn’t that obligate us in some way? In the fifteenth chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus tells us to love one another as He has loved us. In that same passage He says that there is no greater love than to lay down you life for a friend, which He was about to do. He’s telling us we have to be willing to lay down OUR lives for HIM. He also says “You are my friends if you do what I tell you.” I think that’s the key. If I were only allowed to have one scripture passage to reflect on for the rest of my earthly life, I think I would choose that one.
He didn’t say “You are my friends if you do what I tell you as long as it isn’t too inconvenient.” He didn’t say “do what I tell you as long as you think it’s ok.” He didn’t say “do what I tell you, but what you do in the bedroom, or what you do with your own body is none of my business.” He said “DO WHAT I TELL YOU.” “Thou shalt not kill.” “Thou shall not commit adultery.”
He left us a Church with Peter as the first Pope and the other Apostles, except Judas, as its Bishops. He told Peter, “You are Peter (the word Peter means rock), and on this rock I will build my Church. He told all of the Apostles, “Whoever hears you, hears me.” “What you bind on earth will be bound in heaven.” That’s our Church. That’s what He left for us. He left the Church in the care of the Holy Spirit to guide us along the path to heaven. The Spirit guarantees that the Church, speaking through the Pope and his Bishops, can’t be wrong when it speaks on faith and morals. Even the gates of hell can’t prevail against it. We don’t get to decide what’s right and wrong when it comes to Jesus’ teachings, passed on to us through the Church. What we have to realize is that what Jesus tells us is for our own good. Sometimes it’s not easy. Sometimes it’s downright painful. But it’s done with love.
When you tell your two-year-old child not to run with scissors, or not to play with matches, or not to talk to strangers, you’re not being mean. You’re not being arbitrary. You’re doing your best to keep the child from getting hurt. When you tell your fourteen-year-old that she has to be home by 11:00, you’re not trying to spoil her fun. You’re looking out for her. You love your kids. You don’t want them to get hurt. Jesus doesn’t want us to get hurt, either. But we’ve come to think of Him as our brother, our pal. Surely He didn’t really mean to give us all these rules, did he?
But, it’s that familiarity thing again. In trying to be all warm and fuzzy, the Church has lost some of its mystery; some of its authority. You may have seen this story in this week’s St. Louis Review. Archbishop Tim Dolan, our former auxiliary Bishop was giving a talk in Rome a couple of weeks ago. He said, "Maybe the greatest threat to the church is not heresy, not dissent, not secularism, not even moral relativism, but this sanitized, feel-good boutique, therapeutic spirituality that makes no demands, calls for no sacrifice, asks for no conversion, entails no battle against sin, but only soothes and affirms.”
Like the citizens of Nazareth, many of us feel like we know Jesus so well, that He loves us so much, that He would never judge us harshly, no matter what we do in this life. Unfortunately, that’s just not true. The Archbishop’s right and, as usual, he said it very well. A religion that makes no demands, calls for no sacrifices, ask for no conversion, and entails no battle against sin really isn’t much of a religion at all.
In another article in this week’s Review called “Dear Father”, someone writes that he’s “hurt and disappointed” because his pastor wouldn’t hear his confession over the telephone. Nothing against the letter writer because he’s just a reflection of the times we live in, but have we gotten so casual about our faith that we think we can receive the sacraments over the phone? What next? Email confessions? Marriage over the internet?
I don’t think anyone wants to go back to the days when Church was all hell fire and brimstone; when we thought that it was almost impossible for anyone to get into heaven. But the idea that everyone’s going there is just as wrong. Jesus said He would come back to judge us. He left us a perfectly good instruction book. It’s called the Bible. B-I-B-L-E “Basic Information Before Leaving Earth.” Everything we need to know is in there. If it’s unclear, then the Church, in its 2,000 year history, has given us an explanation. Remember, “Whoever hears you, hears Me.”
I believe that Jesus has a sense of humor. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing up here. But I also believe that Jesus is Lord. He’s the Son of God, the Word made flesh, the king of kings, the Prince of Peace. He loves you and me, but He’s also going to come back to judge each one of us. I doubt that there will be a lot of joking around on that last day. We hope and pray that He’s merciful. But we’ve got to do our part, too. Like the parent who sets a curfew that’s never late enough, Jesus left us instructions that are much too hard for us to follow without His help. Thanks be to God!
posted by Mike at 8:44 AM
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