Dangerous Preaching*
Dr. Jim Wilson, January 31, 2010 Preaching can be dangerous! It can be dangerous for both the preacher and the congregation. I caught glimpses of this growing up and as a active church member at the Marseilles UMC. Every once in while, the preacher would say something in the sermon that would cause a fuss. But it was in seminary that preaching as a potentially dangerous exercise became very real. In Dr. Merrill Abbey’s preaching class, we would discuss the sermons we were going to preach at our student appointments, and then on Tuesday, we would reflect on what happened. On one of these Tuesdays, Bob shared how saddened he was at the angry reaction his sermon evoked from his rural Indiana congregation. One member had even stormed out of the sanctuary before the singing of the final hymn. Attempting to be helpful, we jumped into a discussion of what Bob had done wrong. Did you overstate your arguments? Have you spent time developing relationships with the people? Did you get too partisan politically? Finally, Dr. Abbey interrupted and said, “Did it ever occur to any of you that what was wrong was not something Bob did? I am troubled by the assumption that many of you seem to be making that there is some way to talk about Jesus and not stir things up. Let me assure you, none of you are smarter than Jesus. Jesus got himself into trouble for preaching the Good News; so will you.” Yes, preaching can be dangerous. Now let me am clear. Preachers can stir up things in any number of ways---including just being antagonistic. The dangerous preaching I am focusing on is the kind that comes from a faithful sharing of God’s Word. Such is the experience in the synagogue in Nazareth the day Jesus preached. As Luke tells us, this was an occasion of dangerous preaching. This is a difficult text to understand. Within the space of just a few verses, we move from praise to outrage, from accolade to attempted murder. This swift reversal of fortunes is an enigma, and we want to know what happened. What could have prompted such a dramatic change? Why did his hometown congregation turn on Jesus, one of their own? But Luke gives us only the sparest of detail. We have a fragment of dialogue here, a sketch of an action there, and none of it very clear to the contemporary reader. Here is what we know. Jesus has been making quite a name for himself teaching and healing across the Galilean countryside. One place where his ministry had gone especially well was in the fishing village of Capernaum, located about 20 miles northeast of Nazareth. Word about his work and success spread wide and far, reaching back to his hometown. So, when he arrived in Nazareth and showed up at the synagogue on the Sabbath, the expectations were high. Evidently, Jesus did not disappoint the gathered community, at least in terms of his sermon. Luke tells us, “All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth.” But things are about to change! Someone asks, “Is this not Joseph’s son?” Some scholars think this means, “Who does this guy think he is? He’s Joe’s boy. We’ve known him all his life. He’s no one special. What’s the big deal?” But others suggest that the comment was actually positive, revealing local pride in this well-speaking young man; accepting him as something of a hometown hero. In effect they were saying, “Jesus is one of us. He is Joseph’s son. God has blessed us at last.” Such an interpretation would explain Jesus’ response, what one writer refers to as “prophetic resistance.” “Doubtless you will quote to me,” says Jesus, “the proverb, ‘Doctor, cure yourself.’” In other words, Jesus expects the Nazareth homefolks are thinking, “Jesus, you’re an amazing healer in those other towns, but how about do some healing right here in Nazareth, where you belong? You have healed others, now heal your own. Do here in your hometown the things we’ve heard you did over in Capernaum.” Here the real danger in Jesus’ sermon emerges. It is not that he claimed that the prophet Isaiah’s words were fulfilled in him. The congregation may have found Jesus’ claim, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” a bit much, but not that dangerous. Nor is it simply Jesus is being egotistical. Rather, the issue is that he is reluctant to do the works he did elsewhere, here among his own people. For Jesus, and certainly for Luke as well, God’s saving grace knows no boundaries. The story of salvation moves from Bethlehem to Rome, to the world, to the whole creation. The congregation, however, wants to get Jesus off the road, tie him down, and keep him home. For Jesus the Gospel starts locally and moves to the wider world. God’s grace keeps widening the circle, putting more and more leaves in the kingdom banquet