FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR C

January 30, 2022

St. Uriel’s, Sea Girt, N. J.

Luke 4:21-30

“But passing through the midst of them he went away.” 

Today’s Gospel continues where last week’s left off: in the middle of our Lord’s first return visit since the beginning of his public ministry to his hometown of Nazareth . Initially, everything seems to go well. Last Sunday’s Gospel recorded that on the Sabbath Jesus entered the synagogue and read from the Prophet Isaiah. Then, commenting on the text, he declared: “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” implicitly identifying himself with the Anointed One or Messiah whom Isaiah foretold.

Picking up at this point, today’s Gospel records the congregation’s response: “all spoke well of him and wondered at the gracious words which proceeded out of his mouth; and they said, ‘Is not this Joseph’s son?’” The text gives us no reason to suppose that this question indicates anything other than local pride in a hometown boy who’s done well. Nonetheless, by the end of this episode, these same townspeople have turned against Jesus, and are trying to kill him by throwing him off the edge of a cliff.

The disagreement emerges when Jesus identifies the thought in the minds of at least some of the congregation: “Physician, heal yourself; what we have heard you did at Capernaum, do here in your own country.” In other words: Why are you devoting so much time and attention to those outsiders? Attend to your own people, here in your own hometown.

Our Lord responds: “No prophet is accepted in his own country.” He expands on his point by citing the prophets Elijah and Elisha. There were many Jewish widows in Israel, but Elijah was sent only to a Gentile widow in the land of Sidon. There were many Jewish lepers in Israel, but Elisha cleansed only the Gentile leper Naaman the Syrian. In this way, Jesus implies that his mission likewise must reach out not only to the other cities and towns of Galilee, but also even beyond Israel to the nations. 

At these words, the people’s approval is transformed into outrage. Filled with wrath, the congregation rises up, takes him out of the city, and leads him to the brow of a hill with the intention of dashing him down on the rocks below. But, as Luke cryptically writes, “passing through the midst of them he went away.” 

Commentators down through the centuries have spilled much ink debating whether this “passing through the midst” constitutes some sort of miracle by which he disappears or makes himself invisible. Some argue yes; others no, that all the text indicates is that by the force and authority of his presence he faces down his would-be assassins and walks away. Either way, it’s a narrow escape: if not a miracle (miraculum) then at least a wonder (mirabile).

The contrast between the Nazareth congregation’s initial welcome and their subsequent rejection of Jesus anticipates the contrast in Jerusalem between the multitude’s initial chants of “Hosanna to the Son of David” on Palm Sunday, and their subsequent cries of “Crucify, crucify him!” on Good Friday. Beyond illustrating the fickleness of crowd psychology, this contrast highlights what I like to call “the mystery of rejection.”

This is a subcategory of what theologians call the mysterium iniquitatis, the mystery of iniquity. Namely, when faced with the choice between good and evil, why do some people freely and knowingly choose evil over good? Why, in the beginning, did Adam and Eve rebel against God? And why, even before that, did a portion of the angels make the same choice so that they fell from their heavenly glory and became demons? The majority answer among theologians is that it remains precisely a mystery, something fundamentally inexplicable. We all exercise our freedom in different ways and to different ends: some choosing good over evil, and others choosing evil over good.

So, what I’m calling the mystery of rejection narrows this question down to a specific type of situation. Two people hear the same preaching of the Gospel; one accepts it, and the other rejects it. Why? Or again: a lifelong faithful parishioner known to be personally devout and biblically literate suddenly turns his back on the Church and repudiates Christianity. Why? We may venture all kinds of explanations, ranging from some upsetting recent event in this person’s life, to the deep-rooted psychological dynamics of his personality. But the answer ultimately remains a mystery. 

Conversely, why does a long-standing professed atheist suddenly come to faith, embrace Christianity, and join the Church? Here we need to factor in divine grace, the movement of the Holy Spirit in that person’s life. But that only pushes the question back a step: Why does one person freely choose to cooperate with divine grace, while another resists it? Again, the answer remains a mystery: something fundamentally inexplicable even to the individuals involved, and fully and finally understood only by God himself.

A more productive line of inquiry is to look at our Lord’s response to such rejection. Notice what he does when the townspeople of Nazareth reject him and his message. He doesn’t try to argue them into acceptance. He doesn’t try to overawe them with some miraculous demonstration of his divine power. He doesn’t call down legions of angels to overwhelm his assailants when they try to lynch him. Instead, in Saint Luke’s cryptic phrase, passing through the midst of them he goes his way.

To dig one layer deeper: while he respects their freedom to accept or reject him, he also defies their efforts to control him. Initially, he refuses to accede to their demand to perform in Nazareth the same sorts of miracles he has performed in Capernaum. Then, when he asserts his freedom to go to whomever his Father sends him, they try to kill him: the ultimate form of control. But he will not be tamed; he will not be domesticated; he will not be stopped.

Despite their rejection, he continues on his way, and his way continues. He’ll find new disciples elsewhere, in the other cities and towns of Israel, and beyond, even to the ends of the earth. 

Here is reassurance for us whenever we may feel discouraged by those who reject Christ in our own day. Despite such rejection, his Church continues on its way, finding new adherents in untold new places. We really have no control over how others respond to Christ’s call. What we do have control over is how we respond. And we have this promise and assurance: that so long as we don’t reject him, he will never, ever reject us.