February 3 Sermon

Luke 4:21-30

This morning we’ll begin with a personal story as told by David Lose. Growing up in a parsonage—somewhere in Lancaster County, I think—he taught a number of years at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota, and then became president of the Lutheran Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. Now he serves as senior pastor at Mt. Olivet Lutheran Church

in Minneapolis. Here’s his story.

[I have] preached at my home congregation, and it can be rough…Last time…, two of my former soccer teammates sat right up front. They knew my temper and competitiveness, had heard me curse a bad call or mouth off to a ref[eree]. A few pews behind them sat a former teacher. [S]he knew how lazy I could be [and] how cocksure I was right. [M]y first girlfriend [also] was there. [S]he wasn’t even a member, but must’ve heard I was preaching. I won’t even tell you what she knew [about me].

…[T]hat’s…the thing—these people know me, and so it’s hard to preach, because familiarity…well, you know. The funny thing is that no matter how much they know, no matter how much they’ve seen or remember, they’re usually terribly…gracious, just glad to have [me] home, pleased that [I’ve] made good, proud of [my] accomplishment[s].

Then Dr. Lose said how it may have been somewhat that way for Jesus—in his home synagogue—when he stood up, read from the Book of Isaiah, then sat down to teach. The people he had grown up around—they were so impressed by him. “All spoke well of him…, amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.”

And then do things change! What in the world is happening? Suddenly, it seems as if Jesus has lost it, as if something has set him off. Instead of giving them a blessing, he says: “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.” He then reminds them of two stories about miracles. The first is from the First Book of Kings. There’s a terrible drought in the land,

and God sends the Prophet Elijah to a widow in a place called Zarephath —outside the Kingdom of Israel. In other words, she’s a foreigner. Still, she bakes a small cake for him with the last of her flour and oil. And then God provides. For the rest of the drought, for the remainder of the famine, the jar of meal does not become empty, and the jug of oil does not fail.

The second story—in 2 Kings—has to do with the prophet Elisha. A man named Naaman, a commander of the Syrian army, suffers from a form of skin disease. Word gets to him that in Israel is a man who can heal him. So he travels to the place where Elisha lives, sends a messenger to tell him about his predicament, and is told to immerse himself seven times in the Jordan River. He hesitates, but finally does as he is instructed—and is healed. Again, it’s a foreigner who has obeyed a prophet, thereby receiving a new lease on life.

As Jews, the people in Jesus’ hometown certainly know these stories. And they know what he’s implying—that they, like their ancestors, don’t even have as much faith as these two Gentiles did. And they don’t. Now not only has Jesus judged them harshly, 

but they too become angry—angry enough to kill him.

The question remains: Why does Jesus become so upset with them? As a commentator has said, as if talking to Jesus himself: “You just were being accepted [by them]. Everybody liked you. Everybody was speaking well of you. Everybody was amazed at your gracious words….You were doing so well.”

Some scholars suggest it has something to do with a question the people ask themselves: “Is not this Joseph’s son?” Maybe they have second thoughts. Maybe they’re thinking back to when he was a child and perhaps resent him for what he has become—a person so unlike themselves. Maybe they assume he thinks he’s superior. And so that’s what he’s reacting to.

That argument, though, is probably not it. It’s probably off the mark. Instead, what may be going on is that Jesus is reading their minds, is anticipating what they’re going to expect from him—what they’re about to say: “Do here also in your hometown the things…we have heard [that] you did at Capernaum.” 

Maybe they want to see for themselves whether he can perform right before their eyes the miracles that have already been reported to them. Maybe they want him to prove himself to the hometown crowd. However, more likely it’s something else: That is, they want to have him all to themselves. More likely they want to be the sole beneficiaries of his miraculous powers. After all, in a sense they have a claim on him, don’t they? He belongs to them, doesn’t he? They’re on the inside. All the rest are outsiders. What they may suffer from is an attitude of entitlement.

In our day and time, what are some examples of such an attitude? A few are fairly obvious:

• Sometimes people who are well off—and show it—believe they should be treated differently from others. Treated better.Much better. 

• Another source of entitlement—another characteristic that marks one’s place higher in the pecking order—is level of education. That may include those who are wealthy, but not necessarily. With or without money, a trophy wall in a work office may send the same message.

• I’ve lived in small towns—and some not so small—where a person’s name is what makes them feel entitled. Again, they may have money, but maybe not. They may well have a good education, but again maybe not that, either. In the end what counts for them—and often for many others—is who their parents are. Or their grandparents. Or even before them their ancestors. One’s lineage seems in the eyes of some to make them more special, more important.

