Our Mother Hen

February 24^th, 2013      “Our Mother Hen”       Rev. Heather Jepsen

Luke 13:31-35 and Psalm 27

          Our Gospel reading for this morning is one of my favorite passages.  In the text, Jesus is approached by the Pharisees who suddenly seem to be watching out for him and they give him a warning, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.”  We may be tempted to think that the Pharisees are now on Jesus’ side but that is most likely not the case, once more they are simply trying to stir up trouble. 

Jesus’ reply to them to is to tell them to send a message to Herod “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.  Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.”

          Jesus compares Herod to a fox, a cunning predator.  One could argue that he is referring to the Pharisees as foxes as well for we have seen their cunning action throughout the gospel.  Jesus always has his greatest run-ins with those within the church itself; not outsiders like Herod and Rome.

          After his warning for Herod, Jesus laments over Jerusalem and God’s love for the city.  “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!” Jesus says with passion.  “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”  Jesus laments as one whose love has been scorned, one whose care has been rejected.

          In her wonderful sermon on this passage, preacher Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “At risk to his own life, Jesus has brought the precious kingdom of God within reach of the beloved city of God, but the city of God is not interested.  Jerusalem has better things to do than to hide under the shelter of this mother hen’s wings.  It has a fox as its head, who commands a great deal more respect.  Consider the contrast: Jesus has disciples; Herod has soldiers.  Jesus serves; Herod rules.  Jesus prays for his enemies; Herod kills his.  In a contest between a fox and a chicken, whom would you bet on?”

I am sure that when it comes to this image of Jesus some of us would like to take a bit of creative license with the passage; if we are going to imagine Jesus as a barnyard bird how about a rooster, rather than a hen?  A rooster is stronger, tougher, and he can defend himself.  A Rooster has sharp spikes on the back of his feet that work like talons on anyone who bothers him.  He can also peck pretty hard, and he does not wait for you to peck first.  People have rooster fights for sport.  Has anyone ever heard of placing bets on a fight between docile mother hens?

          Again, Barbara Brown Taylor reminds us that “Jesus did not liken himself to a rooster.  He likens himself to a brooding hen, whose chief purpose in life is to protect her young.  He is a like a mother hen, with nothing much in the way of a beak and nothing at all in the way of talons.  About all she can do is fluff herself up and sit on her chicks.  She can also put herself between them and the fox, as ill-equipped as she is.  At the very least, she can hope that she satisfies his appetite so that he leaves her babies alone.”

          “How do you like that image of God?  If you are like me, it is fine in terms of comfort; who doesn’t want to run to a mother’s warm and loving embrace?  But in terms of protection, this image certainly leaves something to be desired.  When the foxes of this world start prowling really close to home, when you can hear then sniffing right outside the door, then it would be nice to have a bigger defense for the hen house.”

          Barbara raises a serious point.  Just who is the one with real power in this scenario?  It is no wonder that we often associate Fathering images with God rather than Mothering ones.  A Father is one who protects and cares for us, not one who cuddles and loves. 

And yet, Jesus’ use of mothering imagery here is not as foreign as it may seem.  In Hosea, God speaks of his protection for Israel using the imagery of a mother bear and her cubs.  In Isaiah, God speaks of Israel as a child of God’s womb who has nursed at God’s breast.  In Isaiah we also read a passage similar to Jesus voice here in Luke, “As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.”  Now, I’m not saying God is a woman any more than I would say that God is a man.  I’m just saying the Biblical imagery for God as mother is there. 

In our reading from the Psalms we also hear of the parental love of God.  Devoid of gender language, God is the one who the psalmist looks to for protection and comfort.  God will hide us in shelter, conceal us under a tent or place us high above our enemies on a rock.  God is the one who will protect us and as the Psalmist asks, with God on our side, why should we be afraid.  In a wonderful turn of phrase the psalmist tells us that God will love us even when our parents do not.  “If my mother and father forsake me, the Lord will take me up.”  It does not take gender to understand the love of a parent in this writing.  In any form, God keeps us safe and lifts us up in love.

In this scripture reading, Jesus resorts to mothering imagery to describe the love of God and perhaps also to describe his role in the grand order of things.  Jesus has come to protect the chicks from the foxes but he refuses to resort to violence.  When Herod and his troops come after Jesus and his brood, Jesus does not respond with violence of his own.  Instead he just put himself between them and the chicks all fluffed up and hunkered down like a mother hen.

