Sermon for August 8, 2021 - The Eleventh Sunday After Pentecost, Year B, The Ven. Pat Zifcak

In the Gospel this morning we hear, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know?  How can he now say, “I have come down from Heaven?”  This should sound familiar.  We hear a story of Jesus teaching in the synagogue in Mark and Luke.  It is Mark 6 that has me thinking this morning.  On the sabbath, Jesus began teaching in the synagogue.  The crowds were astounded and they began to question, “Where did this man get all this?  What deeds of power are being done by his hands?”  Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and are not these his siblings here with us?  Jesus said, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.”  “ And he could do no deed of power there.”  At the end of the same story in Luke, Jesus asserts that “ no prophet is accepted in his hometown.”  His power and authority accepted with amazement in Capernaum were  not possible in Nazareth.  I cannot think of another story in which Jesus has no power or authority.  We remember moments certainly when he refuses to use his power and authority but I am not sure there is another like this Gospel story.  One writer wondered about the relationship of Jesus’ inability to perform deeds of power and the questioning of his authority and power by those who knew him.  I think that is an important question.  What are the family and hometown stories that have made you powerless, that have taken away or undermined your authority, or kept you from using the God given gifts you have for the good of the world? Is your advanced degree honored in your family?  Are your athletic achievements praised?  Is your volunteer work a point of pride?

We have heard a few family and hometown stories from Isaac and Elise, from Jeff and me- not stories told for the same reason but stories that have helped us to understand one another more deeply.  In my family, when relatives got together, there was lots of storytelling, lots of music and my sisters, cousins and I sang all the old Irish songs that our parents loved.  We never hesitated, wondering whether we could sing or dance for that matter.  We loved the closeness we felt to each other and that was enough.  Until one afternoon while I was traveling with my aunt and my cousin.  We were singing to the radio and my aunt suddenly said, “stop singing, Pat, I want to hear Bud.”  It never mattered whether she meant what I heard, my confidence was gone.  Do you have a story like that?  

As a teacher I became very good at identifying the children who had power and authority over their classmates.  Helping children to be kind, to be accepting, to listen to each other became a significant part of my teaching.  Younger than you might imagine, children absorb what others say about them and the ways adults respond to them and turn praise into power and authority.  Helping children learn to use those gifts for good is the mark of teaching that will change the community and the world. 

Remember the reading from Ephesians?  Be imitators of God.  What is of God builds up.  Our words, once spoken, cannot be retrieved.  Speak as to give grace to those who hear.  Be kind to one another.  Forgive one another, walk in love with one another.   Why?  Because Jesus, the good teacher, has given us the example of love that can change everything.  

And where is there a better place to practice kindness, to walk in love with one another, to speak the truth with grace, to honor each other’s gifts, to teach our children about community, and to hear the story of our faith than here.  And not just here but gathered around the altar- a space that puts our faith first, that brings God in Christ into the midst of us, that provides bread enough for each and for the life of the world.  In receiving, we are saying “yes” to a promise that no one shall go hungry while we are fed.  That is the promise of the feeding stories we have heard in the Gospel for several weeks.  When five loaves and two fish are all there is, they are enough and more.  

We, as Episcopalians, embrace an incarnational theology.  It is the reason that making decisions about celebrating the Eucharist during the pandemic has been such a difficult one.  It is the reason our bishops have refrained from receiving, and the reason so many of our congregations have strived to create safe ways to gather to receive. We know God, through Jesus, and we know Jesus through each other.  When we stand together to receive the bread, we are looking into the faces of those at the table with us.  We participate in a belief that is unique to each of us and, at the same time, corporate.  Those who challenged Jesus in the synagogue did not believe that the carpenter, the son of Mary, their hometown boy could possibly have the power and authority he claimed.  As we know, it is easy to dismiss something that doesn’t meet the expectations we hold for it.  We affirm our faith in the words of the Nicene Creed and we come to the altar to receive the bread of eternal life.  Do we believe what we say and are we changed by what we do?  We come by faith and we suspend our doubts.  And that is enough for today.  We believe, Lord.  Help our unbelief.