“Not Just Another Band-Aid”

Fourth Sunday after Epiphany

January 30, 2022

Jeremiah 1:4-10

Luke 4:21-30

It started off so well. The people of Nazareth felt honored that one of their own had made such a name for himself. He had come home to them. He read in the Synagogue, this son of Joseph. What a remarkable story—a carpenter’s son becoming infamous for all of the healing and driving out of demons he had been doing in the area. And now he was home. And everyone waited for him to lavish his magic upon them—to cure their ills and ease their pain. It started off so well.

If only he had stopped while he was ahead. If only he hadn’t kept talking. After reading from Isaiah—a passage about setting the oppressed free and releasing the captive and restoring sight to the blind—he sat down to teach. And everyone waited for what he would say—what he would do.

But Jesus never does say or do what people expect. His goal, it seems, is never to make people comfortable. He isn’t satisfied with telling people what they want to hear. No, he pokes the bear. He pushes against what the people anticipate from him. He says, “Obviously, you’re going to say, ‘Doctor, heal yourself.’ Take care of your own. Do the miracles and magic you did for the people in Capernaum. Well, listen up. Look at your history books. Elijah didn’t help any of the widows in his own country but went to Sidon, to a widow there, and did his miracles. And Elisha didn’t go to any of the lepers in his own region but healed Naaman, a general for the enemy. This is so because prophets aren’t appreciated in their own country.”

And what they heard was that they weren’t as worthy of miracles as those who didn’t know him. What they heard was that they didn’t deserve what he had to offer. What they heard was a criticism of who they were and what they did. And in anger, they planned to kill him. Their praise so quickly turned to anger.

But perhaps what they heard wasn’t what he said. It’s true, hometown folks can never quite shed their past. When they come back, someone is going to say how they changed his diaper; how she vomited on their rug; how she was so cute in pigtails; how they remember how he tried to date their daughter. It’s so difficult to take seriously as an adult and an authority someone with whom you have a history. When my mom comes to visit, she still calls me ‘baby girl.’ You can imagine what that does for my own sense of authority and confidence as a pastor of a congregation.

But there’s more to what Jesus is saying—and doing. Though he has done some healing and miracles in other places, he hasn’t healed everyone. I often get frustrated with God when I think about those who have experienced healing in their bodies and yet others don’t. Why them, Lord? Why not me? Why not MY loved one? Why in the first century but not now?

We forget that Jesus didn’t come to simply—and temporarily—mend broken bodies. He came to mend—permanently—a broken world. He didn’t come to put a bandaid on cancer or kiss a missing limb. He came to change the systems in which we participate so that we can begin the process of healing—from the inside out.

Less than 10 years ago, Lawrence, KS had a huge mental health crisis on their hands. The local mental health emergency response had closed down. The closest place one could go in an emergency was Topeka. Often, those in a mental health emergency were taken to jail simply because there were no other options. In addition, the mental health crisis extended—as it often does—to those living on the streets, and to those incarcerated. The situation felt overwhelming, and many in the community lost sleep over it—over what would happen or DID happen to their own loved ones.  

In steps the DART Center—DART stands for Direct Action and Research Training. With the help and buy-in of 18 congregations and their leaders—people from a variety of religious backgrounds—they began to listen to the concerns of the community. The issue of mental health quickly rose to the surface. They worked with attorneys and government officials, finally passing bills that would increase and direct sales tax—with overall approval, I might add—that accomplished the following:

·         Stopped a massive jail expansion in favor of safe, cost-effective alternatives and reforms

·         In its place, they constructed the most comprehensive behavioral health crisis center in the state of Kansas

·         Dedicated public funding to create and preserve Affordable Housing in Lawrence

·         And because of this work, chronic homelessness is eradicated, the justice system has more options than simply incarceration, and all the faculty and staff in the Lawrence Public Middle Schools receive Restorative Justice training—helping curb the school to prison pipeline.

The bandaids weren’t working. And the miracle wasn’t that these processes were put in place. The miracle was the coming together of people of faith, across religious and political divides, changing the minds and hearts of a community, and working as a whole to move toward a better solution.

We often hear the proverb, ‘Give a person a fish, and your feed them for a day; teach them to fish, and you feed them for a lifetime.’ Or the story about the people who continue to pull people out of the river until someone final says, ‘There comes a time when we need to stop pulling people out of the water and go upstream to find out why so many are falling in.’ The people in Nazareth—and so many of us so much of the time—can’t quite move upstream. We want Jesus to pull the people out of the water. We want him to help the immediate. We want him to take care of what concerns us—here and now.

But Jesus keeps calling us upstream. He calls us to address the systems behind the crisis. He calls us to learn and understand and get uncomfortable with that truth. Because it’s only when we are finally uncomfortable will we—just perhaps—be inclined to do something about it.

Besides, it’s exhausting to keep pulling people out of the water. We are weary from the effort of throwing money at the surface instead of going deeper and getting at the roots. The DART Center has begun conversations with a number of Lincoln clergy. We are in the process of determining what keeps you all up at night. And soon, we’ll start looking at what we can do to change—not just the pain—but the whole system behind it.

I think that’s what Jesus’ message was about. He came to set the oppressed free. Do we want to be free—from our prejudice and privilege and power systems? He came to release the captives.  Are we prepared to be released from all the things that hold us captive—entitlement and fear and the delicate balance of the roles everyone plays in society? He came to give sight to the blind. Are we ready to see—to see one another as worth the effort; to see our own history in all its shame and glory; to see down to the root of sin? He came to bring good news to the poor. Will this be good news for you? For me? Absolutely.

Because the good news—the beauty of the good news—is that no one is free until all are free. No one is safe until all are safe. No one is whole until the world is whole. I am so ready to be free from all the things that close in on me—all the things that darken the doorway of my heart. Jesus doesn’t tell his hometown he won’t help them. He tells them that the help they truly need isn’t just a bandaid—and his mission is to bind up and heal all of creation—THROUGH them. Through us. Through the faithful response of God’s people.

So, everyone take a deep, breath. Because this won’t happen overnight—but we are on the way. Empowered by the Spirit, God is leading us to wholeness.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE