JESUS LEFT THERE and went to his hometown, accompanied by his disciples. 2When the Sabbath came, he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were amazed.
“Where did this man get these things?” they asked. “What’s this wisdom that has been given him, that he even does miracles! 3Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him.
4Jesus said to them, “Only in his hometown, among his relatives and in his own house is a prophet without honor.” 5He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them. 6And he was amazed at their lack of faith.
Original Meaning
JESUS MOVES ON from the area where his extraordinary works would seem to guarantee astounding success and travels to his own country. Mark never explains the rationale behind Jesus’ movements to and fro. We only know that Jesus intends to proclaim the message throughout Galilee (1:38–39), that he will not be confined to any one town, and that he frequently seeks to escape the press of the crowds (3:9; 4:36; 6:31, 45–46). Jesus’ home turf would seem to have good potential for success except that we know his family has already tried to collar him and bring him back there because they were convinced he was unbalanced if not insane (3:21, 31). Again Jesus teaches in the synagogue on the Sabbath (6:2a; see 1:21, 39; 3:1), and again “many who heard him were amazed.” The reader should not be surprised that Jesus rouses astonishment in others (1:22; 2:12; 5:20), but in this town it swiftly becomes suspicion.
Blindness to the truth takes many forms, and those closest to Jesus do not have an advantage in understanding who he is. They are perplexed about the source of Jesus’ wisdom and deeds and ask themselves (6:2b), “What’s this wisdom that has been given him…?” Mark does not tell us the content of Jesus’ teaching or what mighty works he performed that stimulate the curiosity of his fellow townsmen, but the miracles are integrally related to his teaching and wisdom (1:27). The question assumes that wisdom has been given to Jesus and that miracles have been done by his hands. What they cannot ascertain is where one so familiar to them could get all this power. Their preoccupation with this issue means that they never get around to asking the crucial question: What does it all mean? The answer to that question will ultimately lead them to the answer of its source (see 3:27). They are not driven so much by a desire to know what is behind Jesus’ miracles as by an itch to confirm their private prejudice that he cannot be all that remarkable.
Their query about Jesus is the third in a series of questions raised by those who have been bowled over by his teaching and his deeds. First, a synagogue gathering asked, “What is this?” (1:27); next some teachers of the law and then Jesus’ disciples asked themselves, “Who is this?” (2:7; 4:41). Now, the question has to do with the origin or source of his deeds and teaching, “From where is this?” The hometown crowd does not go as far as the teachers of the law from Jerusalem and ascribe it to Beelzebub (3:22), an unpardonable sin. They simply think it unlikely that God can work so dramatically in this fellow who comes from their midst. They cannot get beyond the infinitesimal size of the mustard seed and can see nothing else.
Jesus is in his old stamping ground, and his townsfolk believe they know all there is to know about him and his family background. Nothing about it leads them to suspect anything portentous about him. The circumstances of Jesus’ birth and his life before his baptism and ministry were unimportant to Mark. He has only told us that Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee (1:9). The reader belatedly learns more about Jesus’ background from the incidental question, “Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon?” These details are not crucial to the gospel about Jesus, but they stir our curiosity.
A tekton (traditionally translated “carpenter”) is someone who could work with wood, metal, or stone. He could be a builder, a mason, or a carpenter. In Jesus’ Palestinian context, it probably denoted a woodworking handyman. He would have the skill to do almost anything—from crafting plows and yokes, to making pieces of furniture, cupboards, stools, and benches, to erecting small buildings, particularly making the beams, window lattices, doors, and bolts. Jesus must have been technically skilled and physically strong. Meier asserts: “The airy weakling often presented to us in pious paintings and Hollywood movies would hardly have survived the rigors of being Nazareth’s tekton from his youth to his early thirties.”1 The names of his brothers—James (lit., Jacob), Joseph, Judah, and Simon—are those of the patriarchs and two of the famous Maccabee brothers, and they suggest a family that observed the law strictly and hoped for the redemption of Israel. His sisters are unnamed and unnumbered, reflecting the ancient bias that females are embedded in males and do not merit much attention.
The people of Nazareth identify Jesus as “Mary’s son.” Normally, a man is identified as the son of his father.2 Some have suggested that by identifying him only as the son of his mother they are maligning him (see Judg. 11:1–2) and perhaps are harking back to rumors that the circumstances of Jesus’ birth were suspicious.3 Others have argued that they refer to him as Mary’s son to distinguish him from Joseph’s children by his first wife.4 Still others suggest they refer to him in this way because his father is no longer alive and they are expressing their familiarity with his mother, who resides there. The first option has little to support it. The second is possible, but the last seems to be the most likely because the references to his brothers and sisters emphasize that he is simply “a local boy.” He is well known as a carpenter. Everyone knows his brothers and his sisters, living right there among them. They think they have Jesus pegged. This one is just Mary’s boy, who used to be one of us.
