0217 HIGH NOON IN NAZARETH

HIGH NOON AT NAZARETH

NAZARETH. Not much of a place to look at, up on that hill. No fort. No walls. No need, really, if you think about it. I mean, who’d want it? Not exactly the kind of place a king would want to build himself a palace.

But Nazareth was a great place for a Jewish boy to grow up. Jesus and His family lived there from the time He was a preschooler, and here He was turning thirty. Having His Homecoming at the synagogue—the same Jewish Synagogue where He’d grown up. The only church in town: First Nazarene Seventh Day Holiness Assembly (Northern Jezreel District of the Southern Galilean Conference, Kosher Preserved Convention). Pretty much the whole town was there, just like they were every Sabbath. They all knew young Jesus, Mary's son. Teachers, mentors, family, friends, peers, even the librarian—they were all there for the service.With a potluck to follow.

As I say, for a Jewish boy, the location couldn't be beat. On the south edge of town is an excavated cliff overlooking the Jezreel Valley. With its sharp dropoff, it provides a magnificent view.

Young Jesus’ Sabbath School teacher would often take the boys there to teach them Bible stories. From that very special spot, they could see pretty much the entire history of the saints of old unfold before them.

Off to the left is the Jordan River, and to the right’s the Mediterranean Sea. You can nearly see both bodies of water from here, the whole land is so compact and rich with the history of the saints and sinners of the ages.

Just off to the left, blocking the view of the river, Mount Tabor rises out of the plain, like a big—well—mound in the middle of a plain, I guess you’d say. That’s where Deborah rallied the troops of Israel and had great glory. Straight ahead in the valley is the battlefield where Saul and his boy Johnny were both killed. On the other side is Mount Gilboa, where God used Gideon to deliver Israel with only 300 brave men.

Nearby is where evil Jezebel went splat on the ground and got eaten by dogs. (The boys would always ask for that story, you can be sure.) Over to the right’s where Elijah had a showdown with ol’ Jezebel’s false prophets. They say stories like that make a boy grow bold. Stories like that make a man walk straight. Yes sir.

Where was I? Oh, right, this cliff! 

Jesus’ Homecoming Synagogue.

See, after a boy has been inducted into official manhood at the city gate, they have him preach to the hometown crowd. Everybody’s there, smiling and proud of their homey, as if they’d somehow made Him with their own hands. You know how it is. He’s so handsome and well-mannered (if a bit peculiar). Never did nobody no wrong.

Every eye is on Him. He reads from Isaiah. Says that it’s being fulfilled this very day!

Every Nazarene’s thinking, we’re gonna be famous at last! Then Jesus’ talk takes a turn they don’t like. He quotes two stories from the Bible on how God chose to bless Gentiles. The widow in Elijah's time, just up to the north. Naaman the leper, right over there at the Jordan River. The townsfolk scratch their heads, and whisper to one another, “What’s up here? Was Jesus saying that God’s going to choose Gentiles?”

I'll tell you, nothing will get a good Jew worked up quicker than talking about God loving people that ain’t His chosen ones. The after-synagogue crowd’s experiencing some serious low blood sugar, and talking about Gentiles sure isn’t helping things.

Suddenly, the whole town gets angrier than a pit bull seeing a postman.

They all are deciding He’s not our little boy-turned-prophet! He’s a terrible heretic, worthy of death! The men all grab Jesus and rush Him off to—you guessed it—The Cliff.

They surround Jesus, His back to the edge of the cliff. He gazes at those life-long members of First Nazarene Seventh Day Holiness Assembly: His mentors, His teachers, His family, His friends, His librarian. They all are looking at Him, and then past Him to that great Valley of History.

High noon in Nazareth.

Zoom your brain in on Jesus’ eyes, as He stands tall and faces His opponents.

Cut to one of the elders, shooting Him a steely glare. Cut to Mary, eyes darting back and forth. His old teacher flexes his fingers and cracks his knuckles all sinister-like.

Somewhere in the distance a mourning dove gives a coo, and it sounds like that flute noodle in those old Westerns. More silence. More closeups.

Nearby, a cricket lets one fly.

Then Jesus starts to walk, right out through the crowd.

Somehow, they can’t move to act on murdering this One who quotes stories they’d told Him themselves, even though they don't understand. Jesus slips through the crowd and leaves. Never to return.

Imagine being rejected by the lowest of the low. But that was Jesus. Kicked out of the least respected synagogue in all Israel. Nowhere to go from here but—down, actually.

Sure enough. Nazareth had been a great place to grow up. But it ain't a great place to die. The Prophet’s got to move on to Jerusalem for that. It’s right ahead, yonder about sixty miles, as the crow flies.