Sun Kwak, “Hometown Rejection”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H36tyDPBi7I

TEXT: Mark 6:1-6

[1] He went away from there and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. [2] And on the Sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astonished, saying, “Where did this man get these things? What is the wisdom given to him? How are such mighty works done by his hands? [3] Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon? And are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. [4] And Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not without honor, except in his hometown and among his relatives and in his own household.” [5] And he could do no mighty work there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and healed them. [6] And he marveled because of their unbelief.

And he went about among the villages teaching.

SERMON: “Hometown Rejection”

One of the questions I probably ask more often than not as an icebreaker question is — List your top five movies of all time. And part of it is because I’m always looking for good movies to watch. But the other part is that your choice in movies might provide insights into who you are and the things you enjoy. One of my top five is Good Will Hunting starring the late Robin Williams and Matt Damon, among others. There’s this scene that you can’t unsee in the film. It’s probably the most well-recalledand memorable moment in the entire movie. And it’s when Sean Maguire played by Robin Williams is having the most meaningful and life-changing moment with Will Hunting played by Matt Damon. And there are layers underneath this life-changing moment. As the movie begins, Will is introduced as this genius from South Boston. He’s not formally in school, he’s in and out of trouble, in a group home, and with a group of those he calls his brothers who don’t have the most promising future. But he works as a janitor at MIT, and he somehow does math better than not just the Ph.D candidates but the professors themselves. Nobel-prize winning mathematician Professor Gerald Lambeau notices his unrivaled potential and wants to unlock it. And on the surface, it seems he’s best suited to guiding Will toward success. He sees Will’s talents and abilities, and he wants to guide him toward a promising career. And he has the means. But he’s not the guy. And then, in comes Sean. He’s not a professor at MIT, he teaches at a community college. He’s not involved with math, he works with people. And so, he can’t necessarily provide Will a job or a career pathway. But he has something that that Professor Lambertdoesn’t. He has inroad to Will’s story. He, like Will, also came from the hardships of South Boston.

And so, back to this life-altering scene towards the end of the movie. Sean is looking at all the places Will has gone in and out of — foster homes, juvenile detention centers, courtroom arrangements, school systems, jobs. And his history is just littered with places that have essentially told him — We don’t want you here anymore. It’s time for you to leave. And so, as Sean observes, Will has never a proper parental figure, and he has a history of people pushing him away. And so, as a defense mechanism, Willhas trained himself to push others away before they can push him away. And so, in this riveting scene,instead of moving away, Sean draws near. And he hugs him, and he tells him — It’s not your fault. And Will initially tries to play it off — Yeah, I know. But then, Sean presses him harder — It’s not your fault. And Will’s starting to feel the proximity, that he’s being seen. And so, a little more awkwardly, he tells Sean — Yeah, I know. And Sean presses in even deeper — Son, it’s not your fault. And Will starts losing it, asking Sean — Wait, what are you doing? And Sean goes in for the final blow — Son, it’s not your fault. And Will realizes there what Sean has been trying to communicate. That he’s been mislabeled, that he’s been mischaracterized, that he’s been misunderstood his whole life. And with Sean pressing in on him, he feels the strange feeling of one drawing near to him instead of being pushed away.

And don’t we all need a Sean Maguire in our corner? Because who among us hasn’t been mislabeledand miscategorized and judged unfairly? And who among us doesn’t suffer from the effects of being falsely accused and stereotyped? Driving us to false central narratives about who we are and what we’re worth. And who among us hasn’t felt the pain of being pushed away and being told to leave. Because I’ll tell you, Sean Maguire is a fictional character. But Jesus is not. And if a sinful, imperfect, and fictitious man like Sean Maguire could change the life of a Will Hunting, what about Jesus who never sinned once but in real time and space stepped into our world, into our neighborhoods, into our history, into our criminal records. And he faced the false accusations, the verdict he didn’t deserve. And he was utterly emptied of worth on the cross, when committing to entering our brokenness and sinful history, in order to clothe us with his worth and the fullness of his righteousness. In order not to push us away but to draw us near. If anybody knows about rejection and being mislabeled and feeling deeply hurt and abandoned, it’s Jesus. And if you’ve come this morning wondering if anybody would see the history behind your hurt and shame, would see beyond the habits and practices and actions, would see beyond the screen you hide behind or the sins you revert to. Jesus sees you, and he understands. Because not only does he see the pain, he entered into it. So, let’s go meet him in his story of utter rejection today.