          Again, in wonderful imagery, Barbara Brown Taylor writes that “It may have looked like a minor skirmish to those who were there, but that contest between the chicken and the fox turned out to be the cosmic battle of all time, in which the power of tooth and fang was put up against the power of a mother’s love for her chicks.  And God bet the farm on the hen.”

          “Depending on whom you believe, she won.  It did not look that way at first, with feathers all over the place and chicks running for cover.  But as time went on, it became clear what she had done.  She had refused to run from the foxes, and she had refused to become one of them.  Having loved her own who were in the world, she loved them to the end.  She died a mother hen, and afterwards she came back to them with teeth marks on her body to make sure they got the point: that the power of the foxes could not kill her love for them, nor could it steal them away from her.  They might have to go through what she went through in order to get past the foxes, but she would be waiting for them on the other side, with love stronger than death.” 

          It’s powerful imagery of a passionate and deep love.  For some of us, to think of the love of God as a mother’s love can be too much of a challenge.  That’s OK.  Just plug your ears and let this sermon go.  But for others of us, to think of God’s love in female imagery can be freeing and empowering. 

          When I was serving in rural Washington State, this language was a great barrier for many.  I wouldn’t preach this sermon there, it’s too much and wouldn’t be pastoral in that community.  But while I was there, I shared this idea with people in smaller settings.  One day I even brought this idea to a nursing home.  We were discussing the Lord’s Prayer and I was exploring parental language with several elderly ladies.  I asked them, “What would it be like to think of God as, “Our Mother who art in heaven”?  A 100 year old lady, turned to me in astonishment and said, “A mother is always there.”  Perhaps we don’t realize that we can be limited by our familiar language, just as we are comforted.

          During this Lenten season, we called to reflect on the ways we have turned from God.  We are called to reflect on the ways we have rejected the voice and love of God in our world.  We are often like the city of Jerusalem which is just too busy for a mother hen.  Or perhaps we are simply looking for something else from our God, unable to accept this image of self-sacrificial love. 

During this Lenten season let us consider how we have been unwilling to go to God in any way we might imagine God to be.  How often has Jesus desired to gather us children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and we were not willing?  How have we turned from the love of our Abba, Father?   As we journey through Lent together, let us be reflective upon this love, however we feel it expressed.  Amen.

Tempted By Good

February 17^th, 2013     “Tempted by Good”      Rev. Heather Jepsen

Luke 4:1-13

          This morning we enter fully into the season of Lent.  Lent is a time of personal reflection and focus.  It is a time to hold ourselves up to the light, to look at areas in our lives where we have strayed from God, and to ask for forgiveness.  Lent is a time to be honest with ourselves about our own sinful nature.

          The traditional text for the first Sunday in Lent is the temptation of Christ.  As we embark on a forty day sojourn into the wilderness of our souls, we think of Christ’s forty days in the wilderness.  After his baptism, Christ was full of the Holy Spirit.  The Spirit led him into the wilderness for a time of focused prayer and fasting.  Christ knew who he was, God having made that clear at the announcement at his baptism, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.”  This time in the wilderness is a time of preparation and testing.  This is the time when Christ will come to know what his mission and ministry will be.

          Of course, during this time in the wilderness, Christ is tempted by the devil.  I think that we often wonder if Christ could really have been tempted.  We forget the human nature of Christ; that he possessed all the same weaknesses that we do.  We forget that the temptations were as alluring to him as any temptations we might face today.  On the surface, the urge to turn stones to bread, command the kingdoms of the world, or to jump off a building don’t really seem like things that would tempt us.  But if we examine them deeper, the true nature of evil reveals itself.

          The first temptation seems clear enough.  Jesus has been fasting for forty days, and so at the end of this time he would be understandably hungry, famished in fact.  Satan appears and challenges him, “If (or better translated, since) you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.”  The inherent temptation to eat is clear, but wouldn’t Christ be able to resist mere human hunger.  The greater temptation is hidden within.  For if Christ can turn one stone into bread, than what about the thousands of stones that sit in the dirt throughout the nation of Israel?  With this power Christ could heal world hunger, and isn’t feeding the hungry the mission of the Messiah?  But, Christ responds with the words of Moses in the wilderness, “One does not live by bread alone.”  To finish the quote we remember that one instead lives by the words that come from the mouth of God.

