Homily                                                  

                                                                                                                              

                                          

July 9, 2006

Fourteenth Sunday of Ordinary Time (B)

Dr.  Susan Fleming McGurgan

 

Ezek 2:2-5    X       2 Cor 12:7-10     X   Mark 6:1-6


       
Before he returned to Nazareth,
he had driven out demons,
silenced a storm,
healed a woman who touched his robe,
and raised Jairus' daughter from the dead.

He matched wits with the Pharisees, 
amazed the crowds,
and gathered a large group 
of devoted disciples. 

Yet,
when he returned 
to his own home town, 
this miracle worker 
was unable to perform any mighty deeds.

Is he not the carpenter, 
the son of Mary? 
Don't we know him? 
Where did this man 
get all of this?

In other words,

Who
does he think he is?

And they took offense at him. 

We sometimes use this passage to show

How a lack of faith 
can cut us off from miracles.

or how we can be blind to God's messengers, 
even when they walk beside us. 

or how hard it can be to proclaim the Gospel 
to the people you know the best.

This event, 
early in the ministry of Jesus
holds up a mirror to our own experience.

It happened two thousand years ago,
and yet it happens every day-

the woman who can leave her past behind--
anywhere but home. 

the priest whose sermons are always inspiring-
to everyone but his sisters. 

the man who listens carefully for the voice of God,
but never hears his friends. 

the person who prays daily for miracles,
but is blind to the ordinary gifts of life.

This passage reminds us 
that God shares the Gospel with us every day, 
even when we are too afraid to hear it. 

It reminds us 
that God longs to heal us,
even when we are too stubborn to know we are broken. 

It reminds us 
that God will send us messengers, 
even when we are too blind to see them clearly. 

The people of Nazareth 
were suffering from a particular form of blindness-
a blindness that sometimes affects us, too. 

They couldn't recognize the holiness of Jesus,
because they had never really accepted their own. 

They couldn't honor his relationship with God
because they had never fully explored
their own kinship with the Lord. 

They couldn't see the Messiah 
standing right beside them, 
because he looked too much like home.

Isn't he one of us?, they muttered. 
Don't we know him? 
How, then, could he be special?

The Gospel must never be reduced 
to easy answers or glib promises. 
Its power can't be replaced by pop psychology
or the latest talk-show jargon. 

Yet, 
our acceptance of the Gospel message
depends, 
at least in part,
on the belief that we are worthy 
to receive that message. 

Until we see ourselves 
as people beloved of God,
miracles will seem scarce
and the prophets and messengers who rise among us
will struggle to be heard. 

That day in Nazareth, 
Jesus stood in the synagogue 
to proclaim freedom for the captives 
and release to the prisoners.

His life, death, and resurrection
testify 
to the power of that freedom. 

His message continues to free us,
not only from prisons built by others, 
but from the barriers we construct ourselves.

Don't we know him? 
Isn't he one of us?

In the end, 
maybe these questions show-
not so much a lack of faith--
but the beginnings of it. 

©Susan Fleming McGurgan

 

 

 

 

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