Preaching Paths 2 February 2025

Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary

Luke’s story of Jesus’ reception in his hometown synagogue in Nazareth (Luke 4:14-30) differs from the parallels in Matthew and Mark. There, the reaction of the townsfolk is negative from the start; in Luke, the initial reception is positive. In Mt 13:54-58 and Mk 6:1-6, we hear no reading from Isaiah, nor any account of Jesus’ sermon. We learn only that Jesus teaches so impressively that his listeners take offense; they want to take him down a notch. Raising a string of questions about his origins (“Isn’t his mother Mary?” [Mt 13:55; Mk 6:3] may allude to Mary’s awkward pregnancy), they imply he has no business teaching as he does. Jesus leaves; he cannot heal freely in Nazareth (Mt 13:58, Mk 6:5-6).

In Luke’s more detailed account, the crowd reacts positively at first, raising just one question: “Is not this Joseph’s son? “(v 22b). In fact, in Luke it seems to be Jesus who doubts the trustworthiness of the crowd, rather than vice versa. Jesus quotes two popular proverbs (v 23) to indicate he discerns in the crowd attitudes that will cause them to resist his ministry. And when Jesus cites two OT incidents in which God’s prophets are sent not to the aid of the widows and lepers of Israel, but to Gentiles, they do. The enraged crowd turns on Jesus, trying to kill him. Jesus eludes them and goes on his way.

As is often the case with biblical texts, alertness to cultural norms of the time can be clarifying. When the impressed and admiring synagogue crowd asks (with a raised eyebrow?), “Is not this Joseph’s son?” the answer, to them, is obvious: “Yes, this IS Joseph’s son.” And since that is so, and since obligation to one’s place of origin was second only to loyalty to family in that culture, social norms would dictate that Jesus must privilege the needs of Nazareth in his ministry. In effect, the townsfolk are saying: “Remember who you are, Jesus, son of Joseph the carpenter. You owe Nazareth at least the wonders you’ve performed in Capernaum. We brought you up; we know who you are.”

In fact, they do not know whose son Jesus is. Luke has told us, his readers: Jesus is God’s son (3:22). Thus, local, proprietary assumptions do not apply; God alone directs Jesus’ mission. Using a popular proverb (“You will say, ‘Doctor, cure yourself’” – i.e. “cure your own”), Jesus exposes the crowd’s presumptuous bid for favor. Then, citing the truism that no prophet is welcome in his hometown, Jesus gives them good reason to reject him: he reminds them how God sent both Elijah and Elisha to work wonders, not for Jews, but for a needy Lebanese widow and a leprous Syrian general. In Nazareth, too close for comfort to Gentile territory, these are fighting words. Were Jesus an elected official today, his constituents would run him out of office—but Jesus doesn’t need the hometown vote. Stung and enraged, the crowd seizes Jesus and tries (but fails) to throw him from a cliff.

In a gospel whose narratives are often so accessible, this thorny and troubling encounter challenges us. Yet, don’t we live in a time when politicians and religious leaders alike scramble to gain leverage to “control the narrative”? The levers of control include plausible (albeit not necessarily factual) claims, wealth, and behind-the-scenes manipulation of media platforms. Some imagine that their narrative-controlling manipulations are “God’s will.” Yet, Jesus reminds us that God’s world-shifting grace smashes our carefully drawn boundaries and includes precisely those whom our partisan visions and controlling narratives exclude. Jesus made clear that the Spirit has always advanced God’s renewal of all things with astounding, unstoppable, boundary-crossing freedom. For this, thanks be to God!