Jesus returns to Nazareth, his hometown, no longer the boy they once knew but the one through whom God’s Kingdom is breaking into the world. And yet, the people cannot see beyond the surface. They are blind to the sacred in the familiar. Instead of awe, they take offence. Instead of faith, they respond with scepticism.

This Gospel stirs something deep. It reveals a truth we all wrestle with; the difficulty of recognising God in the ordinary. We often expect the divine to come dramatically in mystery, majesty, or power. But here, God stands before them in the flesh, and His very humanity becomes a stumbling block. ‘Is not this the carpenter’s son?’ they ask, unable to reconcile the holiness of God with the village boy.

We, too, risk missing Christ in everyday moments—in the face of a weary neighbour, in the quiet routines of work or family, in the small acts of kindness, in the silence of prayer, or in the Eucharist. God is not distant. God is near and often clothed in ordinariness.

And yet, the mystery of God is always love, and love never forces its way. Jesus does not perform many miracles there, not because His power is limited, but because love waits to be received. God respects our freedom so deeply that God will never enter where hearts are closed. ‘He did not do many deeds of power there, because of their unbelief.” (Matthew 13:58)

This Gospel challenges us: do we make space for God in the familiar? Are we open to the sacred in the ordinary?

Lord, open our eyes to see You not just in the extraordinary, but in the everyday. Increase our faith, so that we might welcome You, humbly, simply, and with wonder. Amen.

By Lisa McKerr