How well do we know Jesus?
Readings for Sunday, July 4 (Proper 9): Ezekiel 2:1-7, 2 Corinthians 12:2-10, Mark 6:1-6
What was it about the people of Nazareth that caused them to reject one of their own? Had they not paid enough attention to Jesus as he was growing up among them to realize that he was going to be someone unique in the history of Israel? Had they been too busy with their own affairs to get involved in helping prepare him for his life's mission?
The answer to these questions is a resounding no.
The people of Nazareth rejected Jesus when he returned to his hometown not because they did not know him well enough, but because they knew him all too well. "Where did this man get these things?" they asked. "What is the wisdom given to him? How are such mighty works done by his hands?" Wherever, whatever, and however Jesus became what he was, the people of Nazareth had nothing to do with it and wanted nothing to do with him.
"Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?" In our day, "son of Mary" may be a term of endearment for Jesus. But it was nothing of the sort in Jesus' own day. To be called the son of one's mother, as opposed to the son of one's father, was a term of derision. It implied an illegitimate birth, the worst form of disgrace not only for the particular individual, but also for the entire family. The people of Nazareth "took offense at" Jesus. They knew him. They knew his family. They knew his trade. Who was he to come parading back into town, with his entourage of disciples, presuming to be their teacher and prophet?
Nazareth did not want him. They knew him too well. He was a carpenter, a child of questionable parentage in a family of no particular influence. They would have preferred he never left town in the first place. If he had stayed home and made a comfortable living making doors and hinges, they would have left him well enough alone. But he had to be about his Father's business, and that meant leaving the familiar surroundings of his hometown and embarking on a journey whose ultimate destination was a dark hill called Calvary.
It is hardly surprising that Mark concludes this particular episode by saying, “And he went about among the villages teaching.”
Much like the people of Nazareth then, we need to ask ourselves a serious question that has important implications for our faith today.
How well do we know Jesus?
Do we not know him well enough . . . or do we think we know him all too well?
Is the Jesus we follow simply someone who is going to tell us what we want to hear; someone who is going to tell us that we’re just fine the way are? Is he a Jesus who is content to let you keep swimming in the shallow waters while he watches from the shore—or is he the Jesus who calls you to join him in the deeper waters?
If the Jesus you are following is someone who never challenges you, never offends you, never confronts you with the reality of the sin in your life—you’re just following a figment of your imagination; and if that is the Jesus you think you know, you don’t know Jesus at all.
But here is the good news: Jesus knows us better than we know ourselves, and that is why he had to die for us; that is why he had to take our sins upon himself and go to the cross; because there was no other way that poor sinners like us could be saved.