No Honor for Hometown Prophets

"He was amazed at their lack of faith."

That is what Saint Mark tells us about Jesus at the end of today's gospel. "He was amazed at their lack of faith."

You will often here Christians say that they wish they had lived in Biblical times, especially in Jesus' day. They'll get all misty eyed and say in a wishful tone some some thing like, "Wouldn't it have been great to been alive when Jesus was, to hear him speak and see him perform miracles?" Often underlying that nostalgia is a certainty that they would have been the ones who really listened and followed Jesus with all their heart. Let's hope so.

The reality, however, may have been very different. In the gospel reading, Jesus returns to his hometown of Nazareth. At first the people are impressed. They are impressed by Jesus wisdom and by his miracles. He comes from a good family...As they think about it, St. Mark tells us "they took offense at him." Why?

They took offense at him after they began to think about is family. His teaching and his miracles were fine until they remembered he's one of us! Who does he think he is? Is he trying to impress us by coming back here? Trying to show off is more like it! But we know his family; and they're--so ordinary.(Which only shows they didn't really know his family at all!) He's just a carpenter. "He's the son of Mary"; no proper pedigree for him! That's what Jesus' hometown folks thought of him. Do you think you'd really be any different?

Ezekiel call such people "hard of face and obstinate of heart; a rebellious house." Saint Paul knew such people. He knew weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions and constraints for the sake of Christ. Because of things God had revealed to him in prayer, God gave Paul "a thorn in the flesh" to keep him from getting to proud. All this taught Paul to trust God in his weakness so he could show the power of Christ.

"He was amazed at their lack of faith." Jesus knew that he, even as a prophet, was not welcome. Because of their unbelief, Jesus could only cure a few sick people. They were probably the only ones willing to give Jesus the benefit of the doubt--an that was enough faith for them to be healed.

At this Mass, in this Eucharist, Jesus will be among us. He will be as real as he was that day in Nazareth. In fact, even more real because in the Eucharist we partake of the risen and glorified Christ! How is your faith? Do you think that you know Jesus in his Church? Does his family put you off? Will Jesus be unable to do any mighty works here because of our unbelief? Will he be "amazed at our lack of faith?" Or, like Paul, will we know that it in our weakness that we will find the power of Christ?

A Tale of Two Healings

Have you been to a doctor lately? I went in March for what turned out to be a upper respiratory infection (fancy name for a head cold!). Since then I have gone to my primary several times for other things needing treatment, I've been referred to 3 other doctors, and had a endless series of tests! To paraphrase St. Mark, I have suffered greatly at the hands of many doctors and have spent all that I had!

Sunday's gospel tell the story of Jesus' healing two women: one old, one young. He is one his way to heal the daughter of Jairus, the synogogue official, when he is interrrupted by someone touching his cloak. Imagine being in the think of the crowds in mid-town Manhatten at Christmas time, being bumped and jostled by your fellow shoppers and asking your friends, "Who touched my coat?" They'd look at you as if to say "Everybody!"

That is the disiples reaction to Jesus when he asks "Who touched my clothes?" But it wasn't just that his clothes had been touched. St. Mark tells us that Jesus was "aware at once that power had gone out from him." He knew the touch had been a healing one. The woman's hemorrhage had stopped. She had hoped to touch his cloak, be healed and slip away.

Jesus had other plans. He knew that power had gone out from him, that someone had been healed physically. He also knew the healing wasn't complete, so he asks "Who touched my clothes?" to draw her out. She comes to him in fear and trembling and tells Jesus what she did. He says to her, "Daughter, your faith has saved you.
Go in peace and be cured of your affliction." Her hemorrhage had made her an outsider, ritually impure. Jesus restores he by calling her "daughter" and promising her peace. Healed of her disease and restored to fellowship, her healing is complete.

But now Jairus has received the tragic news that his daughter has died; might as well let Jesus get back to what he was doing. Did Jairus blame Jesus for the delay, for his daughters death? Sensing his fear, Jesus reassures him, "Do not be afraid; just have faith."

Arriving at what is now a house in full mourning, with people weeping and wailing, Jesus says, "Why this commotion and weeping? The child is not dead but asleep." Asleep? Why the country bumpkin preacher from Galilee thinks she's asleep? Would we be in mourning if she was just taking a nap?

Of course Jesus knows she's dead. It's just that to him death is so temporary that she might as well be asleep. He puts the mourners out of her room and he took along the child's father and mother and those who were with him, Peter James and John, and entered her room. This is for family; hers and his.You can hear the tenderness in his voice mingled with a rebuke of death as he says "Talitha koum," which means, "Little girl, I say to you, arise!" And she does. Then there were two more things to say to the family. First,he gave strict orders that no one should know this
and second, that she should be given something to eat. She's been dead, she must be hungry!

