Sermon, by Pastor Joel
February 2, 2025
Jeremiah 1:4-10
Psalm 71:1-6
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Luke 4:21-30
The context of this sermon is
100% written by a human
A person is not without honour except in their own home. This is the famous line that emerged from our gospel this morning. And who among us doesn’t know the truth of it in one way or another? It speaks to the way that going home, either at the end of the day, or at Christmas for a short stay, places us among people who know us, in some ways better than we know ourselves. They know what makes us happy. They know who we used to be, and who we are away from the expectations of the outside world. If we are lucky, those memories bring laughter, and changes are accepted and embraced. If we’re less lucky, the home crowd knows where to poke the wounds that hurt us most. They might feel threatened or judged by the way we have changed and lash out. Just like the people did when Jesus returned to his hometown, preaching the gospel.
“Isn’t this Joseph, the carpenter’s son?” they ask one another. The gospel of Jesus doesn’t only fall flat, it riles them up. “Who the heck does this guy think he is to preach to us?” we can imagine them huffing to one another. “We knew him when he was in diapers.” They feel judged and criticized. “Was his home not good enough for him?” someone might have said. “Does he think he’s better than us?”
In the end, these former neighbors of Jesus become so enraged, they plot to throw him over a cliff.
They are so filled with insecurity, defensiveness, and close-mindedness that they miss their moment: to hear the gospel and gain wisdom.
And so we hear that famous acknowledgement from Jesus, as it appears in this passage from Luke: “Truly I tell you, no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown.”
But as this line appears in Luke, it is about much more than Jesus’s being teased and threatened by the bullies and judgers that knew him when he was young.
We are reminded with this passage that it’s often those considered least deserving who receive and follow the gospel with the most wisdom, and the ones who believe themselves most deserving who fail to receive it with any wisdom at all.
As the crowd is turning against him, Jesus speaks of Elisha, who, among all the lepers in Israel at the time, chose to cleanse only one – a soldier from Syria. And of all the widows in need, Elijah was sent to one: the poorest of women in Zarephath. Both are examples of times when God’s care was given to those who exhibited faith and trust and openness – regardless of race or background. They are both reminders that no one falls outside God’s grace. And that no one person is more deserving than another – not even the community who helped raise the son of God, only to fear and reject him later.
The very human story of Elijah and the widow, whose name we never learn, is the example I want to focus on this morning. When Elijah first meets the woman who will save his life, he’s in a bad spot. He’s angered powerful leaders with talk of drought, and he is on the run.
He finds his way to Zarephath, where he is guided – the Old Testament says – to one woman in particular. She is, by her description, the least likely to come to his aid. She and her son are starving, and she is getting water to prepare what she believes will be their last meal. Elijah asks if she will make a loaf for him, and promises her that if he does, things will work out. So she brings him home, and shares what little she has, and a miracle occurs: they eat well all week.
But when her son gets sick, in her grief, the widow unfairly blames the easiest person – this strange man who has shown up at her house. Elijah does not leave, though he’d repaid his debt with bread. He begs and prays to God to save her son, just as the woman’s faith had saved him. And his prayers are answered.
This story has been interpreted many ways, but let’s consider it in the context of Jesus, standing before his fuming former neighbors, who have turned on him.
Jesus is observing that when people feel entitled to benefit from something, they often value it the least. If we come to church every Sunday and do our bit, we might think we get a golden ticket to heaven, but if we do not truly hear the words of the gospel – if we judge and gossip and spread harm – we have been blinded to the presence of God on earth.
The widow, with nothing to her name, took Elijah into her home. How many others would have turned their backs or even called the authorities? Because Elijah was there, her family was fed. How many times have judgement and closed-mindedness cost us the chance to experience God’s bounty? And, as the Old Testament says, because Elijah was welcomed, when her son fell ill, he was healed. How many times has a lack of generosity and openness led us to miss the power of the divine in our lives?
People aren’t without honour except in their own home. When we hear that line, we often think of ourselves as the person not getting recognition at home or being forced to play a part they have long grown out of. It is that person who must adapt then – to accept their home as it is - or shorten the stay.
But, of course, it’s not the person at all who is missing out. Just like it was not Jesus. When we fail to accept change in those we love, we don’t get to know who they truly are. When we don’t listen with fresh ears to familiar voices, we learn nothing new. When we aren’t open to new ways of hearing the gospel, our own telling of it becomes unbending and narrow.
As Jesus is constantly reminding us, the gospel is offered to everyone. The starving widow. The foreign leper. The tax collector and the fisherman. It may also be spoken and shared by anyone: that same poor widow, those fishermen, the Good Samaritan. Even that son of Joseph the carpenter.
Think of it: the people of Nazareth were so unwilling to listen, that, according to Luke, they drove The Messiah out of town and tried to throw him off a cliff. What might have happened had they opened their minds and hearts to listen can never be known.
May we all be wiser than they were.
Amen.
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