To The Brow of the Hill

A Reading from the Holy Gospel according to Luke.

Jesus began speaking in the synagogue, saying:
“Today this Scripture passage is fulfilled in your hearing.”
And all spoke highly of him
and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. 
They also asked, “Isn’t this the son of Joseph?”
He said to them, “Surely you will quote me this proverb,
‘Physician, cure yourself,’ and say,
‘Do here in your native place
the things that we heard were done in Capernaum.’”
And he said, “Amen, I say to you,
no prophet is accepted in his own native place.
Indeed, I tell you,
there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah
when the sky was closed for three and a half years
and a severe famine spread over the entire land.
It was to none of these that Elijah was sent,
but only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon.
Again, there were many lepers in Israel
during the time of Elisha the prophet;
yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.”
When the people in the synagogue heard this,
they were all filled with fury.
They rose up, drove him out of the town,
and led him to the brow of the hill
on which their town had been built,
to hurl him down headlong.
But Jesus passed through the midst of them and went away.

At first, they were impressed. They complimented Him. It was wonderful to hear someone from right there in Nazareth speak so graciously, and him a carpenter’s son.

And then they began to wonder.

“Isn’t this Yehoshua, the son of Joseph? Joseph, the man who built our houses and our furniture and never went to school? Joseph, who was betrothed to that girl Miriam and she ended up pregnant, but he went through with the wedding anyway? Joseph who went away to Bethlehem with his knocked up bride, and didn’t come back for three whole years? Joseph, who lost his child in the temple and nearly scared that poor mother to death?  THAT Yehoshua, the son of THAT Joseph?”

It’s hard to believe that a good thing can come from Nazareth, when you yourself are from Nazareth.

It’s so hard to believe that the oddball son of that oddball couple, the hapless misfits,  subjects of your gossip for so many years, could have something to say.

And then Jesus began to speak again.

“Indeed, I tell you, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah when the sky was closed for three and a half years and a severe famine spread over the entire land. It was to none of these that Elijah was sent, but only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon. Again, there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian.”

And the people of Nazareth were furious. Because as hard as it is to listen when someone you know  from right here in town speaks the truth, it’s even harder to listen when he says that good things can come from somewhere else.

That people who don’t come from where you come from, can be the one to welcome a prophet and save his life. Your kind of people are supposed to do that, not somebody else’s kind.

That God would send a miracle to feed someone else, instead of you. God is supposed to feed you.

That sick people from somewhere else could receive a miracle from your God. Your God is yours and belongs to you. He doesn’t belong to somebody else. If He belonged to somebody else, you would have to share.

It’s too much: this good-for-nothing boy from right here in town, telling them that God doesn’t belong to them and can do whatever He wants.

It’s too much when someone you think you know very well, someone you’ve heard all the gossip about, someone you’ve dismissed as worth nothing, shows up and tells you that people you don’t know at all can be good. That people you don’t know at all can do good things. That God can visit people you don’t know or care about, and work miracles for them.

It might make you start to question if you really know anything after all. You realize you might not really know God at all. You question whether the God you imagined might be far greater than you’ve ever thought. You wonder whether the whole world that God created is bigger and more complicated than you had in mind. And you wonder what that means for you, what you ought to be doing differently.  And that hurts.

So the people of Nazareth rose up against that good-for-nothing boy, and chased him out of the temple. They shoved him to the brow of the hill, to hurl him down headlong. Enough with that ridiculous child. Enough with his whole strange, troublesome, inconvenient family. Enough with these terrible feelings he’s been making us feel. Enough with it all. Get rid of him.

And so they proved that they did not know God at all.

And God passed through their midst and went away.

Image via Pixabay

Mary Pezzulo is the author of Meditations on the Way of the Cross and Stumbling into Grace: How We Meet God in Tiny Works of Mercy.
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