During his public life, Our Lord was admired and sought after. He was popular. His apostles left everything to follow him. The people cured of their illnesses were full of gratitude. Sinners rejoiced in the mercy He extended to them. Crowds hung on to His every word. This reputation preceded Jesus and so when He returned to Nazareth, His hometown, we would expect that a splendid welcome awaited Him.
Imagine the comments that could have been made by the people who came to hear Our Lord preach in the synagogue: “There is Jesus my friend, I wonder what he will say, He is so wise.” “Glad to have Jesus return home. He was always so obedient and such a good worker. Joseph was always so proud of Him. I wonder if He has time to do a little job for me at home while He is here.” “Ah, Jesus was always so devoted to His mother, Mary. Why isn’t she sitting up front today? She always takes the last place!”
Jesus begins to preach and at first, the people were amazed at His preaching, but as His words begin to “sink in” astonishment turns to resentment. “They took offense at Him,” says St. Mark. Taken aback, they began to ask, “How can someone like us, from our tiny village, this backwater hamlet, say such things. They could not imagine that someone they knew so well could be God’s spokesman, the carrier of divine grace. How true is the maxim: “Familiarity breeds contempt.”
I like the way Archbishop Fulton Sheen described the reaction of the people of Nazareth that day: “They believed in God…but not the God who touched their neighborhood, entered into close dealings with them, and lifted hammers in the same trade shop. The same kind of snobbery…found in the exclamation of Nathaniel: ‘Can anything good come from Nazareth?’ now became the prejudice against him…among his own people.” [Life of Christ, pp. 211-212] We can assume that this rejection was not unexpected by the Lord who knew the people of His hometown very well.
We can almost feel his sorrow at their rejection: “A prophet is not without honor, except in his native land.” Years ago, I was assigned pastor of my native parish. I was happy at the prospect. A brother priest called to congratulate me and quoted these very words, “A prophet is not without honor, except in his native land.” I didn’t make much of this admonition until one Saturday, after I have been in the parish only a few weeks and went to hear confessions. A line of people formed. I knew nearly all of them. After I went into my confessional and closed the door, I heard a woman say, in a voice I could clearly hear, “If you think I am going to go to confession to HIM, you’re mistaken. I’ve known him since he was in diapers!” Rejection…in Chambersburg!
Jesus opened the eyes of his hearers and make them look at a place in their own hearts—and the bitter fact was that they did not like what they saw.
Let’s draw two lessons from this dramatic homecoming scene.
The first is intended for those who have the duty to preach. So for me it is rather personal. Those ordained to preach should preach the truth of God’s word with courage even if those truths are unpopular, controversial, or considered “hot button issues.” It is important however that a homilist should never send parishioners away on “flat tires.” His duty is not a wag a finger or discourage his hearers but invite them to ongoing conversion. Homilies should inspire people to a greater, more ardent love of God’s word. Homilies should prompt or stimulate people to a greater, more faithful obedience to God’s word. That is a tall order to be sure, and I cannot claim that I have always met that task—priesthood after all, is always a work in progress.
But if homilist have a duty, so also those who hear them. This brings me to the second lesson. People “in the pews” should come to Mass with open and receptive hearts and minds to what is proclaimed and explained. Coming to Mass with a critical spirit or hard heart, closes one off to what God wants for our life. We miss what can be so life-giving and transformative when we “shut down” when the homilist is not the priest or deacon we prefer.
If we welcome the comforts of God’s word, we should also welcome its challenges. We should leave Mass not just “feeling good” but also challenged to evaluate our attitudes and the events of life in the light of Sacred Scripture.
With his characteristic candor, Cardinal Carlo Martini of Milan wrote:
“Sunday Mass often goes over our heads without filling our hearts and changing our lives. We keep feeling that the word of God and the daily news make up two separate worlds. Our life could be filled with light by an…attentive contact with the Word. But instead, we pass it by because we are resigned to live in darkness and are too lazy to do anything about it. Why don’t we shake ourselves from his lethargy and get down to making the treasure we possess productive?”
This was the challenge passed up by the people of Nazareth but posed to us at every Mass!