Those listening to Jesus “were all well impressed with him and marveled at the eloquent words that he spoke” (4:22).  So far, so good.  People often marvel at Jesus in the Gospel accounts.  Sometimes this is a positive thing; sometimes not.  We can be amazed with happiness or amazed with indignation.  Jesus elicits both responses.  It’s the same today.  There are even now those who hear the Word with joy, who truly hear it for the first time.  There are those who have heard about Jesus all their lives, who still respond with derision, scorn, even anger.  Much of the time, the response is benign indifference.

“Isn’t he the son of Joseph?” (4:22).  Yes, and no.  Whose son is he?: that’s the question.  How did you come to your decision?  There’s that old saying about familiarity breeding contempt.  That’s probably too strong.  Familiarity can close our minds, narrow the circle of our vision.  His townspeople heard that Jesus has done healing in Capernaum.  They may find it hard to believe that it’s Joseph’s kid, but if he is, well, why not here in Nazareth?  How about home-town loyalty?  There’s a flap in Sweeny, right now.  I don’t know all the details.   The gist seems to be that local restaurant owners are unhappy that Phillips has opened something like a food court at the plant; it sounds like the food court features some West Columbia favorites.  Great choice!  But how about some home-town loyalty?

“I am sure that you will quote this proverb to me, ‘Doctor, heal yourself’” (4:23).  Look after your own, first!  Charity begins at home.  Needs close to home are vastly more important than needs far away.  They’re starving?  Well, we have hungry people right here.  They’re without clothing or shelter?  We have kids without winter coats, couch-surfing, right here.  How narrowly shall we draw the circle?  Jesus tells his apostles, just before he ascends, to take the Gospel to the ends of the earth.  Jesus draws the circle very wide.

Jesus has just told them good news has been fulfilled in their hearing (4:21).  They nod approvingly, but they don’t understand.  What they understand, where their focus is, is that Jesus has healed people in another town.  They are focused on the healing, the power.  Hey, Jesus!  What about us?  Look after your own, first!  Fix my eye.  Fix my teeth.  Fix my knee.  Fix my foot.  Fix my acid reflux.  Fix my wife!  Fix my heart.  Ah!  Physical ailments.  Restore my body, Lord.  Make me like I was, before.  Because the real problem was the physical problem.  All we truly need is a healthy body, thanks, and we’ll take it from there.

This gets to a deeper issue: What God “ought” to be doing.  What ought God be doing, really?  You and I may have one answer, hopefully the same answer, the answer we learn together by reading, believing, and living God’s Word.  My sense is that many people, who want God, their god, their way, they believe that what God ought to be doing is, first, to be blessing as blessed whatever they happen to want, want to do, and, second, God ought to be making sure nothing bad or sad happens to them.

It’s a transaction conceived in consumer terms.  Customer service, right?  The customer is always right, right?  You do for us, and we’ll get back to you on what we’ll do for You . . . when we feel like it, to the extent we feel like it, maybe we will let you be our god—so long as you don’t displease us or contradict us, ‘cause I can always take my business elsewhere, you know.  God ought to be like the genie in the bottle, with no limit on the number of wishes we can wish.  If we can’t have that, then, no thanks.  You keep your God; keep Him to yourself.  What the world loves best is a silent disciple.  Jesus came to proclaim.  America loves free speech—right up to the point you say something costly, something contrary to the spirit of the age.

Jesus perceives the attitude of the hearts of those to whom he has just proclaimed Good News.  Fix my heart, one says.  He means his irregular heartbeat or his blood pressure: the physical organ.  Fix that and I’ll be happy, and all will be well.  When he said, Jesus, fix my heart, he was saying much more than he knew.  He was speaking for all of them gathered there, that day, hearing the words Jesus said, and not listening to what he was saying.

Jesus then speaks to them about works of power.  He speaks about such works in terms of prophecy, in terms of Elijah and Elisha—that’s some exalted company.  Why those two?  To begin with, beloved, I’d encourage you to consider the times in which those men of God lived.  Prophets do works of power, Elijah and Elisha certainly did, but God does not send prophets primarily to do works of power.  Prophets are sent to speak words of spiritual power, to speak the Word that can change, can fix the heart: the change that the Spirit causes.  The change requires the Spirit, and it requires the Word—Spirit and Truth, beloved!  Works without the Word only dazzle.  God does not aim to dazzle us: that’s secondary, that’s incidental.  God aims to heal us, to reclaim us, to fix our broken hearts, spiritually.