Their ruminations about Jesus imply some annoyance: Who does he think he is, going around preaching and healing? Is this not the brother of those we know so well? Are not his sisters living here with us? Their questions are phrased in such a way in the Greek to expect the answer “yes.” The attentive reader knows, however, that on another level the answer to their questions is more complicated: “No, they are not.” For Mark, Jesus is the Son of God (1:1, 11; 9:7; 15:39), which answers the question about the source of his wisdom and mighty works; and Jesus has already made it clear that only those who do the will of his Father are his mother, brothers, and sisters (3:34–35).
The upshot of their analysis of Jesus’ origins is that they are scandalized by him. They do not seem to be put off by what he taught. Their questions have to do with his origin, and they think they know who this one is and where he comes from.5 The scandal of the gospel turns up again. There is nothing phenomenal or rare about Jesus’ family or trade, and his humble origin makes him implausible as some great figure of wisdom. How can someone so ordinary do marvels and speak wisdom? How can this one so familiar to us be God’s anointed? It is almost as if they themselves admit that nothing this good can come out of Nazareth (John 1:46).
Perhaps familiarity breeds contempt. The expert at a conference is usually the one who has come from farthest away. The people in Nazareth know Jesus “from a worldly point of view” (2 Cor. 5:16), and their “very familiarity with him is a hindrance to knowing him truly, for it makes it all the more hard for them to see through the veil of his ordinariness.”6 They see him as only a local yokel like themselves.
Perhaps others are put off because he is a craftsman. Jews had a high regard for manual labor, but some drew a sharp distinction between the scribe, who devotes himself to study, and the laborer, who must work with his hands. According to Sirach 38:24–34, the wisdom of the scribe depends on the opportunity of leisure to study while the artisan is too much engaged in business to become wise. The artisan labors night and day and talks only of his work. Consequently, “they do not sit in the judges’ seat, nor do they understand the decisions of the courts; they cannot expound discipline or judgment, and they are not found among the rulers” (Sir. 38:33, NRSV). The passage concludes by underscoring how different the one is who devotes himself entirely to the study of the law, and it goes on in 39:1–11 to glorify the scribe.
Jesus responds to the skepticism of his townsfolk by recalling the old saw that a prophet is without honor among his own (6:4). It provides an explanation for their unbelief, but not an excuse. His response marks the first time in this Gospel that the term prophet is applied to Jesus, and it evokes images associated with the prophets in the Scripture. Jesus has come like a prophet and is rejected like a prophet. The saying intimates that he will suffer the inevitable fate of a prophet, and the martyrdom of the prophet John the Baptizer will soon be described (6:17–29). Jesus’ rejection in his own hometown foreshadows his rejection by his own people whom he came to deliver—a rejection that will culminate in Jerusalem.
Mark concludes this incident with a notice that Jesus can do no miracles in Nazareth except heal a few people and that he marvels over their unbelief (6:5–6a). His fellow citizens do not think that he even comes up to the level of prophet; how can they begin to comprehend the full truth about Jesus? Both he and his countrymen are dumbfounded by each other. The reader may also marvel that they will not believe. The negative reaction to Jesus in Nazareth makes them little different from the land where the pigs and pagans dwell, and one can better appreciate the difficulty faced by the one who is known formerly as the Gerasene demoniac and must give witness in his hometown. Jesus will not enter the synagogue again but moves to open places, where crowds can come from all over (cf. 6:6b).7
Bridging Contexts
A POINT, COUNTERPOINT pattern develops in Mark’s account as the demons cry out Jesus’ identity and humans question it.8 The people gathered in the Nazareth synagogue are the last in a series of persons to raise the question about who Jesus is.
|
Demonic Cry |
Human Question |
||
1:24: |
“I know who you are—the Holy One of God!” |
1:27: |
“What is this? A new teaching—and with authority!” |
1:34: |
“He would not let the demons speak because they knew who he was.” |
2:7: |
“Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?” |
3:11: |
“You are the Son of God.” |
4:41: |
“Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!” |
5:7: |
“What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” |
6:3: |
“Isn’t this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters here with us?” |
This alternating pattern of declaration and question forces the reader to ask why the human characters cannot see and to wonder if they ever will see. What will it take for humans to recognize, as the demons immediately do, that this is the Son of God? Since Jesus still goes unrecognized, we should ask the same question of our contemporaries.
