Saint Thomas Church Fifth Avenue

And all they in synagogue, when they heard these things, were filled with wrath. St. Luke 4:21-32

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

Most hometowns are proud of their favorite sons and daughters, the local boys and girls who go out in the world and make a name for themselves. They are proud to bask in the reflected glory and to be able to say, “We knew him when.”

What went wrong with Jesus and his hometown Nazareth? Other versions of this story that we have this morning (and last Sunday) in Saint Luke appear in Matthew and Mark, but Luke tells us more about what Jesus read from Isaiah in the local synagogue and what he said; Luke also adds Jesus’ brush with death when the enraged townsfolk put him out of the city and tried to throw him headlong down the hill. [I once passed by that hill on a bus tour of the Holy Land.]

Last week we heard Jesus read from Isaiah, sit down, and say, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” referring to the gracious, merciful, and healing deeds of the Messiah spoken of by the great prophet. So far so good, for all spoke well of him and wondered at his gracious words. Even when they say, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” it is not clear that trouble is ahead.

But when Jesus starts speaking, when he draws them out by challenging their desire to see his miracles (such as they heard of in Capernaum) in Nazareth; when Jesus refers to himself as a prophet who will not be acceptable in his own country; when Jesus reminds his fellow Jews that Elijah and Elisha of old performed such miracles as they desire to see only among Gentile foreigners – the approval and wonder are suddenly transformed. They are “filled with wrath.” They try, as a crowd, to throw him out and kill him.

Most paradoxically, the hometown is treated, at the very end of the story, to a sign and wonder. Jesus somehow passes through the midst of them and goes away. His escape is a clear sign of his relationship with the people of his hometown.

What Jesus said was what offended his countrymen. He identified himself with the figure of the Messiah who preaches good news to the poor, who gives release to the captives, sight to the blind, liberty to the oppressed; who proclaims, in other words, the presence of God and who himself embodies that Kingdom, for he is its King. Jesus says his messiahship is that of a prophet, one who tells God’s truth, past, present, and future. Further, he says his ministry as a prophet is for everyone, even, or especially, those on the margins, hampered by sin, by spiritual oppression, by distance of whatever kind from the religious and moral center. His ministry, though most certainly incarnate, local, arising in the fullness of time at a particular time and place, is for all times and places, for a community that will be universal; in other words, one, holy, catholic and apostolic. Why does this make the hometown folks so angry – suddenly, disproportionately wrathful?

They fulfill the rejections spoken of by the prophets including the Messiah himself. They have eyes but see not. All their so-called local, neighborly knowledge of Jesus and his family blinds them, keeps them from seeing who Jesus is, because they resent hearing that Jesus has done well elsewhere and envy those people and places whom he blessed.¹ Yet isn’t it miraculous enough, enough of a wonder and sign, that the Messiah (God incarnate) was brought up among them, lived, worked and played beside them, walked their streets and fields, visited their homes, for three decades?

Envy blinds. The very word means “evil eye,” from the Latin invidia. People are blinded by an evil eye when, arising from their own deep unhappiness, they look about themselves and project their unhappiness onto others who, like the Lord, catch their attention. Thus, as Saint Thomas Aquinas and others classically defined envy, the envious are glad to see the other person’s sorrow and sorry (or angry) to see the other’s joy. If we find these feelings arising in our hearts, then we may detect the disease caused by the green worm of envy. Envy is murderous. Lucifer, the angel of light himself, envied the glory of God his maker, and fell, becoming, as Jesus tells us, the father of lies and a murderer from the beginning. For envy has no satisfaction except in that misery loves company. The presence of Jesus in his own hometown not only flushed out the envy in everyone’s heart, but, by virtue of his clear, incarnate goodness, threw light on all the darkness, in a moment showing up everything in sharp relief.

The antidote to envy is gratitude. Thankfulness, and the giving of thanks, brings back clarity, restoring clear-sightedness. If I am grateful for being the child of God I am and thankful for the gifts of life, time, and talent that have been given me, then I can rejoice in the gifts God has given others as well. If I am aware that those others bear crosses and sufferings, as I do, that can only be imagined, then I will extend them sympathy and charity, perhaps even love and affection; for they are my brothers and sisters in the same flesh and blood Christ took upon himself and died to redeem. Envy blinds us. Gratitude enables us to see, to perceive, to understand, to appreciate the goodness of God.

Saint Thomas Church Fifth Avenue is not Nazareth. We are two thousand years later and half way around the globe. But it is possible for any local Christian community to develop “Nazareth tendencies,” of which we should beware. Over-familiarity with holy things such as the Bible, Sacraments, the Ministry, with one’s own clergy and fellow Christians, can breed contempt and deaden the spiritual senses. When the fresh, clear Gospel, the Word of God, is preached in such a neighborhood which thinks it has seen it all and its therefore quite blind, it can most assuredly arouse anger, opposition, even lethal passions. So it is constantly necessary for us all and each one of us, to renew our gratitude, our sense of wonder at God’s grace, which will give us the humility to hear the Word of God and see its glorious effects.

Let the terrible indictment of Nazareth never be said about us, either in our church or in our individual lives; namely, that Jesus could do no mighty works there because of their unbelief, and thus he passes through the midst of us, going his way and leaving us to ourselves.

Domestic Violence