[Jesus] left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 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. Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. And he was amazed at their unbelief.

Then he went about among the villages teaching. He called the twelve and began to send them out two by two, and gave them authority over the unclean spirits. He ordered them to take nothing for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics. He said to them, “Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the place. If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.” So they went out and proclaimed that all should repent. They cast out many demons, and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured them.

Mark 6:1-13

Pastor Marc's sermon on the 6th Sunday after Pentecost (July 5, 2015) on Mark 6:1-13. Listen to the recording here or read my manuscript below. 

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A few summers ago, Kate and I were leaving our old church in Astoria, Queens, heading north on 37th street, when we ran into a street fair along 30th avenue. Now, running into a street fair in New York City during the summer isn’t a strange thing. They’re kind of all over the place. It’s where we picked up $20 dollar bed sheets, cheap aviator sunglasses, and more street meat and fried dough then is probably safe to consume. But this street fair was a little different because one of the vendors wasn’t normal. Right in the center, around 34th street, a stand was set up by the Discovery channel. People, as they walked by, were being asked to stop, take a extra long cotton swab, and scrape the inside of their cheeks. Discovery was putting on a tv show trying to find out where all the people from a street fair, in the most diverse place in the country, actually came from. By taking cotton swabs of our cheek, little organic cells could be safely taken and analyzed. And by looking at our DNA, and comparing our basic building blocks with the basic building blocks of other people from all over the world, we could find out where our ancestors, from thousands of years ago, came from. We could find out our old, old, old, old, old, old, old - hometowns.

Today, our gospel story from Mark has an odd story about hometowns. Jesus is continuing his ministry of healing the sick, casting out demons, and preaching a vision of God’s kingdom that people are having a hard time getting. So after hanging around the Sea of Galilee and speaking up in synagogues scattered throughout the area, Jesus heads back to his hometown. He’s back to where his parents are, where his sisters and brothers live, and where there are people who knew him when he was just “this high.” Jesus is back in the place where he grew up - and it doesn’t go well. Jesus’s preaching isn’t received. His new job as a wandering preacher, traveling from place to place teaching and healing, doesn’t match up with people’s expectations of what an eldest son should do. It’s like they just had a big family gathering, maybe kinda like the one some of us had yesterday, and as the conversation got to jobs and relationships - maybe there’s someone in the family who’s not really following the career path or the direction that everyone thinks they should. That tension - that conversation - is exactly what Jesus experiences here. Jesus isn’t fulfilling his expectations. There’s nothing in his past to make people think that Jesus is suppose to be the powerful religious teacher that he is. He’s the son of a carpenter and with a mother, brothers, and sisters who need him to get back to his “real job” to take care of his family. Jesus’s hometown can’t see Jesus as anything more than what they expected him to be.

So what are our expectations of who we’re supposed to be? 

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Now, going back to that DNA swab, it took about six weeks to receive the results of the analysis. And even though I knew it was going to take that long, every time I opened the mailbox, I was hoping the results would be there. I kinda knew what I’d find, since, well, being brown and hispanic means that more than one of my ancestors crossed the Bering Sea a few tens of thousands years ago. But what I was looking forward to was what I didn’t know. Was I connected to some people living central Asia? Do I have a great-great-great-great-great grandmother who use to hang out on some small island near Japan? When it comes to all that makes me, me - including the people and places I and my ancestors come from - just how connected to others am I? 

Jesus seems to play with this idea of connection too. When he’s rejected by his hometown, pushed away by their expectations of who he’s suppose to be rather than who he actually is - what does Jesus do? He goes out. He heads into the small villages to do what he does. He gathers his closest disciples and friends, folks who are, like him - the unexpected -  tax collectors, fishermen, and farmers - and they are told to do as Jesus does. They head into new places, teaching about the love that God has for all, healing those who need healing, and casting out the demons that keep people separated from those around them. Jesus doesn’t let his hometown’s expectations interfere with what’s he’s called to do. He’s going to go out and love. He’s going to heal the sick. He’s going to preach God’s kingdom and reconcile people to each other and God. And he’s not going to let expectations limit what God’s kingdom looks like, what it does, or who’s welcome to be a part of it. This carpenter’s son isn’t about keeping our expectations - he’s all about keeping God’s. 

Now, when I got back my report from my DNA scan, the piece of paper and map that came back didn’t much I didn’t already know. Certain markers in my DNA and cells showed that my ancestors left Africa, headed east, took a few pit stops in China and Afghanistan, before spending waaay too much time in Siberia before passing into the Americas and spreading, quickly from Alaska all the way to the tip of Chile. But what was awesome in that packet I received was a special invitation. I was invited, along with everyone who stopped by that vendor booth at that street fair, to wake up super early on a Sunday morning and head to Astoria Park. A few hundred people gathered - and formed this giant human map. We modeled what our ancestors did so many years prior - we moved from place to place, leaving our hometown and our homelands to strike out to somewhere new. We connected with our ancestors who didn’t let the expectation of staying local - of staying the way they were - stop them from heading someplace new. We, like our ancestors, are called to be something new. The people who saw Jesus grow up couldn’t imagine that he’d be something brand new. They couldn’t imagine that God, through Jesus, might be doing something worth noticing. Instead, they saw this carpenter’s son - healing, preaching, and loving the world - and they wondered why he wasn’t just standing still. 

We carry with ourselves these kinds of expectations. We carry the expectations of our parents about where we might end up or where we might go. We carry the expectations of our family - of our friends - of the people around us - who have seen us grow up. And we carry with us the expectations we give ourselves: how we’re going to be with our family, how we’re going to raise our kids, how we’re going to find the right kind of career success, and be that special person we’re supposed to be. These expectations are a part of us. They are part of what makes us who we are. They can propel us to amazing places, providing the focus and energy needed to help us change our world. And they can do the opposite, burying us in dirt that we’ll never dig ourselves out of it. But our expectations aren’t God’s expectations and we shouldn’t mix-up the two. Because this God whose own Son was rejected by expectations is the same God who pushes through our limitations to bring about something new. God’s kingdom isn’t about limiting expectation; God’s kingdom is about opening up larger connections. When we’re confronted by expectations - by those from others and by those we bring with us - we’re invited to do what Jesus did - and bring in God’s ever expanding patience, hope, and love. God’s expectation is that separation should never takes the place of healing; that pain should never takes the place of hope; and that fear should never stops us from being God’s love no matter what. God’s expectation is that love, healing, hope, and peace be all that we do. Because even when Jesus felt the pressure of expectations crushing down on him - he still couldn’t help but heal those in his hometown who were sick and needed him. God’s kingdom can’t be stopped by our expectations - so let’s live out God’s expectations instead. 

Amen.