Brief synopsis of the readings: We begin with the prophet Ezekiel and the Lord speaking through him. God told Ezekiel that he is being sent to the Israelites who were “[h]ard of face and obstinate of heart.” Even if they don’t heed his words of conversion they will know that a prophet has been among them. Mark’s Gospel recounts Jesus returning to his “native place” and teaching in the synagogue. But instead of listening to him the crowd gossiped among themselves that he couldn’t bring any wisdom as they knew him as the son of Joseph and Mary, the brother of James, Joses, Judas, and Simon. As a matter of fact they were offended by his daring to try to teach them. Jesus responded that a “prophet is not without honor except in his native place.” He wasn’t able to perform any deeds apart from curing a few sick people. “He was amazed at their lack of faith.”

When I first decided to study for the priesthood I was living in Virginia but chose an order based in Boston. On my second attempt at seminary I was living in California and chose an order based in New York. My decisions weren’t based on this Gospel but I did kid some of my diocesan friends that when they showed up at their home parish with a roman collar they’d be largely ignored. Full disclosure, that never really happened and nearly everyone was pleased to see a “local boy made good.” But there is some truth to Jesus’ experience.

Reading the Gospels we normally read about Jesus’ successes and how he captured the audience’s attention when he taught in the Temple. The difference here isn’t Jesus but the crowd. They believed that since they knew him they knew everything about him and that God certainly wouldn’t have chosen “Joe’s kid.” It’s almost as if this reflects badly on us that we didn’t see the potential of Joe’s kid. And in fairness there is an allure in going to hear someone you’ve only heard about.

This is hardly new territory but we can see our history as a series of us not understanding or even believing God’s choices for us and among us. We see star athletes who didn’t make their high school teams, musicians who were told to look for another career, etc.

Sometimes that means we need to allow ourselves to be continually surprised and accepting of what we see. But it also means we should be careful about what we tell people they won’t ever be able to do. I’ve always loved reading and listening to the comic David Sedaris. But it doesn’t take long to hear about the difficult relationship he had with his father. I haven’t been able to track this down but I remember David talking about how is father would say things to him when he was a child like: “You’re a real zero. You know that?” I’m amazed that David’s reaction was to work harder to prove his father wrong, and I’m grateful he did that. Unfortunately it’s been my experience that most children will believe his parent and will never fully never find joy in pursuing their passions.

Now this isn’t just good parenting advice; there’s a deeper theological truth here. We are all called to love and part of that means trusting our relationships, believing that the other person wants the best for us. This is particularly true in relationships come from places of authority like parents or teachers.

I hope I’m not pressing the point too hard but sometimes I see horrible examples of this in religious situations. Sometimes we place ourselves in the position of being “God’s enforcer.” I’ve witnessed horrible things said under the guise of “I don’t want you to be disappointed,” or even worse, “tough love.” Only God knows our full potential and when we convince ourselves that we can see into another’s future we risk discouraging what ought to be encouraged.

As Catholics it has been a given that God calls only men to the priesthood, and for the last 1000 years only unmarried men. Because of this we have been at times hostile and at time condescending in telling women who felt called to the priesthood that they are simply mistaken. This became clear to me when a woman I deeply respect told me how she feels that she would be a good priest and frankly I agree. She basically said the same thing I said when I was discerning my vocation. And while I was welcomed with open arms she was told she must be mistaken because God just doesn’t do that. Her response was that if she wasn’t called to be a priest what was the harm in allowing her to try? After all if we trust that the formation process will determine God’s call for half of us, why not the other half?

I know this is controversial and it calls us to reimagine what we think about priesthood. But perhaps that reimagining is exactly what is needed here. When Jesus’ neighbors discounted his teaching because he was “Joe’s kid” they suffered from the same lack of imagination. They didn’t give Jesus a hearing not because his words rang hollow but because they decided they knew God’s mind.

And, finally, their lack of imagination actually harmed Jesus’ ability: “So he was not able to perform any mighty deeds there.” Their lack of faith and imagination not only robbed them of Jesus’ wisdom it robbed them of his healing. As I said last week, so often when Jesus heals someone he reminds them that their faith has saved them. The healing doesn’t come entirely from Jesus and it certainly doesn’t come entirely from us. Part of what needs to happen is that we can accept what Jesus offers us but we can’t do that if we rely wholly on our agenda and our limitations.

The invitation Jesus gives us isn’t meant simply to fix what’s broken with us. It’s also meant to allow us to see miracles in a whole new way and to expand our view of ourselves and each other. And God. When we say that we have an awesome God we mean it: God’s love for us should always be a source of awe.

And what God dreams for us? Stay tuned.