The woman with the hemorrhage Jesus calls "Daughter". The dead girl, he calls "little girl." If Jesus was to come to heal you, what would he call you? Maybe you're not dead--yet. Maybe you're sick in body, mind or soul. What ever your need. Jesus will call you softly and tenderly. He will call you daughter or son or little girl or mom or dad. He will call you out of your sickness, your need and into his family. That is why we are hear at this Mass: to worship our Father, to receive his Son and to be filled with his Holy Spirit. We are here to be the family of God.

Riders on the Storm—A Reflection on the 12th Sunday of Ordinary Time

Have you ever been caught outside in a bad storm like the disciples were? In the 8th or 9th grade my dad, my mom and I were returning from a trip to Cape Cod. We were about 15 or 30 miles from home when the sky grew strangely dark. We stopped at a McDonald’s to get some lunch, but I was to nervous to eat! OK, maybe a fry or two. As we drove home, the clouds turned a sickly green-black as large rain drops began to fall. Coming down the road to our house, we found a small tree across the road. My dad drove around to the other end of the road to our house only to see a large oak lying across the front of our house. As I went inside, I saw my brother and sister holding up a tarp to let the water pouring through a hole in our roof go out the front door. The oak that had fallen had driven the branch of another tree through the roof! That day in 1972 a tornado had come through our town.

In the gospel a violent storm comes up as the disciples are crossing the Sea of Galilee. As they are being swamped, Saint Mark tells us that Jesus was asleep in the stern. I imagine the disciples thought of today’s psalm that tells of another storm on the sea. I wonder if it really was another storm, or did the psalmist in his prayer prophesy of the storm the disciples found themselves in? The events are remarkably similar!

They wake Jesus up, accusing the only one that can save them of not caring that they are perishing. Sound familiar? Don’t we often accuse Jesus of not caring about our dire straights even as we ask him to save us from them? Jesus calms the storm, the immediate threat is over, but a much greater danger is still with the disciples and with us. Jesus asks all of us that most terrifying of questions, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?”

Imagine Jesus looking you in the eyes and asking that question. Why are you terrified? Why are you terrified of losing your job? Why are you terrified of not being able to sell your house? Why are you terrified of falling ill? Why are you terrified of losing your savings? Why are you terrified of your marriage? Why are you terrified of wars and rumors of wars? Why are you terrified of your children losing the faith? Why are you terrified of swine flu? Why are you terrified of the Democrats? Why are you terrified of the Republicans? Why are you terrified of our schools? Why are you terrified of the Church? Why are you terrified of whatever causes you to think that Jesus is asleep and you’re on your own in the storm?

Now imagine Jesus saying to those terrors in your life “Quiet! Be still!” And there is “great calm.”

Notice that Jesus asked the disciples why they were terrified after he had calmed the storm. The danger was over. He doesn’t ask why they were terrified, but why they are terrified. What is Mark trying to teach us in this gospel?

Is it that Jesus can command and “even the wind and sea obey.” Job tells us that God controls the sea, shutting it within doors and setting limits on how far it can go. Jesus is the Lord of the forces of nature for he is their Creator. Yes, the wind and sea obey him.

I think St. Mark has a deeper truth in mind. The storm is over; there is great calm. Then Jesus asks them, “Why are you terrified? Do you not yet have faith?” Why? Not because they are still afraid of the storm. That’s over. They are afraid of Jesus! In his great power over nature, Jesus has calmed the storm. And what is their reaction? “Who is then is this that even the wind and sea obey?” Their terror over the storm is now terror over Jesus who stilled it. Jesus is now revealed before them as having power over the great chaotic forces of life and nature the storm and sea represent. They did not understand this about him. The Jesus that asks them why they are afraid is no longer just their teacher who was asleep and apparently unconcerned. He is Lord! He speaks and he is obeyed. This is what terrifies them. He is not who they thought he was, he is more. He is a stranger and his strangeness terrifies them.

Think of what terrifies you. You have prayed and prayed about it. Then Jesus speaks a word to you and whatever was causing your fear is gone. The problem may still be there, but your fear is replaced by a great calm. Jesus has stilled your storm in your life. Tell me, aren’t you a little in awe? You have witnessed God perform a miracle and you’re just OK with that? No big deal? I think if we thought for three seconds about what Jesus had just done for us, we would be as terrified as the disciples were: not in abject fear, but in wondrous awe of our Lord. He is not who we thought he was, he is more. He is a stranger and his strangeness terrifies us.

Yet, he invites us to receive him in the Eucharist. As we taste and see the goodness of the Lord in this Mass remember that the same Jesus who calms the storm is giving himself to you. Be not afraid, but receive him in reverence and awe.