          For the second temptation the devil shows Jesus all the kingdoms of the world.  The devil claims authority over these kingdoms and promises to give them to Jesus if he will but worship him.  We must remember that the devil is the king of lies.  At the time of Christ, the known world was ruled by the Roman Empire.  It would seem as if the kingdoms of power really were in the hand of Satan to give away as he wished.  Even in our modern times we often wonder just who is in control of the world. 

Jesus would be thinking about the political role the promised Messiah was to play.  The Messiah was supposed to sit upon David’s throne; to rule over the land as the new monarch.  The devil is offering this to Christ.  But of course, Jesus knows it is not his to give, and reminds him that the only one deserving of worship is the true God.

          For the third temptation, the devil takes Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple and quotes Scripture.  “Since you are the Son of God, throw yourself down and let God save you, for the scriptures make such promises.”  What better way for Jesus to prove to others that he is the Messiah, than by an awesome performance of God’s power as angles come to his aide?  Jesus reminds the devil, and us, that we should not put our Lord to the test.  The devil then leaves him, until the ominous sounding opportune time.

          I think we need to be reminded about how real these temptations were for Jesus.  The devil wasn’t tempting Jesus to do something bad; he was tempting him with good things.  Jesus was hungry when he was tempted.  I think he was more than just hungry for food, I think he was hungry to begin his ministry.  He was hungry to get started at his work in the world, and the devil tempted him with ways to do this.  What better way to begin his ministry than by feeding millions of people, taking over the kingdoms of the world in benevolence, and proving the existence of God?  Everyone would believe he was the Messiah then.

          A great example of this tempting desire to do good happened a few years ago after the large earthquake in Haiti.  At the time, Lars and I were living about an hour from the state of Idaho and some Baptists from there made big news when they went down to Haiti to rescue children.  I’m not sure how much news play this story got in Missouri but in nearby Washington State at the time it was a really big deal. 

These Idaho missionaries were trying to do a good thing; to move children from Haiti to an orphanage in the Dominican Republic.  From this orphanage the children could be adopted by loving families in America and move on to better lives.  This of course, is a noble cause.  The temptation of course, was to get this done in a hurry after the earthquake and pretty soon they were trying to do the right thing the wrong way. 

          In their zeal, they didn’t take the time to confirm all the family situations of these children.  Some still had loving parents who were so stressed after the earthquake that giving their children away seemed like it might be a good idea.  These missionaries did not go through the right channels, they did not have the right paperwork, and so they ended up looking a lot more like child trafficking then like humanitarian aide. 

          These missionaries were trying to do a good thing, but they were trying to do it on their own terms.  They were tempted to get it done fast, and did not consider the importance of the safety measures that were in place when getting it done right.  And in succumbing to this temptation, the sin of their arrogance was revealed.  For to take a child from loving parents who are struggling in the aftermath of a natural disaster, just because you can provide a “better” home, no matter how good it sounds, is sin.

           Often people are tempted not to do bad things, but to do good ones.  That is what makes temptations so attractive.  Satan doesn’t tempt Jesus and us with things that we know are hurtful to us and others.  He tempts us with things that we know are good.  Satan is the king of distortions and lies.  He presents wants as needs, falsehood as truth, and distrust as faith; and all too often we fall for his luring.

          During this time of Lent, we are called to examine our own hearts.  We are called to look for ways in which we have succumbed to Satan’s temptations.  Where have we pushed someone aside in our work for the greater good?  How have we lost our focus on the kingdom while we work to get one more thing done for the church?  How has our enthusiasm for justice hurt those who are new to the faith?  Satan doesn’t tempt us with evil, he tempts us with good. 

          As we sojourn together through the wilderness of Lent, let us be on guard.  Let us be honest about what tempts us, and let us remember that we will be more tempted by good than by evil.  Let us look to the example of Christ, who faced real temptations but remained without sin.  And as followers of Christ, let us ask forgiveness for the times that we have failed.  Amen.

Lifting the Veil

February 10^th, 2013        “Lifting the Veil”    Rev. Heather Jepsen

Exodus 34:29-35, Luke 9:28-36, and 2 Corinthians 3:12-18

          Today is Transfiguration Sunday.  Like Trinity Sunday and Christ the King Sunday this is one of those liturgical holidays that we sometimes forget about or even miss.  Transfiguration Sunday is a movable holiday, like Easter, and it always happens on the Sunday before Lent.  This Sunday marks a shift in the church year.  We are moving from ordinary time, to the Lenten time in which we prepare our hearts for the coming of Holy Week and Easter.

