This is the sermon I preached today, though perhaps I should say, “This is more or less the sermon I preached today,” because I preach from the aisle without a manuscript or notes. You can find the lectionary here. We are using Track 2.
In the Episcopal Church, it is almost unheard of for an ordained person, whether that person be deacon or priest, to serve in his or her sponsoring parish. The sponsoring parish is the parish that discerned ordained vocation with the clergy person, raising them up for ordination, so to speak. Though the person may go back once or twice after ordination, or even occasionally to do supply, serving as the assigned deacon or the rector or priest-in-charge is, essentially, a “no go.” And there is good reason for that.
For example, my sponsoring parish, where my husband and kids are still members, is now beginning a search. Their rector of nine years left just last week. As word of her move made its way around and at her going away party, several people asked me if I could “come back.” My answer to them was a flattered and loving, “No!” Begging the question that I serve here with you, there are larger issues to consider, the primary one being that, although I have from time to time done Saturday supply for them (obviously before I began serving here), and we have all enjoyed that time together, as a more permanent option, it would not work out for them or for me. We know each other differently than as priest and people, and there is no leaving that behind.
It’s the parochial equivalent of the teen-age breakup in which the kids promise to remain best friends. It almost never works because there is no going back, no forgetting or truly moving beyond the relationship you had before. In my case, there are still many people who remember me as the young mother whose husband was away in the Navy, trying to manage a job and getting to church with two little boys, and then having a third child. I’m remembered as someone who always listened to, and sometimes gratefully took, the advice of my elders in the community. I’m the choir member, stewardship chair, vestry member, search committee chair, food pantry volunteer, reluctant holiday fair chairperson, friend, and… What I am not is their priest.
Jesus has a bit of a similar experience in today’s Gospel. In what is the third of three consecutive weeks of stories about how those around him view Jesus’ authority, we hear Jesus say, ““Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” Jesus says this after the people who likely have known him longest, and may know him best, essentially say, “This kid is getting too big for his britches. Does he forget that we know he is Mary and Joseph’s son? Look! We know the whole family. Where does he get off thinking he’s got that kind of authority over us?”
At this time in his ministry, Jesus has been out and about in the community for a while, gathering people to him, preaching his message, and modeling how to live as God intends. I’m pretty sure word of the miracles Jesus did, perhaps including the calming of the sea and the stilling of the winds (the story we heard two weeks ago) and the healing of the woman with the hemorrhages and the raising of Jairus’ daughter (from last week’s Gospel) would have made it to his hometown. And, while people seem to accept that he can do those things, we are told “he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.” People can accept the healing of specific illnesses but they cannot accept his authority to bring a new way of being, a way in which all people are reconciled to each other and to God. Because they know him and have known him as they do, they cannot wrap their heads or their hearts around the idea that he is the Messiah, the incarnate God.
This is true about our relationships with God, too. I can’t tell you how many people I’ve talked to, mostly in my work as a chaplain, who are sure that they cannot be loved or accept God’s love because of some way they’ve felt about God or something they have done in their life. Maybe they’re angry with God because they have cancer or a child has died or anyone of the myriad ways our human-ness means life does not seem fair or kind. Even though they truly want to move beyond the anger or the fear or the lack of faithful behavior, they cannot quite get past it.
The good news for us in today’s Gospel is that Jesus tells us he understands this and he gives us some insight into how it is that he is different than us, that God does not hold onto or get caught up in anything that has gone before the very moment we are in. Jesus tells the disciples to go out into the countryside to do what they do, to be who they are, without trying to plan for the usual way of being greeted, bringing only what they need to do the work they are given to do, to be who they are. They are not to try to plan for every eventuality or to meet their own needs. No food. No money. Only one tunic. Wear your sandals, which, among other things, would make shaking the dirt off your feet much easier. And, while we often hear “testimony against them” as punitive, I’m not so sure we can assume that. It may be an indication of the reality that we are not always ready or able to meet God where we are. God gives us opportunity after opportunity to invite God into our hearts and lives, though God also gives us the free will to decide to forego the invitation.
The Scriptures tell us in at least a few ways that every day with God, every moment with God, is a new one. God knows us fully and completely, God knit us in the womb, God knows us better than we know ourselves. It’s frightening, I know, and yet God invites us to move deeper into God’s heart without any desire to hold onto the ways we’ve been unfaithful, the things we’ve done wrong, or, I suppose, even the things we’ve done well or faithfully. What God wants is for us to want to be in relationship with God, and for us to leave behind any of the baggage we carry so that the journey brings us closer to the realization of God’s dream. God wants us to recognize Jesus’ authority, Jesus’ love, Jesus’ mercy, compassion, and hope. God wants us to recognize the power of the Holy Spirit working in and through us to bring about peace and the reconciliation of all people to each other and to God. God wants to be invited in, to be welcomed in our hearts and lives.