In his magisterial commentary, Gundry claims that Mark wrote his Gospel “to rescue people” from falling into the trap of being offended by Jesus, “by identifying the true origin of Jesus’ wisdom and power, which may counteract the scandal of the Crucifixion (cf. Matt. 11:6 par. Luke 7:23).”9 The truth is that one must pass through the scandal before one can see with the eyes of faith. The people in Nazareth had plenty of evidence of Jesus’ authority but rejected him because they could not get past their evaluation of what they took to be his modest credentials. In bridging the contexts, we should point out the scandal and allow it to stand.
The American bias expects to hear that a famous industrialist, politician, or celebrity came from servile roots, pulled himself or herself up by the bootstraps, and escaped from a web of poverty to rise up the ladder of success. Many wear their humble background as a badge of honor. In the time of Jesus the world was ordered by rigidly defined class lines. Social mobility was limited, and one could expect to remain within the confines of the class in which one was born. A noble parentage, being “well-born,” was considered essential if one hoped to be considered great.10
Compare, for example, Josephus’s introduction of his qualifications to the readers of his Life. He gives a brief rundown of his genealogy to identify himself as descending from a noble family (Life 2 § 7; J. W. 5.9.4 § 419). He comes from priestly descent, those considered to be of the highest rank (Life 1 § 1; see J. W. 1.1.1 § 3; 3.8.3 § 352; 5.9.4 § 419; Ag. Ap. 1 § 54). He also claims royal stock, the Hasmoneans, on his mother’s side (Life 1 §§ 2–4). He boasts that he excelled all his compatriots in his exact knowledge of law and that he is uniquely capable of interpreting the Scriptures for a Greek audience (Ant. 20.12.1 § § 262–65). Regarding Jesus, therefore, it would have been a shock in the ancient world that the supreme God would come to us in one from such a humble town, from such a humble family, and from such a humble trade. We would ask what the Nazareth hometown folk asked: How does this Jesus dare rise above his roots?
Mark does not ease the problem of Jesus’ humble origins but accentuates it. He tells us nothing of Jesus’ noble genealogical pedigree that would augur his rise to stardom, only that his fellow citizens recognize nothing remarkable about his background. No one apparently notices him as a prodigy or says to him: “I always knew that you would grow up to be the Messiah.” No one notices the halo that adorns most of our portraits of the young Jesus. Not even his family members, according to Mark, recognize his divine vocation. His fellow townsmen deem themselves to be his equal and regard him simply as the neighbor’s boy, a local artisan.
The Greeks and Romans viewed labor as demeaning. Secundus, an Athenian orator, was mocked as a “wooden nail” because he was the son of a carpenter. Celsus (in the late second century) derided Jesus for having been simply a carpenter, sarcastically connecting his work to his crucifixion. Origen countered that the Gospels never describe Jesus as working with his hands (Contra Celsum, 6.36). The elite in the Greco-Roman world assumed that a person in such a craft was uneducated and uncouth, and the contemporary readers of Mark’s Gospel had to overcome whatever bias they might have had about such things to believe that a humble carpenter could be the mighty Son of God.11 Many could not see how God could speak and act through such a one who seemed so commonplace.
Contemporary Significance
WE HAVE TENDED over the years to remove the original offense associated with Jesus’ background and to romanticize his trade as a carpenter. Some today imagine him as a master builder of grand edifices in the surrounding cities rather than a journeyman carpenter crafting simple yokes and beams or a rough construction worker working in stone. The apocryphal infancy Gospels invented all kinds of fantastic stories about Jesus, attempting to glorify his youth as a Wunderkind. Modern preachers have suggested that Jesus would have been the star of their favorite sport at his high school as well as the class valedictorian. This attempt to inject more grandeur into Jesus’ background reveals that we are still influenced by the world’s standards of judgment and its concern for prestige. That standard always fails to appraise correctly God’s messengers and ways.12 As Anderson puts it, the people from Nazareth want “an altogether glorious, supernatural Jesus whose credentials will be obvious to all, and refuse to believe that God discloses himself in the humanity of this one who is a member of a humble family and whose way, according to Mark’s testimony is the way of the cross.”13
We today may be no different. If Jesus were issued identity papers, his profession would list him as a carpenter, not Messiah. He is blue collar. To paraphrase a popular song from many years ago, he might ask us today, “If I were a carpenter, would you believe in me anyway?” His dress, style, and background might be off-putting to those who want a Savior more at home in high society. One preacher describes the once-over he regularly got when he was a guest speaker in affluent churches in a large American city. He writes:
… the greeters and other members did not even try to hide a head-to-toe scan of coiffure, shave, tie, shirt, suit, and shoes. I do not mean your usual, casual glance. They x-ray you. All of this is done in two seconds, but a very obvious two seconds.14
One can only imagine the reception that Jesus might receive if he showed up in his tradesman’s attire.
