Reading the story of Jesus and the people of Nazareth the day he preached in the synagogue about the day of the Lord’s favour – the day of practicing God’s loving salvation of those who suffer, is a lot like reading The Hamilton Spectator and the reactions of different people in Hamilton to the Syrian refugee crisis and attempts to respond to it.
On
one hand, there is the ready response of compassion and openness – the reaching
out, a willingness to love and care for, to bring people over to safety and a
good place to live and work and raise their families, with support and
resources to help them get started.
And
on the other hand, reaction against that kind of openness and generosity. At first it was framed around issues of
security – why open ourselves to terrorists who could slip in with the refugees? Then when we got over that, it was why are we
doing this? Don’t we have enough people
already homeless and poor who need help?
Charity begins at home. Why not
deal with the poverty and inequity we already have in education, employment,
health care, social services before trying to share what we have with refugees?
The
debate has carried on in coffee shops, on radio talk shows, in letters to the
editor, in communities of faith and even within families. At times it’s been heated and angry, and the
sides have been willing to see and describe the other as misguided, foolish,
bleeding-heart liberals who are going to bankrupt us all, or as narrow-minded
bigots who don’t understand what makes our country good, and who themselves
should leave or even be deported.
Each
side is willing to generalize and judge the other, throw them under a bus, or
onto a plane and out of the country – at least try to kick them out of the
conversation – maybe throw them off a cliff into the pile at the bottom of all
those we don’t want to listen to, or have to talk to any more, so we can get on
with what we think is right.
And
Jesus is probably not surprised at any of this.
He knows us – knows humanity, pretty well.
My
guess is that when Jesus sits down in the synagogue of Nazareth after reading
the promise in Isaiah of the coming of the year of the Lord’s favour – the year
of putting into practice God’s compassion for those who suffer, and he follows
it up with a reminder to the people of Nazareth that God often shows compassion
first to the outsiders who suffer – not to the insiders of the covenant
community, he knows what kind of reaction he will provoke. And when he then goes on to say that that’s
why he is not going to do for Nazareth all the things they hear he has done for
Capernaum, even though Nazareth is his home town and he is their home-boy messiah,
and Capernaum is just a dirty town of Roman influence and pagan ways, he knows
exactly how hurt and cheated they will feel – how angry they will get – angry
enough to throw him off the cliff at the edge of town.
Maybe
he’s seen it happen to others in the heat of arguments about God and faith and
the right thing to do. He knows the way
humanity can turn in anger and fear and judgement upon itself and against the
fullness and mystery of God. And he
decides to push it – maybe because then at least it will be in the open, and will
have to be – or at least can be dealt with.
So
he does, and it is, and then at the edge of the cliff where those who are angry
with him are ready to throw him over, he simply turns, maybe looks them long
and lovingly and sadly in the face, passes through the midst of them and goes on
his way – back to Capernaum of all places, where the next sabbath day he is once
again in the synagogue doing more healing for the people there.
And
the people of Nazareth? I wonder how
they deal with their anger? With the
breach in their community? With the
challenge Jesus raises to their understanding of what it means to be a
community of faith in God who promises to save those who suffer?
Does
it need to be so all or nothing? So
either/or? So us or them?
The
church – the Christian community in Corinth faced that question in another way
– in its own way. The Christian
community there is very gifted and talented – rich in terms of ministries and
works and things they can do for one another and for the kingdom of God in their
city. But in this they have become divided
and fractured – so many different talents and gifts and leaders, doing differing
things, leading in a variety of directions, expressing differing visions for
who they should be and what they should do as a community of faith, that
they’re starting to get on each other’s nerves, to mistrust and resent one
another, describe and treat one another
not as friends and allies and brothers and sisters, but as competitors and even
enemies to the good of the church.
Paul
is heart-broken to hear of this. He
imagines the sorrow of God at their dividedness, and the passion of Jesus being
relived in this breaking of the unity of the body. So he does what he knows how to do from a
distance. He writes them a letter which
he knows they will read aloud in their gatherings, and that he can only hope
they will take to heart.
He
talks about and affirms their gifts and talents, the different things they can
do and that they’re good at. He corrects
a few misunderstandings along the way.
And then when he gets around to the question they all want the answer to
– the question of which gift really, is the best of all, and what way of all
that are open to them should they follow, Paul puts them all in their place by
saying it’s the gift and the way of love.
Love
of one another that is really love of God.
Love that looks beyond the lines we too easily draw, towards the
fullness of the mystery of God. Love
that does not rest with either division or distance, but seeks the unity of
God’s good will in and for the goodness of the other and the well-being of all
– whether the other be a needy neighbour or a suffering stranger, a ready ally
or a troublesome and challenging foe.
Love that remembers that each of us has part – and only part, of the
truth, and that all of us – especially in our differences, are needed to be
able to live and speak and work together towards the wholeness of what God
desires and intends for us and for all the world.
I
wonder if the members of the community in Corinth listened. The letter was saved; we still have it, so some
at least must have. I wonder what
difference it made to their community, and how they went about making that
difference?
And
if Paul were in Hamilton and Niagara – maybe even a member here, or one of us,
what would he write to us in the differences and divisions we sometimes suffer
as we try to do and push for what we think is right? As we try to be God’s people in our part of
the world? And is there some different
way we would try to go about it?
No comments:
Post a Comment