Where’s The Nearest Cliff?

Let me start this with a question:

Who do you allow to tell you something that you don’t want to hear?

When my children are bickering about some factoid, inevitably they come to me or their dad (and sometimes to Alexa) and ask for a fact check. For example, my oldest two were arguing about whether Easter comes before St. Patrick’s Day this year. My middle child was convinced that there would be chocolate eggs and fancy church hats before there would be shamrocks and pinching people not wearing green in 2025. She was defiant against my oldest’s claim that Easter comes after St. Patrick’s Day. So, they came to me. When I told my middle child that she would have to wait a little longer for her pile of candy and story of Jesus overcoming death she was disappointed, but satisfied.  When I said it, she said, “Oh,” and walked away.

Another example: I have realized how much more apt I am to receive the words, “run faster” when they come from the coach at my Orangetheory gym than when they come from my husband on the treadmill next to me.

So, who do you allow to tell you something that you really don’t want to hear – especially when it’s something that is true, and something and that you probably need to hear? Who gets to tell you those things?

In our story today from the Gospel of Luke, Jesus has just begun his public ministry. He’s back in his hometown, he’s unrolled the scroll, quoted the Book of Isaiah, and declared, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”  And the people are impressed. They think, “Wow, he speaks so well and confidently. Isn’t that Joseph’s son?” This is going well… They are proud of this hometown kid.

But then, there’s a shift in the vibe in the room… It’s like they crowd who is excited then expects Jesus to do something. When I read this text, I sense that upon Jesus revealing who he is, the crowd then silently thinks, “Great! Prove it! Do something for us! Do something for your hometown folks!” Jesus then says, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, 'Doctor, cure yourself!' And you will say, 'Do here also in your hometown the things that we have heard you did at Capernaum.’” Jesus knows that his hometown neighbors are thinking, “You can’t just say that you are the fulfillment of the scriptures. We need some proof!” And here is where things really go south in this encounter. Jesus says, that no prophet is ever accepted in their hometown. Then he offers some interesting examples of how Elijah and Elisha performed miracles for those outside of the bounds of Israel.

Now, the hometown crowd doesn’t like this. First, this hometown kid claims that he is the fulfillment of the scriptures and offers no proof. Then, in defense of offering no proof, he tells stories about how prophets of God perform miracles for those outside of Israel. They are so angered by this that the grab him and bring him to the edge of a cliff with the intent to throw him off and kill him! Yikes, right?! How many of you often think about this Bible story, where Jesus’ hometown residents try to murder him!? It’s not one we tell very often.

What this story reveals is something that serves as a very important reminder and something that is also very timely. What Jesus conveys when he reveals himself in the Temple in this account is two things. First, that God is here and has come for everyone. Second, this doesn’t mean that God is going to do anything for you right now. Rather, God is going to show up and perform miracles and do God’s transformative work in the places and in the ways that align with the Story of God that is ever-unfolding in this world.

This is a difficult truth to hear. Let’s be honest. We want God to work for us. It’s why so much of Christianity around the world, and in America in particular, is so focused on the story of personal salvation. We keep the focus is on getting ourselves right with God so that we will be deemed worthy of the kingdom that is coming. And if we do that, the assumption is then that God will do things for us, whoever and wherever we are.   

Elijah and Elisha, the prophets that Jesus mentions in his illustrations, are the prophets in the Hebrew Bible who are the most Jesus-like in that they perform miracles. But it is in WHO they perform miracles for that this all gets a little dicey. Elijah and Elisha were clearly called by God to extend the work of God beyond the people of Israel, beyond those who understood themselves as having a special relationship with God. They demonstrated a radical hospitality to those who would have been considered outsiders at best. They used the power of God to help those who would have been assumed to be unimportant -those not of interest to God or God’s people.

That’s not what the people in the Temple listening to Jesus wanted to hear that day, and I will venture to say, it’s still not the truth that people want to hear today. Less than two weeks ago, the Bishop of Washington for the Episcopal Church, the Right Reverend Mariann Edgar Budde did something that one would not think would have been controversial. In a prayer service over which she was presiding in a pulpit under her jurisdiction, she asked President Trump to have mercy on people who are feeling scared right now – specifically LGBTQ individuals and their families and undocumented individuals and their families. She asked for mercy for the marginalized from the most powerful people in our nation. 

The backlash has been swift and fierce. She has been demonized, ridiculed, belittled and threatened. Within a week, those in the bishop’s inner circle indicated they are  “universally concerned” about her wellbeing after she received a flood of violent speech.

There is nothing about what Bishop Budde said that is not directly in line with the teachings of Jesus. She did not request a particular action be taken or a particular political position or worldview be held. She plead for the eyes of the most powerful people in the world to turn their gaze to the most vulnerable and show mercy. In her plea, was a clear statement that God cares about those people – the vulnerable human beings caught in the middle of divisive political topics. And self-reported Christians sitting in a Christian worship service were unwilling to hear that message, and they became enraged. Since then, some have wished her dead.

So I ask you. Who are you willing to hear the hard truths of Christianity from, particularly when those truths so often remind us that people of relative privilege are not at the center of God’s concern and work in this world? Who will you allow to say that to you? Jesus himself was nearly hurled off a cliff for saying this in his own hometown.

This makes me wonder… Do most of us as Christians really want to be transformed by the Gospel? Do we want to Gospel to enter our hearts in the ways that make us realize, it’s usually not about us, it is about what we should be doing for others? Or do we want the Gospel to stay outside of our hearts, close by in ways that we can point to it as affirmation that we are “good people,” but not in the ways that transform us. Because I think that what the Gospel calls us to do, is to care less about whether we are “good people” in the eyes of others, and rather to care more about whether ,in the eyes of God, we are agents of Good News to the least of these.  

The scary part is, if the Gospel is inside of your heart and your gaze turned toward the least of these, you can’t help but become critical of the powers and systems that create wealth disparities, education disparities, health disparities, refugees and asylum seekers, and those who have been made poor, unhoused and rendered invisible. If the Gospel is inside of your heart, you can’t help but become critical of systems, even if those systems are serving you well personally. And the moment you apply a critical eye to those powers and systems, the moment you remind anyone that the Gospel does not revolve around them, someone is going to want to throw you off of a cliff!

I have no doubt that each of you reading this is a good person. There is good and bad in all of us and, with rare exception, far more good than bad. But do we allow ourselves to hear the uncomfortable words of Jesus as much as the ones that tell us we are loved and we will be saved?

Who do we allow to tell us something that we don’t want to hear? My charge to all of us is that we listen for the call of Christ – the divine summons that, more often than not, makes us uncomfortable. That call which may come from unexpected places, and may be something we don’t want to hear. My additional charge is that we become communicators of those uncomfortable parts of the Good News - the parts that challenge systems that may be serving us and our friends just fine, but that are leaving others out.  

May we be the mouthpiece of Christ’s Good News, not only of resurrection, but of the Love can overcome any injustice that pins others down. Share that news. Share the reminder of who God sees and cares about, and share it with the bravery of knowing that some may want to throw you off of a cliff for saying it! Once you have allowed the Gospel in to transform you, share it abundantly. Bring good news of liberation to the widow, the poor, the immigrant and the outcast.

And all of God’s people who could said, Amen.