table, reaching more and more people. But the folks at Nazareth want to invert that equation, want the Gospel to move not from the local to the ends of the earth, but from the ends of the earth to the local. “Enough of this ministry to all humanity, Jesus. Forget Capernaum; you’re a local boy, so bring it on home.” If Jesus would have complied with the congregation’s wishes, or if he would have just stopped right there, things probably been peaceful. But he didn’t. He offered two examples from Jewish Scriptures of the wideness of God’s grace, of how God’s love refuses to be restricted. The first happened during a severe famine and God sent his prophet Elijah, not to Israel, but to the widow of Zarephath in Sidon, a foreigner. And during the time of Elisha, when there were many lepers, only one was healed and that was Nathan the Syrian, one outside the covenant. This outraged the congregation and led to the attempted murder. Yet, Jesus’ response is, “If you read the Scriptures, you’ll see this is how God works. Grace is not a local event. Salvation is not a restricted happening.” That seems to be such a hard lesson for the faithful to learn. It is a hard lesson for us to learn. Jesus is for us. His grace is meant to heal us, comfort us, strengthen us, forgive us, and remind of God’s presence with us. But he is for others as well. To preach a restrictive Gospel, a parochial love, a message that Jesus loves us and those like us, and condemns everyone else, is simply a prostitution of the message. I find the message of some of the right wing preachers and TV evangelists along these lines simply heresy. For Pat Robertson to say that the Haitian earthquake is God’s punishment for the Haitian treaty with the devil in 1791 is at best ridiculous, and at worst heretical. Yet, to preach about God’s love for those we don’t love, those we regard as outside his concern can be dangerous. For Jesus to be savior of the world, means that he will challenge our hometown images of him and our desire to keep him in our club. In order for him to “bring good news to the poor,” he will need to confront the rich about our moral obligations. In order to heal the sick and restore sight to the blind, Jesus will need to leave the streets of the healthy and the well-insured and challenge us to care for the least of these. If Jesus is to forgive sinners, he must expose the self-righteous. To preach about this Jesus and his challenge to you and me can be dangerous. This is not Joel Osteen’s latest self-help program. It is the way of God’s gracious, liberating love. Either Jesus is the savior of the world or he is simply the leader of a private club. The preacher must decide. But equally important, so must each of us. Who is this Jesus for you and me? The Word of God Jesus shares and Jesus himself is, remains both a Word of hope and a Word of judgment, a Word that announces God’s mercy and grace, God’s healing and peace, God’s sustaining and providing even as it announces God’s accountability, God’s judgment on things as they are. To preach the Good News Jesus announces is to hold both of these dimensions in a creative and faithful tension. And that can be dangerous. We don’t always want to hear about accountability and judgment. It is my long-standing commitment to be faithful to the call to preach. I learned long ago that a preacher ought not to get political, in a partisan sense, in a sermon. That is not God’s Word. Now the sermon may have political implications---as it should---but that is the task of those who hear. For instance, racism is wrong, exploitation of the poor is wrong, oppression is wrong; deceit is wrong---etc., because these practices violate God’s Word. I once got in trouble for supporting open housing. Some thought I was being political. My concern was the underlying racism. Preaching can be dangerous. The Word itself is challenging. But it also liberating. Jesus reminded the folks in Nazareth, and through Luke’s story reminds us, such has always been the ways of God. Our God is the creator of heaven and earth, not some local deity enshrined in a grotto down the street. Our God’s saving power is bigger than any one town can hold; his mercy wider that any one village can imagine. The Bible is filled with stories of God’s gracious love reaching into surprising places to heal and bring new life. Jesus just won’t let us or anybody limit his concern or restrict his salvation. For us to tell about him and his love can be dangerous. We must decide does this gracious restriction-free love fill us with joy or rage! I hope it is joy. After all, there is always a bit of danger in being faithful. Thanks be to God! Amen! *The idea for this sermon came from Tom Long’s sermon, “God’s Saving Power.” |
