John 2:12-22
First Sunday in Lent
Today is the first Sunday in Lent, that season of self-reflection, reconciliation, and discipleship leading up to that glorious day of resurrection, Easter Sunday. At first glance, this Scripture seems like an odd way for us to begin Lent, with it’s portrayal of an angry Jesus, of the Temple, of moneychangers, people turning the sacred into financial profit. But I think, if we delve just a little bit deeper, we can discover that this lesson from John offers much in the way of Lenten preparation, for this is the season of the church when we are called to turn over our own tables, to drive out those things that make us less than the people God has made us to be, so that we may live as the loved children of God. Let us pray:
Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of these your faithful, and kindle within us the fire of your love. May our words and our hearts together glorify you, O God, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
When I was a young child, probably 5 or 6, I just loved that wonderful children’s book series called The Berestain Bears. Authors Stan and Jan Berenstain wrote these stories for young children, featuring Mama and Papa Berenstain Bear and little Brother Bear and Sister Bear. These stories are meant to deal with all those difficult life issues that young children encounter, like a bad dream, getting into trouble at school, interacting with strangers, and going to the dentist.
My mother’s favorite story to read to me was "The Berenstain Bears and the Messy Room." She read it so often, that, looking back now, I realize she was trying to send me a message. The story is a lesson about clean rooms and tidiness. The introduction warns:
"When small bears forget to pick up, store and stash,
Some of their favorite things end up in the trash."
The crisis in the story comes when Mama Bear gets fed up with the mess in Brother and Sister's room. It goes this way:
"Well, the mess just seemed to build up and build up until one day... maybe it was because Mama's back was a little stiff, or maybe it was stepping on Brother's airplane cement, or maybe she was just fed up with that messy room, but whatever it was... Mama Bear lost her temper!
She stormed into the cub's room with a big box. 'The first thing we need to do is get rid of all this junk!' she said. Brother and Sister were watching in horror as Mama began to throw things into the box."
I think my mother must have been friends with Mama Bear!
It's like that sometimes with our lives, isn't it? Things pile up until it is just too much to take and we just have to clean up the mess. A messy relationship, a messy job, a messy spiritual life- the time comes when we just want the mess cleaned up. Things accumulate, stuff piles up, and before we know it, parts of our lives bear little resemblance to the way they used to look, and we find that we are and those around us have suffered from the messiness. Sometimes the messiness is so overwhelming that even God’s presence and goodness seems a distant memory.
Today’s Gospel story from John is all about a mess - a mess so entrenched, so overwhelming, only radical housecleaning can correct the situation. After Jesus’ miracle of turning water into wine at the joyous wedding in Cana, Jesus makes his way to Capernaum, perhaps for some rest and relaxation with his family and friends. As the high holy days of the Passover drew closer, Jesus made his way to Jerusalem, the place all observant Jews would have travelled for this celebration. According to the Jewish historian Josephus, construction on the temple in Jerusalem began in 20 BCE under Herod the Great, and was completed by Herod Agrippa around of the common era. A bustling nexus of commercial activity, crowds of worshippers, nationalist aspirations, political identity, historical memory, architectural splendor, and of religious affiliation, the temple constituted the essence of Jewish faith in both a literal and symbolic manner. The temple represented God's presence, God’s availability to all, God’s love made available to God’s people.
Yet something happened to this good place, something happened to turn it into a place where it became difficult to hear God and experience God’s goodness. You see, the temple was a place where, in accordance with the law of God given in Leviticus, people offered sacrifices. Sacrifice was inherent to the Jewish faith; it was a way that the people remembered who they were in relation to God; it was a way to be reminded of the covenant God made with Abraham. The law of Moses stated what kinds of sacrifices should be made at the temple, and the majority of those sacrifices required the offering of an animal. Parts of the flesh of the animals sacrificed would be offered wholly to God, other parts would be given to the priests to support them and to provide resources for the poor and needy of the community.
