Sermon: "Only a Couple of People Were Healed," July 4, 2021

“No Miracles Here,” Nathan Coley, 2007-2009. Scottish Gallery of National Art.

Preacher: The Rev. Ryan Slifka
Scripture: Mark 6:1-13

Today’s scripture has Jesus coming off a hat-trick of healings. In chapter five he cast out a legion of unclean spirits, shoving them into a herd of pigs and then ran them off a cliff. Then a woman suffering from hemorrhages for twelve years was healed by grabbing the hem of his cloak. Then he revived a young girl named Tabitha from death to life. Jesus was on a roll. Demons cast out, internal bleeding cured, little girl raised from the dead. It was one miracle after another after another. Boom, boom, boom.

Suddenly, though, Jesus’ hot streak comes to an end. And in the place you’d maybe least expect it. Nazareth, the place of his birth.

We’re told that while in Nazareth, Jesus wanders into the local synagogue one Saturday, and lays down a lesson on God’s coming kingdom, God entering into history to set the world right for good. They can’t believe how articulate and passionate this guy is. I mean, they’ve known Jesus from the time he was in diapers. They’ve seen him as an awkward teenager struggling with acne, and the last time they saw him he was a carpenter, a tradesman. Now suddenly this guy’s an expert on the scriptures, a prophet, a preacher. This guy? Little Jesus, Mary’s son? We know who this guy is. Yeah right. And so we’re told that Jesus couldn’t do a “deed of power” there, except for laying his hands on and curing a couple sick people. Jesus, it says, is “amazed at their disbelief.” The people closest to Jesus, who grew up around him, think they know him inside and out, and don’t believe a word he says! And so, we’re told, his power there is greatly diminished.

Contrast this, though, with what happens next. Jesus leaves Nazareth. He hops from town to town teaching. He sends his disciples out to the rest, equipped with barely anything but a staff. No bread, no bag, no money in their belts. Just sandals and a shirt. They go, and it tells us that they “cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.”

I mean, what a difference from Nazareth! In the NHL, NBA, CFL, teams have what’s called a “hometown advantage.” They’re more likely to win at home. Instead, Jesus has a hometown disadvantage. As soon as he rolls in to Nazareth, he hits a slump, whereas when he and the disciples reach the city limits its exorcisms and healings galore. He’s a hit among strangers, but among the people who already know him he’s running up against a big brick wall.

Now, my guess is that no one here literally grew up with Jesus in his home town. Safe bet. But, as a culture, we’ve grown up with him, so to speak. Or Christianity, anyway.

North America, Europe, these are all places formerly known as Christendom, or Christ’s dominion. For more than a thousand years, even longer in some places, Christianity’s been the dominant religion and culture. For better or worse. It hasn’t all been rainbows and sunshine, this much is true. But tradition, the Bible, the church have all been huge. They’ve permeated just about everything from art, to literature, to TV, ethics and our common calendar. We’ve grown up as a culture and a society with Jesus. He’s very familiar to us. We know him quite well. This isn’t Jesus’ literal hometown, but it has been Christianity’s home turf.

And despite this familiarity, just like in Nazareth Jesus just can’t get much traction here at all. Despite the fact that 55% of Canadians identify as Christian, only about 13% attend a faith community on a regular basis. Many churches continue to shrink and decline, while antipathy, and occasional hostility continue to grow. Many of us are like the crowd at the synagogue who take immediate offense at Jesus. One of the most common struggles that some of us here have is the fact that our children and grandchildren who we brought to Sunday School every week now have nothing to do with faith or church at all. All the while Christianity continues to grow all over the world, especially Africa and Asia. It’s like the contrast in today’s scripture. Jesus has little power among we who know him best, and the unbelief can be astounding. While in unfamiliar places all over the globe we see disciples marching two-by two winning over villages here, and there and everywhere. It can be worrisome and demoralizing for those of us who continue to put Jesus at the center of our lives.

Why is that? In a culture so primed, one that knows Jesus so well, one so shaped by and indebted to the faith, why is there so little uptake, and so much unbelief?

Part of this, of course, has to do with the past sins of Christians and the church. The church’s collusion with the state’s assimilation project in Residentials Schools is a very obvious and painfully contemporary example. Mix that in with experiencing the outright meanness of some individual believers, and the faith ends up with a tarnished brand.

