Epiphany 2

A few years ago, inhabitants of a village in northern Nigeria celebrated the renaming of their village. The old name of the town in the Hausa language was “Area of Idiots.” The new name of the village is “Area of Plenty.”  

The local emir announced the name change after residents complained that they had been mocked for years because of that name and were ashamed to tell people where they came from. The village gained its initial name about 70 years ago when people settled close to a river known as the Idiotic River. And no, I don’t know why the river has that name.

The predicament of that village calls to mind the names of some towns here in the United States. What if you lived in Intercourse, Pennsylvania? Or Nothing, Arizona? Or Hell for Certain, Kentucky? Or Satan’s Kingdom, Massachusetts? Or Boogertown, North Carolina? Or Knockemstiff, Ohio? (By the way, the name Knockemstiff doesn’t refer to fighting, but is actually thought to be a reference to the strength of the local moonshine. Knockemstiff.)

Then there’s Slapout, Oklahoma. Apparently, Slapout’s unusual name comes from the local store having low inventory—of being “slap out” of whatever customers wanted.

That brings us to today’s Gospel. A man named Philip has just encountered Christ and has been won over to him. He, in turn, reaches out to a friend, Nathanael, and tells him, “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”

Nathanael is dubious. He says, “Nazareth? Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

Nathanael wasn’t very impressed with Nazareth. While it doesn’t have an embarrassing name like Boogertown, there was obviously nothing of note about Nazareth. It was what it was, a small, dusty, insignificant village of stone homes struggling to stay solvent. Nazareth was unremarkable, undistinguished, unconsidered.  

So, what does a bad rep for Jesus’ “hometown” offer us?

Think of this as the Gospel writer’s offer of verbal intensive care to a world that needs a Savior who is accessible to all.

Verbal intensive care offers believable, accessible words to people when they are in the midst of a terrible crisis. Instead of denying the situation, verbal intensive care addresses the immediate needs of the person.

If you’re the first on the scene of a hit-and-run accident, hovering over the injured while screeching “Don’t die, don’t die!” isn’t going to offer much reassurance.

If you’re the first to come upon someone injured in a car wreck, promising that “everything is fine” or “you’re okay” is not going to ring true either.

Verbal intensive care deals with the real. Verbal intensive care tells the truth: “I know you’re in pain. An ambulance is on the way. You’re not alone.”

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” is the verbal intensive care we all need to hear. It tells the truth to all of us, because we all feel like we’re from Nazareth. The best evidence that proves America is not yet quite a cleanly classless society is our across-the-board conviction that we are all born “on the wrong side of the tracks.”

For some of us, those “tracks” are made of money. We were born genuinely poor.

For some of us, those “tracks” are made of social ties. We are not socially “acceptable” somehow — too slow, too sad, too different, too wimpy, too moody.

For some of us, those “tracks” are physical – we are too fat, too skinny, too ugly, too smart, too handicapped.

In our souls, we are all coming out of our own “Nazareth.”

Nathanael’s question, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth” can be phrased another way in 2024.

“Can anything good come out of my depleted pension?”

“Can anything good come out of my pink slip?”

“Can anything good come out of my spouse’s death?”

“Can anything good come out of my child’s addiction?”

“Can anything good come out of the Gaza mess?”

It is in these “worst times” in the “worst places” of our life, that God’s presence pours in. When you’re at your lowest ebb, when you’re at your worst point, when you are most destroyed, destitute, disinherited, and bankrupt, when you are most damned and damaged, then and there…God wants to do His greatest work in your life.

That’s why just when you think everything is coming to an end, everything is really just beginning. That’s why what Paul called “the word of the cross” (I Corinthians 1:18) is really the wisdom of God. What the world called “the worst of the cross,” the ultimate tragedy, this is where God did His greatest work.

Working “out of Nazareth” is always a hazardous commute. When God “is up to something” in your life, there are two things you can count on. Martin Luther described one perfectly — “Where God builds a church, the Devil builds a chapel.” Evil is active and will gladly move in to add more chaos to our crisis.

But the second certainty we can cling to is that God will do His greatest work in the worst of places. God does His greatest work in the worst of times. God does His greatest work in the worst part of you. In that deepest, darkest hole in your soul, that is where God will send the deepest roots of redemption and forgiveness. That is why Jesus hung on the cross for you.

When you are at your lowest ebb . . .

When you are at your worst point . . .

When you are most destroyed, destitute, disinherited and bankrupt.

When you are most damned and damaged.

Then and there. . . God wants to do His greatest work in your life.

When you think everything is coming to an end, everything is really just beginning.

We all come “out of Nazareth.”

But “out of Nazareth” comes God’s best to bless others.

Notice how today’s Gospel ends. When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”

That’s interesting, don’t you think? Jesus realizes that Nathanael is a person who is also true to his values. He’s a quality young man. Jesus always appreciates people of character, people of integrity.

“How do you know me?” Nathanael asked.

Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you.”

Then Nathanael takes a step that goes even beyond integrity. He finds a purpose. He declares, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel.”

And Nathanael becomes a follower of Jesus. He discovered who Jesus really was and he wanted to follow him. Jesus already knew everything about Nathanael. Just as Jesus knows everything about us. Still, Christ wants to have a relationship with you.

Are you willing to take that step? It makes no difference where you come from—even if it’s Hell for Certain, KY. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done with your life up to this point—even if you’ve been terribly prejudiced toward residents of Boogertown, North Carolina. It’s not too late for you to change. Jesus wants an eternal relationship with you. He’s looking for a few more Nathanaels. He’s looking for you.