The town that’s mentioned today, the town that Jesus grew up in was a place called Nazareth. And if you recall something that Nathanael says when Philip tries to tell him about Jesus over toward the end of John 1, he wonders about Jesus, as he asks about his hometown — Can anything good come out of Nazareth? It’s a genuine question, because Nazareth was a place that was so small and so irrelevantthat nothing meaningful really came out of there. It seemed to be an underdeveloped place, and somewhere where nobody ever left town. It was about ten acres in size and was populated with around 200 people. And so, when Jesus leaves town, it’s a big deal. And here’s the thing. Jesus grew up with these people. And this means that they’d witnessed how he’d never missed Sabbath worship, of how he’d always been encouraging, of how he was always obedient. That whenever Mary had a problem with one of her children, they knew right away — Oh, it can’t be Jesus. They’d seen this — of how he never disappointed anyone and never sinned. And yet, they’re in unbelief when hearing some of the claims that Jesus is making. After seeing him and having known him his whole life, they can’t believe the things that he’s saying now. And this reaction of unbelief is what makes Jesus marvel and makes him say — Wow.

Here, Jesus is experiencing the fulfillment of the prophecy found back in Isaiah 53, that talks about the Suffering Servant, the Servant of the Lord, who would come to his people but be utterly rejected, even though it was he who created and made them. Where he came to his own, but his own rejected him. The people who knew him best and should have advocated for him — they rejected him and denied his claims. Eugene Peterson talks about how when he was a pastor of a small group of young adults in his early years, these were aspiring artists who were trying to make it in the city. But because they hadn’t quite arrived as artists yet, they had to pick up side jobs to survive. And so, some of them were waiters, some of them delivered pizza, some of them worked in retail, some were baristas. But unequivocally, whenever they were asked who they were, they wouldn’t say — waiter or pizza delivery man or retail worker or barista. Unequivocally and without flinching or hesitation, they would each identify themselves as artists. It was their identity, because long before they ever started delivering pizzas or making cappuccinos, they were creating art with a unique outlook upon the world. And as Peterson remarked, these young adults would never get offended if anyone questioned their line of work, what they did to bring in income. But if anyone had ever questioned their legitimacy as artists, that’s when they would get defensive and deeply hurt. And when Jesus is called one from Nazareth or even a carpenter, this isn’t his identity. It isn’t his durable core, as Tim Keller would say. Because long before he was a Nazarene or carpenter, he was and has always been the eternal Son of God. As the Nicene Creed reminds us — begotten, not made. And so, when this is questioned, it makes Jesus say — Wow.

And you think about how they’re responding to Jesus. Why is it that they’re so incensed? Why are people so infuriated by the claims of Christianity? I think it’s because the way we identify Jesus has everything to do with our own durable core, how we identify ourselves. And in our modern western individualism, we don’t want another to shape our identity. We want to be cultivators of our own identity. It reminds me of something my daughter Kalen told me when she was openly discussing Christianityand Jesus with one of her friends in one of her extracurricular classes. And this teacher sharply and irritably remarked to Kalen, even though Kalen wasn’t even addressing her specifically — Jesus, Christianity, God, these are all gray areas, subjective things. What makes a grown woman upset with a casual conversation between two nine year old children? What we believe about Jesus pokes at our identity. It’s why in existential philosophy, the foundational question is about origins and how one understands God. Not about how one perceives trees or oceans or even political leaders. It’s one’s questions and conclusions about God. Which is why Tim Keller says that Jesus is one who is universally offensive. Because what he says about himself has everything to do with what he says about us — our identity, our worth, our belonging.

And with all of this, William Lane, in his commentary, says that we, like these in Mark 6, are offended not just by the claims of Jesus but by the ordinariness of Jesus. In the Talmud, it was said that those who engaged in manual labor, such as a carpenter would, didn’t have time to learn the law. And thus, they weren’t to be trusted to teach the law. And so, when this carpenter starts not only to teach the lawbut to teach new meaning to the law, everyone is offended. Like — Who are YOU to teach US? That word for take offense over in verse 3 is literally to have been scandalized. And it’s the perfect word, because what Jesus did was enter into scandal. He’s come to offend the world’s sensibilities. Because Jesus entered into this scandal of the world by leaving a perfect home. And he left home in order to be rejected. And from the very beginning, here was a king who did not come into the world in the way that kings would have been expected to arrive. And we see this from the beginning of Mark’s Gospel — of how he didn’t come with red carpets rolled out. But he was, in fact, ushered into the wilderness. And even in the birth narratives of Jesus, which we observed during Advent and Christmas — he wasn’t born in a castle but rather in a stable. And who was it that came to visit Jesus first? It wasn’t the religious rulers but the outcasted shepherds. And how did they come? With nothing in their hands but their filth and their sin. And they offered these up in worship and praise.

