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Lectionary reading: The FIFTH SUNDAY OF ORDINARY TIME - July 5, 2009 Then Jesus said to them, "Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house." OOHH!? by Larry Patten Last summer, while biking through a local park, I spotted Helen*. A still feisty octogenarian, she’s part of a church I once served. She walked with a younger companion; a twenty-something woman who I knew wasn’t a daughter or granddaughter. Helen has traveled the world and volunteers for a variety of causes and groups. She welcomes new friends like some people collect salt-and-pepper shakers. I stopped and we exchanged the usual this and that—and then Helen asked, “What are you doing these days?” “Working on a novel,” I replied. And, selfish me, I gave her my quick pitch. Why not? Since I’m trying to find an agent and eventual publisher, I’ll take any opportunity to hone my message. Like most of us, agents and editors are influenced by first sentences and first impressions. It’s the “elevator ride” speech. Can you describe your story or plan between floors? Can you wow the potential reader or co-worker with a few well-chosen words? So, I told Helen something like this: After a long absence Rev. Mark Hart visits his beloved mentor Grandy Brighton. Brighton asked two favors of Hart: to help find his grandson innocent of arson charges and, afterward, to help him “bet on Jesus.” At least that’s what Hart’s older friend, battling pancreatic cancer, called assisted suicide. “How nice,” Helen said, and then told a knock-knock joke. I could’ve admitted to managing an underground cock-fighting ring or winning the Pulitzer Prize since leaving the church . . . and Helen would’ve smiled and shared her knock-knock joke. But it was the younger woman’s response, the stranger-to-me, which proved fascinating. After my spiel, she immediately said, “Oohh!?” The exclamation point and question mark are critical for “hearing” her reaction. Her voice rose in excitement. She made eye contact with me. Surprise. Curiosity. Helen likes me and, as one of her former pastors, I’m darn near perfect. And I’m just as easily ignored or humored. The “Oohh!?” encouraged me. Maybe someday other strangers, readers unknown to me, will glance at my book jacket’s blurb, wonder about the two favors, and purchase the novel. But for Helen, I’m the prophet in the “hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” Those, of course, are words found in Mark’s Gospel, partly describing the reaction to Jesus by—not strangers—but folks from his old stomping grounds. Mark wrote that Jesus, in Nazareth, “could do no deed of power there, except that he lay his hands on a few sick people and cured them.” A prophet, and yet often unwelcome or underappreciated in their neighborhood. Jesus healing? Jesus preaching? For some, wow! But for many he was the child that used to hide behind Mary’s skirt at the synagogue potluck or the snotty kid once answering questions about the Torah before any other student could raise their hand. You’ve finished a novel? Hey, wanna hear a joke? Maybe it’s only me. Maybe when Bill Gates or Hillary Clinton or Denzel Washington visit their childhood chums they are uniformly admired and honored. But I doubt it. Jesus’ return to his hometown in Mark is arguably one of the most persuasive Gospels reasons for the always-lively discussion about his divinity versus humanity. He’s the Son of God! No, he’s Joseph and Mary’s kid. He’s the Messiah! Yeah, but do you remember what he and his brother Joses did when they were knee-high to a grasshopper? He healed people in Capernaum! And yet people in Nazareth treated him like he was working for Bear Stearns. It would be easier, as I interpret the Bible and seek to make disciples and proclaim this the acceptable year of the Lord, to share that Jesus was singularly divine or humbly human. Only one, not both. However, not long after Golgotha, the debates—the scholarly discussions, the hateful word (and world) wars, and the theological arm wrestling—started and never ended. With obvious exceptions, I’m glad for the uncertainly. To use easy historical examples, as a Christian I’m ashamed of the Crusades or Spanish Inquisition. You don’t even have to know your history to understand that debating Jesus has meant millions have perished. And, of course, the debate is not just an ancient history lesson. From the genocide of Native Americans to the Holocaust, the debate’s cost is a present tense reality around us. Still the writer of Mark gave us a gift. Don’t presume you know everything about this Jesus. In one paragraph he fails, in the next paragraph he succeeds. Mark boldly had Jesus state he was amazed at their unbelief. And in other place, the Nazarene was delighted when a person’s faith made them whole. And so, all of us who are prophets, pastors, and disciples, all of us with faith enough to proclaim the power of forgiveness and mercy, will sometimes be met with rolling eyes and knock-knock jokes. The persons we know the best will ignore us . . . be amused by us . . . tell us how cute we once were. One of my all-time favorite quotations comes from nineteenth century writer G.K. Chesterton: “Angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.” As a preacher, as an occasional prophet, I silently repeat Chesterton’s humorous truth, sometimes especially around those like Helen. Want to debate Jesus’ divinity versus humanity? Well and good. But there is work to do. Don’t take yourself so seriously. Jesus moved on. In the next paragraph, he’s sending out the disciples. Some will listen and ignore you, he cautioned. But there will be those, maybe strangers, who listen and reply with, "Oohh!?” *Not her real name. in Peace,
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