He was amazed at their unbelief.

Transcription

1 He was amazed at their unbelief. THE REVEREND WILLIAM O. DANIEL, JR., PHD 21 Main Street Geneseo, New York Phone: In Nashville, Tennessee, where Amanda and I lived while in college, there is an exact replica of the Parthenon in Athens, fully equipped with the four-story statue of the goddess Athena at its center Nashville once being labeled the Athens of the South, for all of its institutions of higher learning. And as part of my Art History class in college, we took a field trip to the faux Parthenon with the assignment to find a painting that, as our professor said, Spoke to us. We were tasked with writing an essay about a work of art, which to this freshman, college student from the backwoods of South Carolina seemed a rather esoteric exercise. There was at least some part of me that thought if college were going to be like this all the way through, perhaps college wasn t for me. Nevertheless, I played along, never having had much difficulty making up a good story, certainly not for a professor who struck me as being rather sentimental. Dr. Christianson was a pianist with five small children that The Miracle of the Ordinary: Sermon Preached in Saint Michael s Church, Geneseo, New York, July 5, 2015

2 Page 2 always seemed to be roaming unexpectedly about the campus. He was one of the most sincere men I have ever met earnest to his core, and I set out to find a painting that would make for a good tearjerker. I found myself in a back corner of the building with dim lighting, and hanging lonely on a large wall was a small painting of a shipwrecked boat, broken and tattered on the shore perfect material for the waves of life, I thought. I created some storybook tale about how life has tossed me to and fro, often loosening my sails and breaking my mast, yet somehow God still managed to bring me ashore, and in my brokenness I saw the handiwork of God. It was a beautiful essay if I do say so myself. I got an A+ on the assignment, with a heartfelt note from Dr. Christianson for how reading myself into the painting moved him, a response I properly mocked with my roommate as any mature college freshman would. Strangely enough, I have revisited that painting on

3 Page 3 numerous occasions through my adulthood, which has often served as a catalyst for seeing God in times of trial. Today we find Jesus going home to Nazareth, as if he s been away at college and he is home for the holidays. He goes to the synagogue and is invited to speak to the congregation. Before he ever opens his mouth, all the women in the town are whispering to each other, My how he s grown. Doesn t his hair look nice? I wonder if he got those sandals in the city. Jesus utters a few prophetic words, but the people take no notice. They simply continue with their pleasantries, He still has those adorable cheeks and big brown eyes. He always was the nicest boy. Jesus continues teaching, then he says that the prophecy has been fulfilled in their midst and all of a sudden the dynamic in the room shifts. Wait just a minute. Who do you think you are, Jesus, coming in here like you re better than everyone else? Have you forgotten that we both lived on Second Street growing up? What makes you so special all of a sudden?

4 Page 4 It s hard to see what you re not looking for. Or, rather, we only ever see what we re looking for. The people of Nazareth saw Mary s boy, the kid who grew up down the street, the boy who was always making mischief like the others, however nice he may have been. And we know that the Son of God could never be our neighbor. God would never live a backwater town like Nazareth. God could never be so down to earth, so ordinary. Yet down to earth may very well be the best description of Christ, incarnation pun here intended. But this is exactly what we don t want from God, isn t it? We want what the people of Nazareth wanted: we want the Jesus who wows us with fireworks from heaven; the Jesus who calls down the angel armies, not the Jesus across the street who knocks on the door to borrow a cup of flour. We don t want to look for Jesus in the single mother who can t control her children, and we certainly don t need that Jesus

5 Page 5 who hangs on a cross and dies. That Jesus is all too ordinary. And Jesus, we are told, could do no deeds of power in Nazareth, because of their lack of faith. Mark tells us that Jesus was too familiar that the people could not see him as one sent by God. And at first glance it seems as though Christ s ability to act is contingent upon our measure of faith, which has led many a Christian to claim that, The reason you re still suffering is because you still have doubt. Or, If I believe enough, then I will be able to pick the winning lottery numbers. If only life with God were so. If only how much we believed did move God to act. If only a strong enough faith could effect the miraculous. But as Paul reminds the people of Corinth, it is in our weakness that we find God; it is when we are exhausted that we begin to recognize God; it is when we look for God in the ordinary, that we begin to see the miraculous. It is also recognizing that God will not impose his love on us. The same God who created us without us, says Saint

6 Page 6 Augustine, will not save us without us. Our lack of faith does not render God impotent. Deeds of power come, however, not when we seek the miraculous, but when we begin to see the miracle of Christ in the ordinary, everydayness of life. When we are weak, says Paul, when we stop pretending to have it all together, then do we see God. And when we see God in the weakness of others, recognizing that their needs their weakness are our needs, our weakness, then do we see Jesus. We recognize the love of God at work in Jesus of Nazareth only when we love our neighbor as Christ. For only love can recognize love. The love of God is perceived when we forget all that we think we know about God all that we think we know about our neighbors and, for that matter, all that we think we know about ourselves but instead learn to receive Christ from the most unlikely of people to look for Christ in the extraordinarily ordinary.

7 Page 7 Every time I am troubled by something, especially when it is a complicated matter, I return to that painting I saw in the Parthenon in Nashville, Tennessee, and I recall the lines of fiction from my essay that have proved true on numerous occasions. And that is this: that tired and battered boat, while barely intact, made it ashore and the sun was shining. When I first saw the painting, I was looking for an easy A on an assignment, and I got it. But over time I have learned to see the painting looking back at me to hear what that rackety, storm tossed boat has to say about me. And through this simple, seemingly esoteric exercise, I have learned to open myself to being interpreted by the lives of others, both when I am weak and when they are weak. I saw Christ on Thursday when I was at the DMV, of all places, getting our New York tags. There was a mother with two uncontrollable children wandering about the room. Numerous, condescending looks were raised upon

8 Page 8 the mother, who for one reason or another was bearing more than she could handle. The two children, who I found quite entertaining, as is easy to do when they are not your children causing the calamity, made their way to the empty sofa adjacent to mine. They were four and two, although the two-year-old boy swore he was nine. We had the most delightful conversation about purple ants, which I admitted to never having seen, but they assured me that purple ants don t bite, which I found encouraging. As they fluttered away with mom my number was called, and as I reached the counter the attendant informed me that that woman needed to control her children. I said, It must be the purple ants. She gave me a confused look and we went about the business of changing our car s title and tags. I was reminded in the encounter of how difficult it can be to see Christ when you re not looking for him. But when we stop imposing ourselves on others and learn, rather, to receive ourselves from others, we will see Jesus, we will recognize him for who he truly is, and in so doing deeds of power will fill our lives. Amen.