Luke 4:21-30

Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” All spoke well of him and were amazed at the gracious words that came from his mouth. They said, “Is not this Joseph’s son?” He said to them, “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.’” And he said, “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown. But the truth is, there were many widows in Israel in the time of Elijah, when the heaven was shut up three years and six months, and there was a severe famine over all the land; yet Elijah was sent to none of them except to a widow at Zarephath in Sidon. There were also many lepers in Israel in the time of the prophet Elisha, and none of them was cleansed except Naaman the Syrian.” When they heard this, all in the synagogue were filled with rage. They got up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town was built, so that they might hurl him off the cliff. But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way.

Have you ever heard of something called “Powdered Butt Syndrome?” I know some of you have because you’ve been part of Dave Ramsey’s “Financial Peace University” class, which is where I first heard about it.

According to Dave Ramsey “Powdered Butt Syndrome” is an affliction that prevents someone – a parent or grandparent, especially – from accepting advice or learning a new thing from someone who’s butt they’ve once powdered, such as a child or grandchild.

Dave Ramsey refers to “Powdered Butt Syndrome” when he warns people against being too bold in suggesting their elders make changes to their financial plans, specifically where things like nursing home or extended care facility insurance are concerned. Presumably, parents and grandparents don’t want to be told – by the children or grandchildren who’s diapers they’ve changed and whose butts they’ve powdered – about what to do with their money, no matter how correct they might be or how good that advice is.

Well, I’m not sure Powdered Butt Syndrome (PBS) is limited to parents and their children, or grandparents and their grandchildren. And I’m not sure that it’s only about financial advice or nursing home insurance, either. It’s hard for most of us to take advice or to learn from others, sometimes, who we are supposed to know more or better than, isn’t it?

So I couldn’t help but wonder if Powdered Butt Syndrome didn’t have a little bit to do with what was going on with Jesus in this morning’s Gospel story.

“Isn’t this Joseph’s son?”, the townspeople ask that day in the synagogue. Maybe his old babysitter was in the crowd. Maybe an old neighbor was there or Joseph’s old carpentry mentor. Maybe that older boy who picked on Jesus when they were kids was in the room. “Isn’t this Joseph’s son?” “The carpenter’s kid?”

And at first they’re impressed. Amazed – all of them – by the gracious words Jesus has spoken: “good news for the poor, release for the captive, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, the year of the Lord’s favor,” remember? All good stuff. All holy things. Surprising, inspiring words coming from the local boy, made good, if all the reports about what he’d been up to were true.

But then he gets a little big for his britches, that carpenter’s kid. Then he gets a little rich for his robe or cocky for his cassock or too tall for his tunic, however it was back in First Century Palestine. Because he kicks it all up a notch, doesn’t he?

Jesus tells his hometown friends, family and neighbors that, while they may want to see and hear some of the great things he’d been up to in the other places he’d been, that that’s not what he came home to do. See, that’s what that talk about Elijah and Elisha is all about.

In the days of Elijah, there were plenty of widows the great prophet woulda, coulda, shoulda helped – right there in the homeland; from among his own kind – but instead, Jesus reminds them, Elijah was sent out to some widow from Zarapheth in Sidon. And the same thing happened with Elisha, another great prophet. There were plenty of lepers who could have used some healing from among the chosen ones of Israel. But for some reason, Elisha was sent to cleanse a leper named Naaman, out in the foreign territory of Syria.

So not only was Jesus – the hometown son of a carpenter – putting himself in league with the likes of some of the greatest prophets in all of Israel’s history, he was also neglecting, if not refusing, to share with his own people the kind of grace and good fortune they were hoping he’d been saving up, just for them. And on top of that, he had already and apparently planned, again, to share that kind of grace and good fortune with other people, in other places; with the outcast and the enemy, even – just like those prophets before him had done.

So, it seems like the symptoms of Powdered Butt Syndrome are intensified the harder the teaching and the more bitter the pill is for the sufferer to swallow.

In Jesus’ case – that day in the synagogue of his own hometown – there was an outbreak of Powdered Butt Syndrome that almost got him killed. All those people, once so enamored by his gracious, inspiring words, suddenly ran him out of town and nearly off the side of a cliff, once he started telling them things they didn’t want to hear – no matter how true it was.

