One of the most interesting sentences in this story happens just before halfway, after Mark describes the Nazarenes' dismissal of their former neighbor as being anything special. Apparently, had Nathanel asked them the question he asks Philip in John 1:46 -- "Can anything good come from Nazareth?" -- their answer would have been, "Nope, not really."
Because of this response, Mark tells us, Jesus "could do no deed of power there, other than he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them." I've sometimes heard this explained as Jesus refusing to do any deeds of power or miracles in Nazareth, punishing the Nazarenes for their dismissal. Of course that's possible, but the text says "could do no deed," meaning to me that Jesus was not able to do such a deed of power or miracle.
That idea surprises us, given that we know Jesus is like his Father and all-powerful. What in the world could actually prevent him from doing deeds of power?
According to one viewpoint, the Nazarenes' unbelief itself limited Jesus' ability to work miracles. Their unbelief was somehow stronger than his power. I can understand why folks might approach it that way but it seems a little more like a comic book situation than a description of the power of God. Like Superman robbed of his powers by the rays of a red sun, we see Jesus -- who almost certainly had powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal men -- robbed of his ability to work miracles.
And this way of thinking doesn't seem to hold anyplace else that Jesus encounters unbelief and does some deed of power anyway. Nobody at Lazarus' tomb thought he could do anything to help his late friend. Even the dead man's sister Martha, one of Jesus' friends, demurred at the idea of opening the tomb, suggesting it would be unpleasant -- as the King James version puts it, "Lord, by this time he stinketh." And yet Jesus called Lazarus forth from his tomb alive. Jesus' own resurrection happened in the face of unbelief. Not just from those who mocked him while he was on the cross, but from his own followers. For all of the times that he had told them he would die and be raised, for all of the metaphors he had used about the temple being destroyed and rebuilt in three days, for all of the times he had explained to them what being the Messiah meant, Easter morning still saw them hiding in the upper room instead of out among the people telling them, "Oh, get ready, he's coming! Today's the day! You all are gonna see something amazing!"
The only limits on Jesus' power come from Jesus' own choice. He could with the symbolic snap of his fingers convert each and every human being into a committed follower who would never sin again. But that would mean he had no followers who loved him, just puppets and robots who obeyed their programming, so he has limited his power. I just don't see how the unbelief of a group of Nazarenes could accomplish what no other force in the universe could manage.
As I reflect on the many places where we see Jesus heal people, which is something that he apparently was able to do in Nazareth, we see multiple methods, lessons, occasions and so on. But there is a common factor in almost all of them -- the people being healed either come to Jesus or are brought to him, or they ask for that healing. The woman with the issue of blood comes to him knowing that just touching his robe will be enough. The paralytic's friends chop a hole in a roof to lower him into Jesus' presence. The centurion sends messengers to ask for the healing of his servant. The blind beggar at Jericho calls out for the son of David to have mercy on him. The man at the pool of Bethesda finally agreed that yes, he would like to be made well. Whether on their own or with the help of friends, these people all come to Jesus.
What if Jesus only healed a few people at Nazareth because they were the only people who came to him seeking it? What if they were the only people faithful enough or desperate enough or otherwise moved to give him a shot? Why would they have been so? Why would they be the only ones who thought he might heal them?
Because everyone else already made up their minds that Jesus was nothing special and there was no point to seeking him out. They had already decided they knew everything that they needed to know about Jesus, like his family and his history among them and so forth, and there wasn't anything else to know worth knowing. Certainly nothing supernatural.
Now, you and I and other Christians of the 21st century don't know Jesus the way the first century Nazarenes did, but we can still be guilty of deciding we already know who Jesus is and thus limiting what he will do. Perhaps we key on the overwhelming love of others, the kindness and mercy Jesus shows throughout the gospels, especially for those the rest of the world seems prone to forget. But we ignore the clear promise of judgment and the call to repentance it demands. Or we hold those things up as the "real Jesus" and ignore the love, mercy and kindness. Either way we insist that Jesus is this way but not that way, so he won't do that. Turns out that often, he won't, but the limits aren't on his end, they're on ours.
And because the limits are on our end, Jesus will complete his whole work and accomplish his entire glorious purpose. He won't skip anything he intends to do or leave one bit of it out. It'll happen without us. And that doesn't sound like very good news at all.
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