I have heard it said that the work of the preacher is to do two things at the same time with the same set of words: comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.
Jesus seems to have had the knack of telling the Good News in such a way that his preaching accomplished both objectives. He comforted the afflicted and afflicted the comfortable, all with the same words of God’s love. It has occurred to me that the reason more of us preachers are not thrown off a cliff is that we’re not doing our work.
What happened in the story we’ve just heard? What happened between the first sentences, when the people in the synagogue are so pleased with Jesus, and the last sentence, when they’re ready to throw him off the cliff?
The first line of this story is the last line of last week’s gospel.
Jesus has come home to Nazareth. He goes to the synagogue, reads from the scroll
of the prophet Isaiah and sits down to preach. He announces that the scripture—the
coming of the messenger to proclaim the deliverance of God’s people—has
been fulfilled. And apparently people like what he’s saying.
“All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came
from his mouth.”
Fast forward to the end of the gospel. “When they heard this, all in
the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of town, and
led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they
might hurl him off the cliff.” What does Jesus say to move the people
from their complete approval of him to such anger that they are ready to kill
him?
What happened in between? What do they see or hear that makes them so upset?
Luke doesn’t tell us about the part of the sermon that the people like,
but the action seems to change when the people express their amazement that
someone they’ve known all his life could be speaking these words to them.
In that moment, Jesus understands that the people in his hometown will probably
never be able to see him as anything other than the little boy they’ve
always known. At that point, he anticipates that they will challenge his authority—that
they’ll ask him to do miracles their faith can’t support. So he
reminds them about other prophets.
Without actually saying the words, he reminds them that Elijah and Elisha, prophets who ranked second only to Moses in the Jewish tradition, did not find welcome for their words in Israel. The people of Israel couldn’t receive the gift God was sending them, so Elijah and Elisha went to the gentiles—the unclean—the outsiders—with the word of God. What the people of Israel refused was given to others instead. Without actually saying the words, Jesus tells the people in the synagogue that they are making the same kind of mistake their ancestors made. Without actually saying the words, Jesus tells them that they also will be remembered as the people who could not hear the word of God spoken through the prophet. Although Jesus doesn’t actually say the words, the people hear his meaning, and they are enraged.
I imagine that there were a few people in the synagogue that day who were left
with wonder rather than anger—a few people who dared to hope that perhaps
life could change—a few people who were comforted rather than afflicted.
But why are the majority so furious? Why can’t they hear the good news
of release from captivity, of new sight for the blind, of freedom from oppression?
My guess is that Jesus’ words don’t match their understanding of
reality. His reference to Elijah and Elisha reminds them that God created the
world—not just their little bit of territory. Nothing closes our ears
quite so tightly as words that we don’t want to hear. Nothing makes us
quite so upset as a suggestion that our view of the world might be a little
skewed.
Especially if we have even the tiniest suspicion that it might be true. And
Jesus’ words to the synagogue that day were a reminder that God’s
gifts were not reserved for one small group of people.
Down through the ages, people—even people of faith—perhaps especially
people of faith—have had difficulty with that idea. The people in Jesus’
synagogue in Nazareth believed that God’s gifts were for them alone—not
for the whole world. As Christianity grew, we developed division after division—separating
ourselves from those who didn’t pray, eat, think, believe, speak or behave
as we thought they should—each segment claiming God’s favor, each
group building a fortress of words, rules, custom and architecture to keep everyone
else out.
Unfortunately we haven’t changed much over the centuries. I’m reminded
that the early colonists came to this land to find religious freedom—for
themselves, not for people of any other belief. I’m reminded that some
of the angriest faces I’ve ever seen belonged to Christians—
Christians arguing that they alone hold God’s truth and stand in God’s
favor. Christians arguing against inclusion of people who are different Christians
who seem to forget that loving God and
loving our neighbor are inseparable parts of Christ’s commandment to us.
As we think about how all the people of God seem not to have changed down the ages, it’s important for us to notice something about Jesus that is unchanging. Throughout the gospels, Jesus’ teaching has a pattern. He says what he needs to say, then he moves on. He doesn’t try to talk the people out of throwing him over the cliff. He doesn’t argue scripture or tradition. He doesn’t try to convince or persuade. He doesn’t cajole or coerce. He simply says what he needs to say, then moves on. He says what he needs to say, then leaves the choice to the people—to the people gathered in the synagogue, to the people gathered on the mountain, to the people gathered by the Sea of Galilee, to the people gathered here today.
The good news—threaded through all of scripture—is that God keeps loving us and keeps offering us the choice to accept or refuse that love. Elijah and Elisha offered the choice to the people of their time, and the people made a choice in their day. Jesus offered the choice to the people in the synagogue, and the people made a choice that day.
We have a choice to make today and every day. The risen Christ brings the Good News of God’s love to us every day, and it’s up to us to make the choice.
Do we listen to his words or do we just throw him over the cliff?