31 January 2010
Carolyn L Roberts
Luke 4.21-30
                                               
            When we were growing up, mother frequently made pie for dessert. Apple, cherry, lemon meringue, pumpkin–she made them all. And we relished every bite. Except for my brother Jim. Jim didn’t like pie. Oh, he’d had a taste once–so we assumed. But he just didn’t like it. Dad always said that was fine–it left all the more for us, which was true. So we’d enjoy dessert without him. And Jim missed out on the blessing of mother’s homemade pies. Till one day he decided he’d try a little bite of apple pie. I don’t know what possessed him, but there we are. After that, mom made even more pies–because Jim would volunteer to peel the apples. Or pit the cherries. Or grate the lemon zest. And truth be told, we were glad to have him join us even though it meant a bit less for us. But no matter how many pies he helped mom make, Jim could never make up for all the pies he missed. Missed blessings are like that. And they are as much a part of our story as being blessed.

            On a very different front, I have paid attention to the primary dynamics in the holy land ever since my seminary days, when I had to opportunity to serve on the UCC’s old Board for World Ministries. I was assigned to the Middle East committee, where we were guided by the exceptional staff support of Dale Bishop, who has been succeeded by the equally exceptional Peter Makari. Now with the opportunity to spend last year’s study leave in Jerusalem–on both sides of that obscene wall–and with a chance to visit Ramallah, Jericho, Capernaum, the Sea of Galilee, and the Dead Sea, I have a mental picture of that complex and haunting land we call holy. It was a grace-filled visit; John and I met a number of beautiful people in both Israel and Palestine. Even without travel in the Holy Land, though, many of us have borne witness to the vibrant cosmopolitan contemporary nation of Lebanon,  peace accords between Israel and Egypt, and the Oslo Peace Accords between Palestine and Israel signed at the end of the Clinton administration. So many possibilities.

            Listen again to the beginning of today’s scripture: And Jesus rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in hour hearing.” All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” If only our reading ended there. If only the peace accords between Egypt and Israel, and Palestine and Israel had been the “and they lived happily ever after” part of the story. If only Lebanon had not degenerated into uncivil war. If only the peoples of those historic nations had not missed the blessings that appeared theirs for the taking.

            If only Joseph’s son had stuck just to reading the scriptures; if only he had spoken to their fulfillment as a present reality, but not gone on to interpret that reality in light of the prophets. He would have been blessed by those in the synagogue. He would have been regarded highly in his home town. But Jesus doesn’t stop. He goes on to speak of the prophets’ ministry to those outside Israel, indirectly reminding his hearers of Israel’s call to be a light to the nations. Jesus doesn’t just remind his hearers of Israel’s call, he does so in a provocative, in-your-face way...which hardly matches our haloed picture of him.

            That does it. The members of the synagogue in Nazareth aren’t just annoyed; they’re filled with rage. It’s all over. Any blessings they may have hoped to receive from their peripatetic native son are forgotten. They drive him out of town and are ready to hurl him from a cliff.

            But what has happened here? After reading from the prophet Isaiah of his own call to bring good news to the poor, release to captives, freedom to the oppressed, and recovery of sight to the blind, Jesus has unceremoniously reminded the people of his home congregation of their own purpose, their own mission. And while it may seem as though their rage is focused on Jesus, it may be that the true source of their conflict lies within their own community.

            In a thoughtful piece titled “The Need for Stress and Conflict,” Jeffrey Jones writes about the role conflict plays when a group is facing adaptive change–the kind of change we all make when our circumstances change. When circumstances change, conflict is almost always present. But in many organizations, conflicts are avoided at all costs.[1] Certainly in the small-town setting of Nazarean synagogue, this would have been likely. Issues of how to deal with the Roman occupation. Questions about the often-burdensome taxes of the temple in Jerusalem. Appeals to follow the Pharisees or the Sadducees or the Essenes, or the multiple guerrilla bands that hid in the caves and harassed the Romans were more than enough to create tension within a community as to its own mission and values.

            So when Jesus reminds the synagogue that Elisha and Elijah ministered to the widow and the foreigner, even when there were those with similar needs in Israel, he brings to the surface the conflict of values that is present already.[1] I think that’s the reason he can pass  through the midst of the enraged  crowd: their conflict isn’t really with him–it’s among themselves, and the different values held by different groups. The irony is that it is within that same conflicted community that the answers for moving forward will come.[1]

            My brother and his pie, Northern Ireland, the Middle East, even conflicts within our own varied institutional settings...each person, each setting...missed the blessings that were at hand until the internal issues were addressed head on. They aren’t unique–missed blessings are a part of our personal story and our faith story–until we deal with the issues underlying a conflict. Then we begin to know the blessings of resolution.

***

[1]Jones, Jeffrey D., “The Need for Stress and Conflict,” The Alban Weekly, Number 287,  January 25, 2010, Adapted from Heart, Mind, and Strength: Theory and Practice for Congregational Leadership, by Jeffrey D. Jones, © 2009 by the Alban Institute, as found on http://www.alban.org/conversation.aspx?id=8891.