And here’s something that I want put on us, not so gently. Because I think Mark arranges these stories in such a way to evoke some kind of shock factor. You look at what preceded this passage. Jesus has been shown as the Lord over all of creation in chapters 4 and 5 — over the storms, over demons, over diseases, over death. And in the narrative, it makes no sense that people wouldn’t believe him after all that he had done and shown about himself. But look at what’s said again in verse 6 — He marveled because of their unbelief. And that word for marvel is what crowds did when they observed Jesus’miracles performed in the Gospels. They would marvel, because, in the words of Jurgen Moltmann, what he did was suspend the laws of nature and he did the reverse of what was expected and of the way things were thought to be. But here, Jesus sees something so wrong that he marvels — as in, this is not the way it’s supposed to be. Because here’s the thing. If you reject Jesus as creator, if you reject him as powerful, if you reject him as healer, that’s one thing. But what Mark seems to be telling us. If you reject and insult Jesus’ entrance into scandal, his commitment to becoming ordinary, his commitment to being rejected, his commitment to losing a place in his Father’s favor. If you reject this, that’s a whole different thing. Because you look at the extent of their rejection. There’s that saying — adding insult to injury. They not only deny his claims as the Son of God, but they start hurling insults at him. Because something key for us to read here is not just that Jesus is referred to as a carpenter. But it’s that he’s called here Mary’s son.

And what does that mean? They’re referencing the assumption that he was born out of wedlock. If you remember the scandal towards the end of Matthew 1, Joseph had initially sought to leave Mary quietly, because she was with child before they were even married. And so, it’s a scandalous situation. And the referencing of this not only highlights the assumption that he was born out of wedlock. But the way that one was customarily identified was by being called some father’s son. Even those who were adoptedwere stated in reference to their father. And what this hometown crowd is saying about Jesus is that he had no identity, he was a nobody, essentially that he was fatherless. And I noted from the beginning of our time together this morning that if anybody knows about rejection and being mislabeled, it’s Jesus. That if you’ve come this morning if anybody would see the history behind your hurt and shame, would see beyond the habits and practices and actions, without making assumptions about who you are or who you’re not, it’s Jesus. Because here he was, one being called fatherless. And that’s what he would experience in the moment that would come to forever shape our identity, our durable core. When we read in verse 2 the questions of the crowd — How are such mighty works done by his hands? Is not this the carpenter? For little would they know that those hands would once again touch wood and nails. And it would be in order to rebuild what was destroyed. For there on the cross, the creator of this world would be unmade and experience de-creation when hanging there for our sins — stripped of his identity, in order to construct for us ours. It’s one thing to be rejected by your neighbors, it’s another to be rejected by your Father. And there, Jesus experienced the fatherless experience of an orphan in order that you and I may never have to live out our days as orphans without an identity.

It’s said that if you were a real prophet, you could only get killed in Jerusalem. This was a supposed showing of honor. And as you know, Jesus would die as a prophet in Jerusalem — but not in honor but in complete dishonor. Because you and I belong to our Father in heaven, not because we have established our stay with the works of our hands. But because of the nail-pierced and punctured handsof Jesus Christ. Because Jesus came from heaven to earth, leaving his home to dwell among us. And so, with boldness and with confidence, may we commit to the ordinary practices of the church — to the preaching, to the reading of God’s Word, to singing praise, to confessing sin, to hearing God’s grace. For we are an ordinary group of people, who are messy, who are in regular need of forgiveness. And in Jesus, we have one who didn’t stand afar and distant from us but drew near. And friends, he draws near today. So, you can draw near to him. As we regularly ponder those words — How are such mighty works done by his hands? Is not this the carpenter? May you and I never lose the wonder of the surprise found in Jesus’ story of his hands touching wood and nails.