Along these lines, an attitude of entitlement can belong to entire groups—including religious groups. I’m reminded of a line from the 1992 film, “A River Runs through It. It’s about a family that moves to Missoula, Montana, in the early twentieth century, when the area still has about it a frontier image, when things are still a bit on the wild side. The film—and the novel on which it’s based—revolves around the life of a young man growing up in the parsonage of a Presbyterian minister. Well, one day the older son introduces his new girlfriend to his parents. Telling them that she’s a Methodist, he recalls his father once saying, “You know what a Methodist is, don’t you? A Baptist who can read.” If that’s not an attitude of religious entitlement, then I don’t know what is!

On occasion, that attitude can even extend to entire countries. For example, when some people claim that the United States has been founded on Christian values, they are the same people who say, who believe, that we are a redeemer nation, that is, that we are special in the eyes of God. That then can mean, for some, that the saying, “God Bless America” may—between the lines—also convey the message that God loves us more than anyone else. That’s why I keep on a shelf in my office this bumper sticker, which says, “God Bless All Nations.” To remind me that God loves everyone—no matter what language they speak, no matter what skin color they have, no matter what politics they practice.

(Someday I may actually put it on my car, but probably not until retirement. I fanaticize about becoming one of those people who have bumper stickers plastered all over the place! Another one I might get—for grouchy drivers—is one of those smiley faces, beneath which is printed, “Have a nice day.”

Besides this sticker, something else I keep in my office is—among many things—this book on a lamp table. It’s entitled, The Illustrated Jesus through the Centuries, written by a longtime professor of theology at Yale Divinity School—Jaroslav Pelikan. It features a variety of images of Jesus—especially paintings—that express how he’s been regarded, interpreted through the ages. Every chapter has a distinct theme. In the first one, he’s known simply as “The Rabbi,” the Teacher. The titles of some other chapters include:

• The Kings of Kings.
• The Bridegroom of the Soul.
• The Prince of Peace.
• The Poet of the Spirit.

What’s special about the very last chapter—“The Man Who Belongs

to the World”—are images that span every one of the seven continents. Among them:

• A Chinese Jesus, standing in a boat with Chinese sailors in the middle of a storm—ordering the winds to cease and the waves to become calm.

• Jesus dressed in the black robe reminiscent of Jesuit missionaries and ascending upwards toward heaven, who interestingly has the facial features of a native of India.
• And an African Jesus hanging on the cross, while women—standing below—pray that God receives his spirit.

The very last image in the book is a photograph of the huge statue known as The Christ of the Andes—as in the mountain range by that name. This is what Jaroslav Pelikan writes about it:

[Standing] on the mountain border between Chile and Argentina, this massive figure in Rio de Janeiro represents Christ offering a benediction and at the same time extending an invitation, not only to the people of Brazil but to the whole human race to be reconciled to God and to itself, through the Man Who Belongs to the World.

May you and I always remember this. May we never think—not even for a moment—that he belongs only to us or mainly to us or to those who are like us. May we never believe—as the people in Nazareth did—that we are somehow more entitled to him than others are. May we instead always receive him with thankfulness, with a humility acknowledging we are undeserving of his love, of his grace, but that he willingly and joyfully still gives to us.

He is indeed our Savior and Lord, just as he is for all who call upon his name. He is the Man Who Belongs to the World. Amen.

 1. David Lose, “Three Questions and a Promise,” January 27, 2013, in http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=1772. 

2.  1 Kings 17:8-16.

3.  2 Kings 5:1-14.

4. Scott Hoezee, “Luke 4:21-30,” January 25, 2016, in https://cep.calvinseminary.edu/sermon-starters/epiphany-4c/?type=the_lectionary_gospel; and Janet Hunt, “Good News for the Outsider: How Might This Change Us? In http://words.dancingwiththeword.com/2016/01good-neews-for-outsider-how-might-this.htmal. 

5. Hoezee, “Luke 4:31-30; also see: D. Mark Davis, “A Rough and Tumble Reception,” January 28, 2019 in http://leftbehindandlovingit.blogspot.com/2013/01/a-rough-and-tumble-reception.html;  David Bratcher, “Fourth Sunday after Epiphany,” in The Voice (February 3, 2019), in http:///www.crivoice.org/lectionary/YearC/Cepiphany4nt.html; and Karoline Lewis, “Commentary on Luke 4:21-30,” in https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1571.  

6.  David Bratcher, “Fourth Sunday after Epiphany.”

7.  Ruth Anne Reese, “Commentary on Luke 4:21-30, in https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspz?commentary_id=2742; David Bratcher, “Fourth Sunday after Epiphany.”

8.  Jaroslav Pelikan, The Illustrated Jesus through the Centuries (New Haven, CT, and London: Yale University Press, 1997).

9. Pelikan, The Illustrated Jesus through the Centuries: 248.