Missed Miracles and Missed Opportunities
Today I read Matthew 11, and what caught my attention was the section where Jesus speaks about the cities that refused to respond to him. In verses 20–24 (NLT), he says:
““Then Jesus began to denounce the towns where he had done so many of his miracles, because they hadn’t repented of their sins and turned to God. ‘What sorrow awaits you, Chorazin and Bethsaida! For if the miracles I did in you had been done in wicked Tyre and Sidon, their people would have repented of their sins long ago… And you people of Capernaum, will you be honored in heaven? No, you will go down to the place of the dead. For if the miracles I did for you had been done in wicked Sodom, it would still be here today.’””
“Then Jesus began to denounce the towns where he had done so many of his miracles, because they hadn’t repented of their sins and turned to God. 'What sorrow awaits you, Chorazin and Bethsaida! For if the miracles I did in you had been done in wicked Tyre and Sidon, their people would have repented of their sins long ago… And you people of Capernaum, will you be honored in heaven? No, you will go down to the place of the dead. For if the miracles I did for you had been done in wicked Sodom, it would still be here today.'”
When Amazing Becomes Ordinary
This passage raises questions about responsibility. The towns Jesus mentions—Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum—had been given opportunities to witness something extraordinary. Yet, according to the text, they remained unmoved. The comparison to Tyre, Sidon, and Sodom—cities infamous in Jewish tradition for corruption—makes the lack of response even more striking. If those ancient cities would have changed course given the same evidence, what does it say about the ones who had every chance and yet stayed the same?
I find myself wondering what kind of responsibility comes with exposure to knowledge or experience. If someone sees something remarkable—whether a miracle in the biblical sense, or simply undeniable evidence in a broader sense—how much more accountable are they for how they respond? Does greater access to truth automatically demand a greater change in behavior? Or is it possible that familiarity sometimes dulls impact, so that what should be astonishing becomes ordinary with time?
Seeing Isn’t Always Changing
There’s also an interesting contrast here between external signs and internal change. The text suggests that witnessing miracles didn’t guarantee transformation. People could watch something extraordinary and still continue life unchanged. That feels familiar even outside a religious framework. Think of times when societies witness undeniable warnings—climate change, economic crises, health risks—and yet responses are slow, fragmented, or even resistant. Is there a parallel between these cities’ indifference and the ways people today overlook what’s in front of them?
Fairness, Judgment, and the Sliding Scale
Another layer of the passage is the tension between fairness and judgment. If Capernaum is held to a higher standard because of what it saw, does that mean accountability scales with opportunity? In everyday life, this seems to ring true. We often expect more from those who have more—whether it’s resources, education, or influence. But then, where is the line between fair expectation and impossible burden? At what point does responsibility become blame?
The rebuke is strong, but behind it sits a bigger question: what do we do with what we’ve been given? Whether it’s knowledge, privilege, or opportunity, how do we measure our response—or lack of one? The passage seems to leave the reader with the unsettling possibility that indifference itself carries consequences.