That’s part of it. But there’s something more, I think. The old proverb “familiarity breeds contempt” comes to mind. Being the hometown crowd—like the good people of Nazareth—we are too familiar with a certain idea of who Jesus is. Christianity’s all about judgment. It’s racist, sexist, homophobic, old-fashioned, silly, and anti-science. It’s all about moral regulation, of ourselves, but mostly other people. It’s about ratcheting up our guilt, and shame, and saddling us with impossible demands. It’s all about preserving the status quo. We figure we have Christianity figured out. We figure we already know who Jesus is and what he’s all about. And so like the crowd at Nazareth, we just can’t see anything more or different. Our only response is offence. Its offence. We figure we already know who he is, and want nothing to do with him. Or his people.

But we’re wrong. We’re wrong. I mean, of course the faith’s been interpreted this way before. And its been enacted this way before. But it’s wrong. And you need only pay attention to the text itself. Texts like this one especially. Are Jesus and co. going around beating up on people? Shaming, condemning? Are they lording power over them? No! They’re healing them. They’re casting out demons, freeing people from spiritual bondage, and raising them out of physical slavery. Elsewhere they’re feeding multitudes of hungry people, pronouncing forgiveness to sinners, giving hope to the hopeless, and advocating for the oppressed. They’re proclaiming Good News, and calling everyone to repentance, which means a change of mind, a turning away from death to life. And if nobody’s interested they just dust off their feet and move on.

Like the hometown team at Nazareth we have this pre-understanding, deeply set misunderstanding. We think we already know Jesus, we already got the faith figured out. But we don’t. It doesn’t even register as a possibility. As beautiful and compelling as it may be.

So what do we do then? Our culture’s unbelief is the kind of nut that even Jesus can’t seem to crack. And we can’t somehow change the culture on a massive scale. At least not all at once. It can be kind of discouraging. What are we supposed to do?

Well, we can start by—again—paying close attention to the text.

Of course, Jesus doesn’t get much traction in his hometown. They take offense at him, and he’s amazed at their unbelief. He’s only able to lay his hands on a couple sick people and cure them. Now, this sounds like a complete and utter disaster. A pointless failure. But… two people are healed. It’s hard to see in comparison to the successful second half of our reading, miracles, crowds all over the place. But two people are healed, in spite of unbelief. No matter how overly familiar and assuming Nazareth is, they can’t keep a lid on Jesus. A couple healed people may not seem like much. But it says that no matter how closed off, no matter how skeptical, no matter how downright hostile a culture may be, it can’t stop the healing and liberating power of God.

And really, we know this is true, because it’s why we’re here today. It’s why you’re tuning in right now. This community of faith has its stories of healing, hope and liberation, even within a culture that’s closed itself to these possibilities. We’ve been given the strength to keep on the wagon when everything in us wants otherwise. We’ve encountered the power of forgiveness has freed us from decades of debilitating guilt. We’ve stepped on a solid foundation on which to raise our kids in the face of an uncertain future, cultivated friendships that have kept us going when we wanna quit life altogether, and a community where a weekly Word of hope delivers us from a pandemic of despair. These are all true statements and stories attached to real people. Even though our culture has closed itself to the sacred, has shut itself off from the divine, we know because we have our two people, and then some.

So what are we gonna do? What are we supposed to do?

Well, we’re not gonna let this get us down. Instead, we’re gonna modify our measurements accordingly. We’re not gonna gauge our faithfulness by our cultural influence or authority. We’re not gonna become fixated on the good ol’ days no matter how good they were, and we’re not gonna measure our success solely by the size of the crowd—as nice as crowds may be. No. We’re gonna let ourselves drop our assumptions about God, that we already get the faith, or have Jesus downpat. And we’re gonna look for God’s liberating work person-by-person instead. We’re gonna trust that healing is possible in spite of mathematical odds, or cultural antipathy. And we’re gonna be willing to share the Good News of Jesus Christ. Whether we end up numbering two or two thousand, that’s what we’re gonna do. Because we know that where ever Jesus may go, he’s gonna find a couple people, and the Holy Spirit’s gonna bring healing, gonna bring life in the full to somebody. Could be me, it could be you. If only we’re willing to receive it, and believe that it’s true. That’s what we’re gonna do. Let us pray.

O God of grace and mercy,
you are alive and active in the world;
you bring love to the loveless,
healing to the sick of soul,
and hope to those who despair;
Whether we close ourselves off from you
through stubbornness or misunderstanding,
we pray that that you open our eyes that we may see you anew.

Let us not count our success by wins and losses,
but by the power of your presence where two or three are gathered in your name.

Encourage us by your living Word,
and empower us by your Spirit to share your gospel without anxiety or worry,
to a world in such need of Good News.
In the name of the carpenter, Mary’s son, your Son our Savior. Amen.