And I can’t help but wonder what the symptoms of Powdered Butt Syndrome look like for you and me. What kind of news is hard for us to swallow? What kind of grace is difficult to share? What kind of good news is so good, so generous, so much like the Kingdom of God we sing and pray and worship around in church on Sunday morning, but don’t have the faith or courage or willingness to share out there in the world as we know it?

What kind of Gospel is so much Gospel… so much Truth… so much grace… requires so much humility and sacrifice and change of perspective on our part… that we would sooner shoot the messenger – or hurl him off a cliff – or hang him on a cross, as it were – than follow in his footsteps, than live like he lived, than do what he asks us to do?

I believe it happens whenever we feel like we’re not getting our due… not getting what belongs to us… not getting what we deserve. I believe it happens too, when we feel like someone else might be getting something they don’t deserve; that doesn’t belong to them; something they may not have earned.

Whenever someone questions the work we do in Haiti – suggesting that there are plenty of hurting, hungry, homeless people right here in our backyard – I think about how Elijah left home and went to that widow in Zarapheth in Sidon.

Whenever I hear pride and nationalism and selfishness and fear disguised as patriotism, connected with the suggestion that “we” or “our own” are more important or more deserving or more of a priority than others – I’m reminded about how Elisha cared for Naaman, the Syrian – and about how God doesn’t play the same kind of politics we are tempted toward.

And the reason I’m as emboldened as I am nervous about saying some of this to some of you, is because I don’t know any other way to understand this Scripture, or these words from Jesus, or these examples of our ancestors in the faith.

But I’m emboldened, too, because there is good, gospel news, here. And that is that we don’t have to pick and choose. I don’t believe any of this is so black and white or cut and dried or all or nothing. I’m under the impression that there is enough of God’s grace and love and mercy and promise to go around. I’m under the impression that there are enough resources and opportunities to prove it, too, and that we are called to find out how to share them.

I think the world operates, too much of the time – like the hometown crowd in Nazareth that day – from a perspective of scarcity and mis-guided priorities. Like if Jesus – or Elijah or Elisha, for that matter – were to share God’s blessings and resources elsewhere that there wouldn’t be enough for them to enjoy.

But we worship a God of abundant faith, hope, and love, do we not?

We worship a God of love that is patient and kind; not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude – and who asks us to do and to be the same. We worship a God of love who does not insist on its own way, is not irritable or resentful, but rejoices in the truth – and who asks us to do the same. We worship a God of loving abundance who bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things – and who invites us to love one another – and our enemies – the same way.

The love of our God never ends, we are told, and under the banner of that God, there was and is and there will be enough to go around. And we are always being invited to get on board with that kind of vision for the world. If we choose not to – like the people in Nazareth, way back when – I’m convinced the power of God will pass through the midst of us and go on its way.

But if we humble ourselves, if we sacrifice our pride, if we change our ways, if we open our hearts, if we love the enemy and the outsider and the other, we might just see and celebrate the fulfillment of God’s promises right where we live – today, this Scripture will be fulfilled in our hearing: the captive will be released, the blind will see, the oppressed will go free, and the favor of the Lord’s love and justice and peace and power will be poured out for whoever dares to share and to receive it.

Amen

John 2:1-11

On the third day, there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples were also invited. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” She said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”

Now, standing there were six stone water jars for the rites of Jewish purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. Jesus said to the servants, “fill them up with water.” So they filled them up to the brim. Then he told them to draw some out and take it to the chief steward, so they took it. When the chief steward tasted the water that had become wine and did not know where it had come from (though the servants who drew the water knew), he called the bridegroom and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first and the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have saved the good wine until now.”

Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

I had a conversation a week or so ago with one of my boys about the concept of “luck.” I don’t remember the details, but I think it had something to do with a half-court buzzer beater at some basketball game that went in, earned someone three points, and won the game. “Lucky,” right? Of course “luck” may have been involved, but I assured them it also very likely involved some preparation and practice, too.

One of my favorite sayings – for which I give Oprah credit, though she may have learned it from somewhere else – is the notion that there’s really no such thing as “luck.” Instead, she suggests that “luck” is nothing more and nothing less than the moment when preparation meets opportunity. “Luck is nothing more and nothing less than the moment when preparation meets opportunity.”