On Transfiguration Sunday we always read the text of Jesus on the mountaintop.  This year we are reading Luke’s version of the story.  Jesus heads up the mountain with his closest friends and while he is praying his appearance changes.  His clothes become dazzling white and the text indicates that his face changes somehow.  Moses and Elijah appear and together the three chat while Peter, James, and John heavy with sleep groggily look on.  Peter wants to build some dwellings to honor the moment when suddenly they are engulfed in a cloud, they hear the voice of the Lord praising Jesus, and then the whole thing is over.

Transfiguration Sunday is all about this moment on the mountain.  Jesus is transfigured; we could also use the word transformed or changed.  In this moment, Jesus looks different to the disciples and perhaps they get a sense of who he really is.  Similarly, Jesus’ mission and ministry are transfigured or changed at this moment.  In the synoptic gospels it is after this moment that Jesus turns his face to Jerusalem and the death that awaits him there.  Luke even brings this truth to the mountain top as he envisions Jesus, Moses, and Elijah speaking of the “exodus Jesus was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.”

In this lectionary year the gospel story of Jesus on the mountaintop is paired with the story of Moses in Exodus.  This is probably because the stories have so much in common.  Moses has been on a mountaintop of his own and has enjoyed face to face conversation with God.  When Moses descends the mountain the Israelites are afraid because the skin on his face is shining.  Moses covers his face with a veil so he can speak to the Israelites without causing fear, but then removes the veil when in conversation with God.  Like Jesus, Moses is physically transfigured or changed by his encounter with God.

Today I also read from Paul’s second letter to the church in Corinth.  As usual when reading Paul, this text is a bit murky and confusing.  We jump right into to an argument Paul is setting up.  Paul is trying to defend his ministry and his understanding of the gospel against an outside teacher in the Corinthian community.  This text is tricky in more ways than one.  Paul is using a Hellenistic style of argument, from the lesser to the greater, to show that the old covenant in Moses is surpassed by the new covenant in Christ.  An un-careful preacher can wander into the bog of anti-Semitism here, so rather than reviewing Paul’s argument I am choosing to focus instead on Paul’s discussion of becoming unveiled in Christ. 

Today I am thinking about how we are like Moses.  We can be transfigured or changed by an encounter with or our relationship with God, and yet we often put a veil between ourselves and the world around us.  Often, I think we are worried about what other people will think if they know who we really are, or if we are honest with them about our faith.  Like Moses, perhaps we hide ourselves so as not to scare each other.

A real life example might be helpful here.  Now, I consider myself a person who has been dramatically transfigured, or changed by an encounter with God.  I didn’t grow up in the church, and yet I find myself here, standing before you as a pastor.  God has changed me and my life. 

I am also a person who has lived as with a veil and I learned to do that in my previous call.  Now, let me say off the bat that I love the people of Wilbur, where I was before here.  It is a wonderful town, and it was a good church for me, and the people of that church were supportive of me and my ministry.  But Wilbur is a really small town.  800 people, no McDonalds or anything, no stop lights for 60 miles in any direction.  Small. Town.  And like many small towns, most people living there were from there.  Their families had been in the area for generations.

As with many small towns, Wilbur is a very insular place.  When I moved there to begin my ministry it was clear that Lars and I were different.  And that that difference was not necessarily welcome.  As I lived in Wilbur, I began to struggle with my identity.  I found I had to be very careful how I acted at all times and I couldn’t ever let my guard down.  Folks were always watching and frequently reporting on the actions of Pastor Heather.  Because I couldn’t relax I didn’t feel like I could be myself very often.  In fact I often veiled myself to the world around me.  I developed a persona of “Pastor Heather”; part really me and part who people told me to be or who I thought a pastor of a small town should be.

The chance to start over, in a place like Warrensburg, has been a gift.  In this community, very few of us are from here.  This is a transient place, with folks coming in and out to work at the Air Force Base or at the University.  Now while it is not a hot bed of diversity, there is a bit of room for difference here.

In this new call, I have felt the freedom to lift the veil a bit between me and you.  In my heart I believe that God called me, “Heather Jepsen” to ministry, not my idea of “Pastor Heather”.  Here in Warrensburg I have felt freer to be myself, “Heather Jepsen”, on Sundays or at Wednesday night meetings.  I have felt freer to tell you what I really think about things.  I have felt freer to share my harp.  In doing this, I am showing you more, of who I really am.  I am being more authentic in sharing the person that God called to ministry.  I am lifting the veil and revealing my transfiguration.