One might also compare an advertisement for a highly successful evangelistic team with Paul’s description about how others regarded him (1 Cor. 4:9–12). The team billed themselves as “the world’s greatest exhibition of power, strength, speed, inspiration and motivation” and noted that they had been featured in national magazines and television. By contrast, Paul was viewed as “a spectacle,” like one sentenced to death in the arena. He was judged a fool, weak, dishonored, ill-clad, buffeted, homeless, an exhausted laborer, and the dregs of all things.
All is not as it seems, however. When one evaluates people according to human criteria, Paul says that one will come up with the wrong answer (see 2 Cor. 5:16). When one looks at the messengers of the gospel from God’s perspective, one can see divine treasure in earthen vessels. They may look like cracked pots, but the cracks allow the divine light within to shine through. Then one can see that the power belongs to God (2 Cor. 4:6–12). The lesson in the story of the Ugly Duckling applies. When we judge others by appearances, we may be dead wrong. Those who evaluate Jesus by outward appearances will miss the truth about him. They are also likely to misjudge his commissioned messengers.
We should also notice that Jesus’ teaching and miracles do not automatically produce faith. The miracles are not unambiguous signs that allow for no uncertainty. “They do not convey a clear, unobstructed view of Jesus’ mission and authority.”15 In this instance, they only lead to incredulity and doubt. The lack of faith in Jesus’ home country forms a marked contrast with the faith exhibited by those in the previous scenes (5:23, 28, 34, 36). Faith preceded the miracles for the synagogue leader, Jairus, and the woman with the hemorrhage—though faith is not always a necessary prerequisite for miracles, for some occur despite unbelief (3:1–6; 4:35–41; 6:35–44).
Jesus does not demand honor and recognition. He has come to sow the word, not reap accolades. The qualms raised about Jesus’ credentials for wisdom, however, block the people in Nazareth from receiving God’s blessings through him. The text shows that doubt and suspicion can affect a whole community. It can cut off God’s power for others. In Nazareth many blind, lame, and deaf continued in their affliction because they continued in their unbelief.
Their reservations about Jesus and his failure to do any “miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them” suggest that Jesus is powerless to work miracles apart from people’s faith. The text prompts us to ask why. The people of Nazareth already knew of Jesus’ miracles (6:2) but refused to believe. Their cynicism prevented most from bringing their sick to him for healing. Only a handful did so, and he healed them. Doubt has trouble believing; unbelief obstinately refuses to believe. Mark portrays Jesus’ hometown as mired in an obstinate unbelief that deprived them of the gracious benefits of God’s reign. Those who have ever worked with suspicious and cynical people may recognize that getting such to believe comprises a miracle more marvelous than even healing those who are physically sick.
Mark tells us that his disciples accompanied him to Nazareth (6:1). Part of their task is to be with Jesus, but being with Jesus also provides opportunities for learning. They can learn from this indifferent response to Jesus’ teaching and miracles that rejection will come sometimes when and where it is least expected. Rejection is not the end of the world, however. Failure is common to the experience of anyone who sows the seeds of the gospel. Jesus is perplexed but not paralyzed by it and goes on to other villages and towns. This lesson will serve the disciples well when they are sent out on a mission on their own and meet with resistance, scorn, and doubt (6:7–13). Christian missionaries perhaps can take comfort from this episode from Jesus’ life when they too meet with skepticism.
This passage can also apply to the contemporary phenomenon where persons raised as Christians search for the answers to life’s questions by turning to other religions. One can only wonder why many Christians turn to something other than the faith of their youth for help in their lives or for meaning. Does familiarity with the stories about Jesus breed contempt? Has his story become humdrum? Have we lost our sense of awe? Does our fascination with the unfamiliar and exotic lead us to look for truth in what is new or different? We must guard against the attitude that beset the synagogue of Nazareth: “I already know him from the Bible stories of my youth. What can he teach me now?”