Fourteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time, July 7, 2024 - Ezekiel 2:2-5; 2 Corinthians 12:7-10; Mark 6:1-6

So, what was wrong with the picture? Two things, actually. The first is that Nazareth is not mentioned by name. Mark writes, “He went to his native place.” I’m sure that, when you are talking to people, you never refer to Wurtsboro as ‘my native place.’ It’s Wurtsboro. And, in Luke’s gospel - and I’m pretty sure, in Matthew’s - when we get to this story, the writer says Nazareth. But Mark chose to put it that way in order to focus on the prophecy. There is something in the Old Testament that says, “A prophet is not without honor except in his own native place,” and he wants to focus on that expectation or that sad reality. 

The other thing that’s wrong with the picture is that Mark tells us that Jesus was able to do no mighty deeds there, except for curing a few sick people. But, if you think about it, that’s all Jesus ever did. The multiplication of the loaves and fishes was a one-off. In John’s Gospel, the changing of water into wine was a one-off. The raising of the daughter of Jairus was a one-off. The raising of Lazarus was a one-off. The raising of the son of the widow of Naeem was a one-off. The stilling of the waves was a one-off. Happened one time in the entire ministry. But Jesus is constantly, everywhere he goes, curing those who are ill. So, if he cured a couple of people in his native place who are ill, what’s the difference between that and any place else? Why does Mark say he wasn’t able to do any mighty deed there because of their lack of faith? It’s faith that Mark wants to focus on.

Just before this story, we had the two-fold story of the daughter of Jairus and the woman with the hemorrhage. One folded into the other. In each case, faith becomes the issue. When the woman is cured, without Jesus choosing to do that, he says to her, when she confesses, “Daughter, your faith has saved you.” When the people from Jairus’ house arrive on the scene, saying, “Don’t bother the teacher any longer, your daughter’s already dead,” Jesus says to Jairus, “Do not be afraid. Just have faith.” So, the two things that are going on here in the story, that Mark wants to highlight, is the need for faith and the fact that the people in Jesus’ hometown see him as the same-old, same-old. What does Mark say about him? The people say “Ain't this guy the son of Mary? Isn’t this the guy who had the carpenter shop here? Aren't his brothers and sisters so-and-so and so-and-so?” Those names will come up again. Sometimes in the list of the twelve. Sometimes the names of the women standing at the hillside watching the crucifixion. Those names will come up again. They’re real people. So, for them, Jesus is too much a common place. Familiarity breeds contempt, says the old saying, and that’s what St. Mark is writing about, for his own people.  

Each of the gospels was prompted to be written by some crisis in the community where the writer lived. The crisis facing Mark's community is several-fold. It’s taking place around the same time as the siege of Jerusalem. Scholars are not sure whether the siege was over already or whether it had just begun. But it’s a time of great peril for the place that is still the capital of the Christian community. They have not yet moved their allegiance to Rome. And in Rome, sometime in the past five years, both Peter and Paul have been executed, on the orders of Nero. And a general persecution broke out against Christians because of that. And so, we have people who are afraid to be Christian. Afraid of getting caught and tortured and murdered themselves. They also are in danger of losing their community. For the early Christians, their faith was experienced as community. Not as you and I do, but by gathering for Eucharist whenever there was the ability to do so. And, almost always, the head of household, or the head of community, broke bread and blessed the chalice during a community meal. Being unable to gather felt like they were losing their faith. And so, Mark writes, to strengthen their faith and to make them recognize that their community is more than just a shared meal, so that the gospel can continue to be preached I time of trouble. That’s why the story is told the way it’s told.

What about us? My class. The class of priests ordained in 1969, any place in the United States, were the first priests ever ordained in the English language. Completely in the English language. We were the first priests ever, in the United States, to celebrate our first Masses completely in the English language. We didn't recognize then how historic a moment in the life of the Church that was. Because, at that time, there were many people who had reacted angrily to the change from Latin to English. They reacted that way because they felt that the sense of mystery connected to the Latin Mass was lost to them. It used to be that, for six days and twenty-three hours of every week, you lived the hum-drum ordinary. And, for one hour you were transported   to a different reality, with quiet, and symbolism, and priests whispering words that you didn't understand. If you were a good Catholic, you had a Sunday missal, and you had the priest’s words on this side and your words on that side. But basically, it was an experience apart. And that had been taken away by the English language. 

On the other hand, there was a slightly larger majority of people who welcomed the English liturgy with open arms. And one of the things about the new English liturgy is that, after years and years and years of Latin chant, which only the choir could sing, – badly - all of a sudden, we had to sing in English. The first English hymns we used, we borrowed from the Protestants. Great hymns of the 18^th-, 19^th- and 20th century became our staple of repertoire. But what else was happening at the same time? The folk movement in America allowed young people to create singable music about the Catholic faith that was easy to learn. It wasn’t very good music, but it was, almost always, doctrinally correct, although, doctrinally, much simpler than the Mass itself really is.   

But, between the early years of the 1970’s and the late years of the 1980’s, a great group of American Catholic composers began to compose what we call ‘contemporary church music’  that is singable, but has much greater richness and depth, both in melody and in content. And people began to embrace that music, so that it became part of our worship. But, because of that, because of the change of the style of worship, slowly, slowly, slowly, the great Mass began the same-old, same-old. 

Recent polls taken among American Catholics taken over the last, say, fifteen years or so, indicate that either a large minority or a small majority of Catholics no longer believe in the real presence. But those poll figures are difficult to interpret because of the language used in the polls. Sometimes, the language used in the polls is too theological for the average poll answerer to answer correctly. That some people say that they think the Eucharist is only a symbol, don’t really mean that, when they say it. Because they don’t understand the difference between symbol and sacrament. And so, when they’re asked a question, they give the wrong answer. Although, when they come up to receive Communion, they still really believe they’re receiving Jesus. Nevertheless, there is a crisis of belief about some of the most basic things that we hold dear in the Catholic faith.  

I say two things. First of all, we live in a time of weakened faith. Not simply weakened religious faith, but faith in general. People find it harder to believe in the things we always believed in. Whatever those things might be. Country, family, media, whatever it is, we find it harder to put our faith and trust in them. And so, it’s not surprising that we have entered an era of weakened religious faith. But faith always rebounds. And religious faith is never really gone. It is God’s gift to us in Baptism. Continues to be ours, unless we deliberately destroy it. What I’ve said so far doesn't indicate, in any way, that Catholics are about the deliberate destruction of their faith, but simply that, the things that we hold dear have become ho-hum, and we find it difficult to have a lively faith in an era of weakened faith.   

So, we should try, more eagerly, to enter into the worship that we have been given. To enjoy what we do here in this hour. To relish it, to participate in it, and to appreciate it. And we should try to trust that God will strengthen our faith, through the extent that faith in this time and place is able to be strengthened.