Jesus says to his townspeople that “a prophet is never welcomed in his hometown” (4:24).  Scripture generally shows that a prophet is never welcomed, period.  Scripture shows us that a prophet typically is not sent to do something but to say something—often something that is going to be hard to hear.  Every prophet brings mixed news: good news for those who will hear and believe, not so good for those who do not hear and do not believe.

God blesses everyone daily.  We all share common blessings, blessings so common that even we are likely to fail to think of them as blessings, and so even we can begin to treat God’s blessings with a degree of contempt: each day, a blessing.  Each breath, a blessing.  Each time we drink, a blessing.  Every time we eat, a blessing.  Every time we know the goodness of love, a blessing.  Every time we feel the sting of conscience, a blessing.  The aim of all these blessings is to call us to knowledge of God and to relationship with God, the true God, the real God, the only God.  The prophets tell us, if we want the fullness of God’s blessings, live as God has commanded you, obey God’s Word.  Jesus comes among us as God’s Word.  What does he say?

What we find, as we read Scripture, is that the authorities and the people, hearing the prophets, are always shocked.  They reject what the prophet says.  The authorities and the people, with righteous indignation, say “We are faithful!  We are not disobeying God or ignoring His Word!”  All the while, they’re sinning like there’s no tomorrow.  Oh, they perform the rites, offer the sacrifices, keep the festivals, say the prayers and sing the songs.  During public worship, everyone is a devotee.  The other 167 hours of the week, what their lives speak is that God is an afterthought.  Even worship an afterthought: confined to one hour a week at a certain place among a certain people.  Not central to your existence.  Not the anchor of your life, the root.  Not God everywhere, always.  At best, background noise.

The prophet calls the people to worship the one who is truly worthy.  The prophet offers words of restoration, healing and peace, God’s words, God’s Word.  The prophet offers a choice: wrath and judgment, or restoration and peace.

Jesus enrages the people, well-disposed towards him a moment before, because he tells these people looking for works of power that God sends to whom He sends, heals whom He heals (even gentiles, foreigners, rather than “His own people”).  Jesus is telling them that it’s not about them.  Well, if it’s not about us, what good is God?  Because, if God isn’t serving us, what good is He?  Their mindset is focused on what God ought to be doing.  They are quite sure about what God ought to be doing.  Lots of people are sure about what God ought to be doing.  Lots of people have fashioned idols, enthroned them in their broken hearts, and worship them every now and again with such fervor and pleas, such cajoling and anger.  The idols are very pretty: no one fashions an ugly idol.  They are attractive, flattering.  And every single one of all those idols is silent, silent as the grave.

Those angry people in Nazareth, expecting that Jesus will fix their physical, material problems and then go away, or at least get out of the way, want to hoard Jesus: he’s their talisman, their little ju-ju, their magic lamp.  Jesus did not come to be hoarded but to give himself.  He calls to our attention that giving here at this table this morning.  I came not to be served, but to serve (Mk 10:45).  I came that they might have life, and have it abundantly (Jn 10:10).  I came to die, to give my life a ransom for many (Mt 20:28).  God aims to heal us, to reclaim us, to fix our broken hearts, spiritually.  He accomplishes this by the Spirit, the Holy Spirit, by this Word, by these signs of His Word, this bread offered, this juice poured.

The people at the synagogue that day wanted to hoard Jesus.  We want to share him.  The question for us is not what God ought to be doing.  The question is how we ought to be living.  The people, true to the historical pattern, are so enraged with what the prophet says that they resolve to kill him then and there.  There are those today who would love to kill God’s Word, to silence the faithful.  When we acquiesce, or when we speak the world’s words, words of the flesh, dressed in the garb of God’s Word, are we living as we ought?  God will permit their rage to have its way, later.  That day, however, Jesus does perform a work of power, as he walks his way (4:30).  If you want to know, to feel the power of Jesus alive and at work in you, walk his way.

Now to the One who by the power at work within us is able to do far more abundantly than all we can ask or imagine, to God be glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever.