The Synagogue at Nazareth

The Synagogue had several purposes.  It was the place where the village stored their scrolls in jars. It was a gathering place for celebrations, a community center of sorts.  During the week it provided a school for boys.  It was also a court house to settle village disputes.  Central to its purpose was its use to gather to read from the scrolls, the Torah.  We walked into the simple and starkly empty space.

I know it wasn’t right here in this very space.  I understand this is a reproduction.  But in a place like this, Jesus announced his mission for the first time. I can hear it . . .

“The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor
He has sent me to proclaim
            freedom for the prisoners
            and recovery of sight for the blind,
            to release the oppressed,
            to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

Hometown boy returns
And word traveled fast,
Memories even faster.

                Jesus was friend to my firstborn.

                He was his father’s shadow.
                His mother’s joy.
                No one like him.
                None indeed.

With nods and smiles and hometown waves
They welcomed him with great pride.
Then, he came to synagogue
And read the prophecy from Isaiah 61
Adding his very own commentary--

            Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.

Hope sowed.

Mission cast.
       

Can a hometown boy be more than we remember?
       They asked.
             Isn’t he Joseph’s boy?
                     They scoffed.

Was that a question or their answer?
Isn’t that the disconnect,
That our carefully held assertions
Need no examination?  
After all, we know what we know.
 

Jesus stood among the men who watched him grow up.

Did his heart beat with excitement? 
Did his stomach roll?
Nothing stopped the words that
Divided what had been from what would be.
Jesus wouldn’t be who they wanted him to be
Hometown boy or not.

                      And so,

                      The welcome mats

                      So proudly displayed . . .
Were withdrawn.