I think that all of us could do this a little bit more.  We don’t need to live like Moses, with a veil between ourselves and the world.  Rather, as Paul writes, we can set the veil aside in Christ.  We can live with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord reflected in the lives of each other. 

There are several ways we can lift the veil as individuals and as a church community.  One thing we can do is be more honest with each other here at church.  I just shared a bit of personal information and you can too.  When we are visiting together, tell me a bit more about yourself, don’t hide behind a veil.  I want to know who you really are.  When you come to worship on Sunday, bring your life with you.  Are you having a good day?  Bring it here.  Are you having a terrible time?  Bring that.  Let us share with each other what’s really going on.

As we gather at the communion table this morning, let us bring the whole of who we are.  The light and power of Jesus’ transformative love is expressed here in the elements of bread and juice.  Let us be honest about who we are, coming to the table humbly in worship of our Lord.  This is an occasion to lift any veil you have placed between yourself and God. 

The second thing we can do is share our faith with the world outside these doors.  Let’s stop worrying about scaring people and lift the veil on our lives.  Tell others how God has transfigured your life, how God has transformed you.  Tell others how this church is important to you.  Share with other people how and why your faith informs your view of the world. 

The third thing we can do is lift the veil on this church.  This church has a unique voice in our community.  We need to share it.  We need to tell folks that we are the financial house of ECHO.  We need to tell folks that we host the Food Center in more ways than one.  We need to tell folks about how we support Survival.  We need to stop being embarrassed or humble and start tooting our own horn.  We are in this community making a difference.  Let’s get a little bit louder about it.

On this transfiguration Sunday, let us be more open as individuals and as a church, about the transforming work God is doing in our midst.  As Jesus was on the mountaintop, he was changed and his ministry changed.  He was clear about that with his followers, putting no veil between himself and them.  Paul tells the Corinthians that if we are in Christ, then we too are unveiled before the Lord and before each other.  God has transformed us.  Let’s show it!  Amen.

God's Scandalous Grace

February 3^rd, 2013       “God’s Scandalous Grace”  Rev. Heather Jepsen

Luke 4:16-30

          “Nazareth?  Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”  I am sure some of you remember this phrase from John’s gospel.  Nazareth, boy what a place.  It seems as if Nazareth was the stuff of jokes, the Jersey of Jesus’ world, the fodder of ancient late night talk show hosts.  Nazareth, can anything good come from there?  Ha!

          Surely folks in Nazareth would have been self-conscious about their place in the ancient world.  They would have loved to have been known for something else, something other than a cheap shot for humor.  Then one day Joseph’s son walks into the temple to teach and it appears that the fate of Nazareth is about to change.

          Jesus reads from the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor.  He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”  We spoke last week about all the promise and power that is wrapped up in this statement.  Jesus sits down to teach and tells the people that “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” 

          Understandably people became excited.  “Hey, isn’t that Joseph’s boy, I know him, he worked on a carpentry project out at my place.”  “Yeah man, that’s Joseph’s kid, he’s from Nazareth, he’s one of us.”  At first there is a real sense of hometown pride.  This guy is one of our own; he is going to put us on the map in a positive way.  Watch out world, something good is finally coming out of Nazareth.

          People remember the stories they have heard of Jesus, how he has done miracles in other towns.  Their eyes widen with the possibilities that can come about with Jesus now in Nazareth.  First of all everyone in Nazareth will be healed, no sickness here anymore; and of course people will come from near and far to Nazareth to see Jesus and to experience his powers.  Think of the tourism dollars.  Far from being a big joke, Nazareth is about to become the coolest place to live.  Property values will skyrocket!

          But then, as he often does, Jesus starts saying things that make people uncomfortable.  “You will say, ‘Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’ Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.”  And he starts telling stories about Elijah and Elisha.  Mind you, these are not the foreign, distant, hard to remember Old Testament prophets for these folks like they frequently are for us.  No, these are living stories that people in the temple would know painfully well. 

          First the story of Elijah who during a three and a half year famine in Israel, when the land was full of needy Jewish widows, went to the aid of a woman at Zarephath in Sidon.  This woman was a Gentile.  How could a Jewish prophet perform a miracle for a Gentile when so many Jews were in need?

The story of Elisha follows.  He chose to heal only one leper, and this one a Syrian of Naaman, despite how many Jewish lepers were in need.  Again, why would God send the prophet to those who were not the chosen people?

          The crowd begins to get the gist of Jesus’ teaching.  He has come to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind; just not in Nazareth.  Jesus is bringing these gifts to Capernaum among other places, and that is a land of the Gentiles.

          It was a hard word for the people of Nazareth to hear.  What Jesus was saying, in essence, was that in order to be “for Nazareth” he was going to have to appear to be against Nazareth.  Jesus was going to have to be against the people of Nazareth’s desire to confine and contain the work of God.  In order to be for Nazareth, Jesus would have to leave Nazareth.  In order to be for Nazareth, Jesus would have to hit the road out of town, a road that would carry him eventually to a dark hill outside of Jerusalem.

          It is a hard lesson for all of us to hear about Jesus.  Jesus is for us, yes, but not just for us, Jesus is for all others, too.  In fact, in order to be the savior of all, Jesus will need to turn for the moment against some of us, to leave our little hometown images of him and our desire to shape him in our local molds behind.  In order to be “good news for the poor,” Jesus will need to speak against those of us who are rich.  In order to be a savior to the sick and blind, Jesus will need to leave the safe streets of the healthy.  In order to be a friend of sinners, Jesus will need to speak harshly to the righteous.

          Jesus reminded the synagogue congregation that God’s way has always been this way.  God is creator of heaven and earth, not a local deity enshrined in some grotto down the street.  God’s saving power is bigger than any one town can hold; God’s mercy is wider than any one village can imagine.  In fact, in order to show love for Israel, God worked wonders in Sidon and Syria.  In order to show love for Nazareth, Jesus worked miracles in Capernaum.  And I imagine that Jesus would tell us that in order to show love for the church, God is working wonders outside the church, outside Christianity, outside the city limits of every Nazareth we can imagine.

          And that is the hard lesson for us.  We know that we cannot determine who God’s grace extends to, but at the same time we are not always open to God sharing the bounty with those outside our boundaries.  Often we want God’s salvation to be just here, not there; to be with us, not them.  What happened to the folks in Nazareth was that they were so scandalized by God’s unlimited grace that they were unable to receive it.  And because of this they rejected Jesus Christ.  Jesus does not go elsewhere because he was rejected in his hometown.  Jesus is rejected in his hometown because he goes elsewhere. 

          The folks in Nazareth are so upset that they take Jesus to the edge of town and try to kill him.  They are going to stone him by throwing him off the cliff and down onto the stones.  And at this point, in the midst of their rage and fury, it seems as if they do get the miracle they were looking for.  The text literally says that Jesus “passed through their middle”.  Miraculously Jesus is able to slip from their murderous grasp and pass undetected straight through the middle of the crowd.  The folks in Nazareth got a miracle after all, but it was one which took the Christ away from them.

          It’s not God’s harshness or aloofness that makes us angry; it’s God’s mercy.  It’s too big, it’s too wide.  It’s easier to spend our lives licking our local wounds and making nasty remarks about Capernaum, than it is to try to live a generosity, kindness, and mercy as big as Christ’s.

          It’s this lesson that made us so uncomfortable last week.  I know that sermon was hard, and I was watching to see how folks here responded.  What happened was that no one said anything about my sermon.  Not one word, good or bad.  Instead, we all talked about my harp playing.  Perhaps if Jesus would have tempered his sermon with a little harp music the folks of Nazareth would have been a little more kind.  Sure, they would have been upset, but no one would throw a harpist off a cliff!

Trust me, last week’s sermon made me uncomfortable too.  When we think about Jesus’ mission to bring good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and letting the oppressed go free it makes us uncomfortable.  It makes us even more uncomfortable when we think of the ways in which the church is responsible for carrying out this mission as well.  Yet, despite our discomfort this is the message of the gospel. 

Christ has come to work miracles.  Christ has come to bring the Jubilee of the Lord.  And Christ will do all these things, not just in Nazareth or in Warrensburg, but around the country and around the world.  The work of God cannot be contained by our man made boundaries.  The work of God is so vast, so challenging, that if we are not uncomfortable, we are not paying close enough attention to the message.  That is what is so hard.  If we are not uncomfortable, then we are not listening.  My prayer for us today is that God would open our eyes and our hearts this morning to fully see the extent of God’s love.  Thanks be to God for such scandalous grace.  Amen.