Six years ago, near the end of my time in seminary, I took the GOE's along with my classmates. The GOE's, or general Ordination Exams, are given to every senior class in Episcopal seminaries.

The GOE's are a thing of legend: the thought of having to take them has terrorized the faint of heart for decades.

One of my classmates, a brilliant retired Navy captain, held study sessions weekly until the exams were taken.

But then, when the results came in, she refused to look at her scores; She put the entire document, unread, in a file, and to this day may not know how she did on each question.

Another person took one look at her results, threw the pages down in the parking lot and gleefully destroyed them with her car.

At that time, there were 7 questions, six of which took 1/2 a day to finish, and one which was meant to take an entire day to answer. We knew only that it would be a question from the discipline of Biblical Studies. We didn't know whether it would be from the old or new testament. So, we got our study areas ready, pulled out the allowed source books (no commentaries) and, having been given our question, each of us opened the envelope, each in our own study space.

It turned out that the text for that day-long question was this text that we have today: Luke chapter 4. I could, I suppose, pull out the pages long answer I wrote on this scripture, and preach it today:
but I have a feeling if I did, there would be about 10 percent of the people here that might be actually interested in the answer - an answer full of greek references, Old testament nuance, pericopes, subtexts, and metaphor.

For many it would be about as interesting as a group of people who don't care much about football listening to someone wax eloquent on both the brilliance and the foolishness of Brett Favre.

In my experience, both theology and football are acquired tastes.

Today's reading is a follow-up to the Gospel from last week, in which Jesus, fresh from his rejuvenating time fasting for 40 days in the wilderness, comes to his hometown to preach.

This, his first sermon, may also have been the shortest.

He read from the prophet Isaiah, about the day the Lord would send someone to preach the gospel, feed the hungry, and heal the broken. And then he had the guts to say, "today this word is fulfilled in your hearing." That was last week -

But we must look back at those lessons if we are to understand what happened today. For after this amazing word - Jesus practically saying out loud - oh, by the way, I'm the messiah -

• The crowd looked at each other, and began to remark on the fact that these amazing words came from someone they knew.
• We can almost hear the chatter of the crowd - Why that's Joseph's son, isn't it?
• My he's turned out to be a real nice young man.
• Why I remember the day he fell out of his Uncle Irving's tree and broke both arms…" and on and on it goes….

You know the drill. It happens every time we go back home. You remember those trips to your parents house? You arrive, and suddenly, you are a kid again.

No one wants to talk about your profession, or what you do to enjoy life: it is as though you are stuck in a time warp, in which you are perpetually 17 and your parents, and their friends are reliving your worst moments.

Jesus understood this and reminded the crowd that A prophet is without honor in his own country - and isn't it true?

We have all been there. Our children don't listen to our wisdom, and neither do our parents: for the former, we are too old; for the latter too young.

In spite of the fact that Jesus knew this truth, that you can't go home again, he wasn't ready to let it go, just to walk away and say, "oh well, these people will never listen to me anyway. Might as well stop talking."

No. He had a message to get out, and decided to try to tell it, even at home. So he told stories about prophets - other well known, successful prophets who had been unable to do anything particularly fine in their own backyard - they had to go to outsiders - why they even had to go to those outside of their faith -- to be able to do the mighty works of God.

A prophet is without honor in his own hometown. Its why those who are ordained are cautioned about returning to their home parish. Who wants to listen to a young priest one used to teach in Sunday School?

Prophets, in general, are not particularly welcomed people. At least, not the ones that tell the truth in spite of the possible repercussions. No one wants to hear bad news, and these days, no one really wants to hear someone else's opinion. We have become a people for whom being right is more important than being in genuine dialogue, even though we might learn something from someone with an opposing view.

A friend of mine is on a diocesan committee, and has had to deal with a large group of people who do not share her point of view. Its too bad, because if they listened to her, it would bring balance to the group. She speaks the truth as she sees it, and has never hesitated to do so, even when the opposition in the room is palpable. She is a prophet, but who wants to listen to a layperson from a small town? Who wants to hear the opposite viewpoint of what is popular?

This friend is an icon for all of us - someone who is not afraid to speak the truth, even when it is difficult.

Even when there is very little reward in doing so.

In a way, she's a bit like Jeremiah. And like Jeremiah, she, and the rest of us, have only this promise: God's word that: he will be with us - that he will put God's words in our mouths.

God's only comfort to Jeremiah was that God would walk through the fire of diapproval with him - he never promised a five-star rating.

As much as I love to talk about God's incarnation, and his being with us through all times, when one comes up against mean opposition, or just plain disinterest, it would be nice to have something a little more tangible to back one up. But that is not what we are promised. We are promised that God will be with us - will help us speak. We aren't promised that we won't be thrown off a cliff afterward.

Whether you feel like a prophet or not, we are all called, in one way or another, to that ministry.

We are called to be lights to the nations, just as Jeremiah was - just as Jesus was.

In some ways, its easier to take that light to a different nation than our own.

But most of us are called to be those prophets that forthtell in our own neighborhoods - called to bear witness to Christ, called to speak truth with love, called to be God's unpopular prophets, who believe in who they worship strongly enough to risk being pushed off a cliff in order that the gospel might go forward, not for honor, but for God's glory.