A brief sermon for an outdoor service at the Church of the Epiphany, Euclid, Ohio

I’m always amused, and slightly bemused, by the way in which the evangelists describe Jesus’ visit to his hometown. “He could do no deed of power there,” they say, “ –  oh, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them.”

It makes you wonder what their expectations were. Laying hands on the sick and healing them sounds pretty powerful to me. No doubt, for the people healed, for their friends and families, it was life-changing. But to the gospel writer, apparently, no big deal.

It makes me wonder about the expectations we have for God, for the presence of Christ among us, for the actions of the Holy Spirit in our lives. 

In Nazareth, Jesus encountered a few different reactions to his home visit. There were those who were just astonished and in wonderment at his teaching, his wisdom, his deeds of power. There were those who were offended that someone who should be just like them seemed different, spoke differently, acted strangely, never mind that it was all good, it was not right in their eyes. And then there were the few who humbled themselves to ask him for healing, who accepted him for who he was, without worrying about who he had been, or who he might become. And they were the ones whose lives were changed in that moment, in that encounter, on that visit. 

We’ve all been each of them, at one time or another, haven’t we? 

The times when we are caught up by the glory, the wonder, the sheer magnitude of God, of God reflected in creation, in the stars or in a sunset; God reflected in the experience of falling in love, of realizing the depths and breadth of being that love opens up to us; of God whispering to us in the night, wisdom that cuts through the noise of the world – we’ve known wonder, haven’t we?

Then there are the times when we wonder what God is doing, and why God is not acting according to our image, why God doesn’t do what we would do to this person, or in this situation; when we question whether God is really everything that God is cracked up to be; when we are offended by God’s mercy, or restraint, or ineffability. Never mind that God is good; we want God to be more like us.

And then there are those blessed moments when our eyes are opened, not dazzled by glory nor dimmed by cynicism, but open and honest, when in all humility we are able to come before God trusting in our Creator’s mercy, and Christ’s grace, and the power of the Holy Spirit to help and to heal us. It was those who trusted Jesus, who trusted in Jesus, who found him ready and powerful to save them.

And then he sent his disciples out to do the same, to offer his grace and his mercy and his healing power to anyone who might need it, to any suffering from sickness of body or spirit or soul, from the torment of disease or demons. It is not necessarily a life free from pain. Paul writes of the thorn in his flesh, the discomfort of being human, of remaining grounded in this frail and friable body. It is a life worth living, knowing the living God, knowing the love of God made manifest in Jesus. And still, Christ sends us to share what we have known, what we have found when we have been truly open to the grace of God.

We have all been there: dazzled by glory and disappointed in God; but it is when we can be humble in seeking out God, and open to God’s reality, Christ’s presence within us and beside us, that we find the grace we need. And that is powerful beyond words.

Amen.