“The whole place was filled with anger when they heard this. They got up, threw Jesus out of the city, and led him to the top of the hill on which it was built in order to throw him off of it. But, somehow, he managed to slip through the midst of them and went on his way” (Luke 4.28-30).
The movie Fletch was released in the summer of 1985. An adaptation of the Gregory McDonald novel, it starred Chevy Chase as LA Times investigative reporter Irwin M. Fletcher who, while researching a story about drug trafficking on the city’s beaches is approached by a wealthy and, supposedly, ill man who wants Fletch to murder him.
It original tagline was that our hero was the only person who changes his identity more than his underwear. That aspect—Fletch’s use of disguise and of giving those he encounters false names—is what drew me to seeing it on my twelfth birthday. What’s made it memorable, and brought me to rewatching it again and again in the nearly forty years since it was released is Chase’s quick-witted, rule-challenging, and one-step-ahead portrayal of the character.
Fletch’s investigation into this wealthy stranger who wants to be murdered to spare himself a painful death by bone cancer gets him shot at, chased by police, and…involved with the wealthy man’s wife. In contrast to the more muscular and violent heroes of the eighties, Fletch has nothing but his wits to help him slip through the midst of those out to do him harm.
It seems like a far cry from the episode of Jesus’ visit to Nazareth and the city’s reaction. But, there’s something similar in these two figures, which seems to drive those around them to take a strong dislike to them. Something disruptive that sets people on edge.
In many cultures, there is the figure known as the Trickster. In Native American religion they’re called Coyote. The Norse called them Loki. In West Africa, they were called Anansi. While different, they played a similar role: to disrupt lives, particularly of those in authority, through deception, rule-breaking, and humor. And, often, they came in disguise.
Fletch is such a figure. His actions through his investigations disrupt those in authority (and bystanders). He comes dressed in other identities with different voices, and leaves the world quite different in his wake.
Jesus’ life on earth was in disguise—the Creator of the Stars walked around as though he were an unimportant human from the suburbs. He said and did all sorts of things that upset people in authority. And, in today’s passage, escaped death through his wits alone.
It’s no wonder Jesus told us that we’d need to be as wise a serpents on the journey. We’re called to follow his lead, which means making those in power and authority uncomfortable sometimes. And while we might not be chased by the Los Angeles police like Fletch or apprehended by an angry crowd like Jesus, we may find ourselves the target of other’s discomfort.
Jesus, though, promised we’d know what to say. And while it might not be as smart-aleck as Fletch’s retorts, Jesus had quite a knack for words. It might not save us in every situation, but bit by bit we might just help change the world.
Jesus, Divine Trickster, you challenged the world with your presence, your words, and your actions. Over the warming days of summer, help us dare to live, to speak, and live in love to the disruption of the world that needs it.