It may not apply, so much, to a winning lottery ticket – or if I were the one who made a half-court buzzer beater on the basketball court. That would be nothing more than dumb luck, for sure. But it does make sense when it comes to a half-court buzzer beater by Jordan Reid, say, or Steph Curry, or any time when good fortune finds someone who’s been preparing for, practicing on, working toward such blessing, abundance, or victory – like passing the test; or getting the job; or winning the game. What looks like “luck” to outsiders a lot of the time really involves a whole lot of practice, preparation and just the right opportunity coming together.

And I wonder if the same might be true where miracles are concerned. Don’t get me wrong, miracles are miracles are miracles. I don’t mean to discount them or suck the mystery and magic and power they carry from our faith’s story. I think they are evidence of grace when they happen and by the power of God, for sure, in ways I don’t always try to explain or rationalize or justify. And there are miracles worth praying for in these days for many of us gathered here…just look at our prayer list for evidence of that.

But what if “miracles” are more like “luck” a lot of the time, too. What if what we want to call – or need to be – “miracles” in our lives also involve some preparation, some practice and some opportunity coming together at just the right moment?

I read a reflection on this passage from John’s Gospel last week, written by a pastor in Kansas, named Joanna Harader, who suggests that miracles can be hard work. She considers this miracle – of Jesus turning water into wine – from the perspective of the stewards in the story, who Jesus enlists to help him make it happen.

The short of the long is that these stewards had to fill six hefty, heavy, stone water jars, each with 20-30 gallons. Imagine the weight of those jars before they were full, let alone after they were filled to the brim with all of that water. And remember that there wasn’t a tap or a hose or a pump, and who knows how far they were from the nearest well or what kinds of buckets they had at their disposal.

(I found myself wondering about the kids and sisters who care for us in Haiti who, each morning before they do almost anything else, have to hoof it up or down the mountainside for long distances with containers as large as 5 gallon buckets and as small as an old, re-purposed Canola oil bottle to collect water for their day. Suddenly, 20-30 gallons of water – times six – seems like no small “miracle” in and of itself, and no small favor to ask of the stewards at the wedding.)

So again, the point is that, as miraculous as Jesus’ water-to-wine event was, it wasn’t all magic; it wasn’t easy; and he didn’t do it alone. There was no small amount of preparation involved, coupled with the opportunity of God’s power and God’s people being willing and able and in the right place at the right time.

And I wonder if you and I are preparing ourselves for the opportunity to see and share in, to instigate, to accomplish, even, the miracles we long for in the world these days.

If we want there to be safety and warmth and shelter for those who are without it this winter, have we done something to prepare for that – or are we just waiting for a miracle?

If we want hungry people to have something to eat, have we so much as made a sandwich, passed out a gift card, volunteered at the soup kitchen – or are we just hoping their luck will change?

If we want the politics in our country to change did we vote? Have we contacted our representatives? Are we praying, by name, for our leaders?

If we want there to be peace on earth (a miracle to be sure), what are we doing – what have we done – to let it begin with us? Or are we just waiting, praying and hoping for a miracle to do the trick?

I guess what I’m saying is, maybe you and I are called to be like the stewards at that wedding in Cana – the ones called to get things ready, if you will, and to let someone else have their miracle. Maybe it’s time we start fetching the water; readying the jars; following Jesus’ orders; creating the opportunity for God to do God’s thing.

You and I – and wow, the whole lot of us together – could just be the miracle someone’s waiting for; we could just be the lucky day someone’s been praying about.

Yes, miracles can be hard work. But look at the joy that follows. Imagine the party that flowed from the abundance Jesus created that day in Cana. Imagine the fun those servants had drawing out that new wine, re-filling those empty glasses, jump-starting that celebration, when everyone thought it had ended too soon.

And what a miracle it will be, when all God hopes and everything Jesus died for, comes to pass – thanks to the faithful work and heavy lifting of you and me; God’s church, the baptized children of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, at work – making miracles – in and for the sake of the world.

Amen

Prophets and Powdered-Butt Syndrome

"Luck" and "Miracles"