7 July 2024 Pentecost 7

2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10; Psalm 48; 2 Corinthians 12:2-10; Mark 6:1-13

Some of us probably know people for whom Australia is not their ‘country of origin’, who live lives ‘balanced’ between the culture of their ‘origin story’, and the country they currently live in.  And often, that can be done very easily, but sometimes, those ‘origin stories’ start to dictate ‘who’ the person is seen to be; or ‘what’ the person can think; or ‘who’ the person can be friends with; or which ‘ethnic groups’ the person can trust or distrust.  And at that point, their ‘origin story’ starts to oppress or suffocate them.

In our gospel today, Jesus returns to his hometown following a very successful ministry debut.  His reputation for wisdom and authority has spread far and wide, he has proclaimed God’s kingdom with very thought-provoking parables.  He has earned the trust of twelve disciples, and he has healed, exorcised demons, calmed storms, and even raised the dead.  To put it mildly – this hometown boy has ‘made good’.

And when he enters the synagogue of his boyhood and begins to teach, many of those there are astonished and amazed; - where did he get all this, such wisdom, such deeds of power done by his hands.  And then something happens.  Someone in the crowd ‘bursts the bubble’ and pulls out an old origin story and it spreads around the synagogue.  ‘he’s just the carpenters son, he is the son of Mary, his brothers and sisters are here with us’.  And the crowd turn against him.  Now, many commentators tell us that, at the time of Jesus, one’s status in the social system was fixed at birth, and it was not possible for someone like Jesus – a mere carpenter – to amount to anything.  In other words, he had no business rising above his simple beginnings, no cultural permission to outgrow his origin story; we know exactly where you come from, boy, don’t get too big for your britches, remember your place.

And because of the suspicion and resentment, Jesus’ ability to perform good deeds in the community was diminished.  In a mysterious and disturbing way, the small-mindedness and lack of trust by the people, and their inability to embrace a new facet of Jesus’ life and mission kept them in spiritual poverty.  Uninterested in glimpsing the extraordinary within the ordinary, they cannot imagine a newer and roomier story for Jesus.  And so, they missed the presence of God in their midst.

We all have ‘origin stories’, even if we are ‘born and bred’ here in Australia.  And this gospel story prompts me to wonder, do I use my origin story, or the story of others, to limit God’s ‘deeds of power’.  Do I keep myself, or others, ‘in their box’ rather than allowing myself, or them, to grow and change.  Where in my life do I ‘take offense’ at the new or unfamiliar, instead of leading with curiosity and delight.  Do I allow myself, and others, to become, or do I keep them restricted to the boring narratives that tell me I will always be small, weak, broken, insufficient, or disappointing; you will never outgrow your background, race, family, upbringing, wounds, addictions.

The disconcerting truth about this reading is we – we the Church – are the modern day equivalent of Jesus’ townspeople.  We think we know Jesus best.  We are the ones who take offence when Jesus turns up in faces we recognise and resent.  What will it take to follow him into new and uncomfortable territory.  Are we ready to see him where we least want to look.

The scandal of the Incarnation is that God is the hometown boy who made good.  He is the lowly carpenter.  He is the brother of, the son of, the friend of, the neighbour of.  We might be scandalised by his humble origins, but God is not.  We might put limits on the deeds of power done around us, but those limits will not confine God for long.  Our unbelief may amaze God, but God still calls out to us, daring us to see and experience God anew.  And maybe ‘remember who you are and where you come from’ is God’s best reminder to us.  We are God’s children and we come from God’s heart.  And that is an origin story we can never outgrow.

But our gospel does not end with just this ‘hometown’ story.  Mark complements it with the story of Jesus ‘sending out’ the disciples.  And his instructions to the disciples demonstrate the mutuality and interdependence of the disciples on those to whom, and with whom, they minister.  They are sent out in pairs, but they are to take nothing with them, they are to depend entirely on the hospitality of those they meet.  And when they are welcomed, they are to leave their blessing on those with whom they have stayed, but for those who refuse to welcome them, they are to shake even the dust of the town from their feet.  Not as a sign of cursing those who have not welcomed them, but more as a sign that they are ‘washing their hands’ of any responsibility for the other’s faith.

And this part of the story highlights for us that our actions matter, not because they can earn God’s favour, but because they are a response to God’s holy invitation.  God has chosen all of us at Baptism, and each day we have a choice between resisting God’s activity and partnering with God’s intent and action to bless and care for God’s world.  Our acts of kindness and compassion are holy; and our moments of unkindness or indifference are tragic.  What we do matters, and we can be assured that God equips and commissions us to be agents of grace.

Now, to be honest, it is not always easy to be those agents of grace, and to share it and to make a difference in the world.  But God invites all of us to a life of holiness rooted in everyday acts of kindness that are often so ‘ordinary’ that we overlook them yet they are so ‘extraordinary’ in the difference they make to those around us.  And God does more than just see our actions, God blesses them too.  God blesses us to be a blessing and God works through us to love, bless, and care for this world.