This was posted at Episcopal Cafe's
Speaking to the Soul on July 5, 2015.
I bought a new plant the other day. It was a hibiscus, but
it didn’t have a tag as to its specific variety, so the lady at the nursery
gave me 25% off on it. It was like a mystery hibiscus. None of its buds were open,
clenched instead like a toddler’s fist, but the outside of the buds was yellow,
and it was sitting with other yellow hibiscus, so I assumed it would be…
yellow.
Surprise! It was not yellow. All the assumptions I made
about it besides that it was indeed a hibiscus were incorrect. I thought it
would be lovely, but it totally defied all my expectations.
It seems like the last few weeks, we have been hearing about
miracles in our worship. Today, we get an interesting side discussion about the
power of expectations. Jesus returns to his hometown in our gospel today, and
his former neighbors, rather than embracing him, react with disbelief to his
ministry. When they look at Jesus, all
they can see is “the carpenter’s son,” or “the brother of James.” They have him
pegged in a certain way, and they are unwilling to consider that Jesus could be
anyone other than who they understand him to be. It is often said that “you
can’t go home again.” The problem is that often, home is not as you remembered
it, and that’s further complicated by the fact that YOU are not as your
neighbors and family remember you, either.
In our parish, we have been following the story of David in
track one of the lectionary, and this Sunday’s reading has the people of the
northern kingdom coming to David and asking him to rule them as well as the
tribes of Judah he has been leading for seven years. David also has been a
person who has defied expectations. When first introduced, he was just a young
sheep-herder, who surprisingly became a great warrior. It took years for him to
be accepted as a great leader, even with the favor of God resting upon him. In
Jesus’s case, he had spent years there in Galilee, and his neighbors expect him
to be a simple carpenter still, as he was before he left them. They expect him
to be living a simple life like his brothers and sisters-- and his sisters,
like so many women in scripture, are considered so nondescript that they don’t
even get names. Those expectations of anonymity get confounded, however, the
second Jesus opens his mouth and rolls up his sleeves. And the crowd does not
like it.
The assumption is that Jesus has changed. Suddenly Jesus is
preaching with authority. Suddenly he has a reputation as a healer and miracle
worker. The problem is that Jesus was no longer rooted to that one particular
place and that one particular identity, and that unsettles those who not only
think they know him, but think they have Jesus pegged and filed away neatly
under the “unexceptional” category.
Jesus was able to perform no deeds of power in the presence
of his own kith and kin, because they did not have faith—in him, in his
ministry, or even in themselves. They were meant to be simple rural folk—who
was this stranger who appeared among them full of startling wisdom? Worse, they
not only did not believe in him, they “took offense at him.” You can almost
hear it now: “Just who does he think he is?” And behind that question is always
this question: “Does he think he’s better than us?” Due to his own people’s
lack of faith in him, the one who could calm storms and cast out demons and
bring little girls back to life could do only heal a few people in his own
country. Those who are incapable of faith in something often also have a hard
time allowing themselves to hope, much less allow miracles to spring up right
in front of them.
Many of us are like Jesus in that respect- we are
electrified and transformed by the faith of others, which often strengthens our
faith in ourselves. Just under a month ago here in St. Louis, the doors to our
own
Magdalene House, inspired by the original founded in Nashville by the Rev.
Becca Stevens, opened its doors to its first residents. Hopefully many of us
got to hear the
magnificent sermon by this visionary woman during the General
Convention Eucharist on July 1.
Framing this as a new venture in St. Louis would overlook
the years and countless hours of work done by hundreds of supporters and
volunteers and executive staff to get to this point. The goal of this organization is to support women
escaping life on the streets, addiction, prostitution, and abuse. It is to show
these women that others have faith in them and to have faith in themselves, so
that they can have the power within themselves unleashed. They are given the
space and the time to bloom where they are planted.
Perhaps a definition of a miracle is an event
that not just defies but shatters expectations. Last week our gospel told the
story of a woman who was healed of a terrible illness through the faith to just
brush her fingers along the tassel of the robe of a healer. These women will be
lifted up by hundreds of hands of people who believe in their power and
strength, and together that faith can work miracles. Faith breeds hope, and
hope breeds love, and love heals. And that, my friends, is a miracle.