Often religious duty required that the observant Jew bring a young male sheep, or a kid goat, or a pair of pigeons to the temple, where it would then be sacrificed by the priests on behalf of the person or persons. In the old rural days this had been fairly easy to do - people had sheep or goats or pigeons right at home. But in Jesus' day, as in ours, urban people didn't keep those kind of animals hanging around the apartment. So when someone went to the Temple to make sacrifice, the Temple authorities made it more convenient by having sacrificial animals for sale right there on the premises -- the only catch being that one had to use temple coins to make the purchase.
If someone didn't have temple currency available to make the purchase, the Temple authorities provided a service, a precursor to the ATM machine. People were set up in the outer courtyard, available to convert Roman money into Temple money right there on the spot. Take one look at the money markets in today's world and it doesn't take much imagination to visualize what ended up happening in the temple courtyard at the time of Jesus. There was commotion, lots of shouting, bargaining, exchanging, converting - perhaps the only difference being these brokers wore togas and sandals instead of suits and oxfords.
John tells us that Jesus walked into this environment, this up-to-date full-service Temple, saw the people selling the cattle and the sheep and the birds. He saw the money-changers at their counters with their constantly changing rates of exchange. He heard the noise, the shouting, the bargaining, the bragging, the bleating and the cooing, and he smelled the sweet sweat and earthy dung of the nervous animals.
He saw and heard and smelled all these things that were there for the sake
of the salvation of God's people, and he became tremendously angry!
And just like Mama Bear in the story “The Berenstein Bears and the Messy Room,” Jesus indignantly shouted, “We’ve got to get rid of all this junk!” In a rush of righteous anger, Jesus took out a cord, perhaps the belt cinched around his waist, fashions it into a whip, and went to work. The whip cracked; tables were hurled over, scattering coins that clattered and clanged on the ground. Money changers threw up their arms to shield themselves as confused doves flapped and flew from their smashed cages. Others jumped aside to avoid the stampedes of startled oxen and scared sheep, and strained, over the chaotic uproar, to hear Jesus’ indictment of the corrupt merchants, the Temple, economics, church and state.
And we, much like those first-century witnesses of Jesus’ wrath toward these entrepreneurs, ask: What’s the big deal? Why was so corrupt about that?
Nothing - at first. But, over time, with all the buying and selling and money changing, the temple had become corrupt. Instead of contributing to the worship and reverence of God, it missed the point. The idea of money changing began with good intentions -- instead of using Roman money, which was considered pagan, to buy offerings, those observant pilgrims would exchange their worldly money for temple money. The system was put there to help people who came to the temple to observe their faith and make the requisite sacrifices. The problem was, the system was a setup for corruption. The price of a pair of turtle doves jacked up a little here. The exchange of money tilted a little in favor of the money changer there. Someone would shave a little money off the top here and there and plunk it in his pocket. Soon the thing that was supposed to facilitate the worship and reverence of God was turned into something that cheated people and made it more difficult, especially for the poor, to participate in the life of faith.
In 1 Corinthians, St. Paul says “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you …? We are the temple of God in the world today. And this is where Jesus’ cleansing the temple becomes relevant for us today, as we consider the many ways we have accumulated stuff that should be driven out. Perhaps it was a good word left unsaid, a hand of peace and forgiveness that wasn’t extended. Maybe it was not standing up for the oppressed or the marginalized because it would have been inconvenient. Perhaps we, too, like the money changes, have participated in ways that further disenfranchise the poor and make it difficult for others to freely worship the God who loves us all. All of these things done or left undone, said or not uttered, build up inside of us, and slowly corrupt the temple.
Indeed, it is a subtle process, this turning the temple into a marketplace. Like the houses we live in – a little dust and dirt build up on the baseboards and in the hard-to-reach nooks and crannies of each room; lint balls accumulate under the beds; mildew forms in the shower stall and around the tub; coffee stains appear on the carpet; cobwebs hang from the ceiling – it all happens so slowly that we hardly notice, until, one day, like Mama Bear, we just can’t take it anymore, and we realize it’s time to grab a big box and put our houses back in order.
My friends, Lent is a time of introspection, of looking within and taking stock of the accumulation that keeps us from being our best selves, for each other and for God, of purging those things that keep us from striving for justice, peace and equality for all of God’s children. It’s a time for cleansing the temple and making our lives – mind, body and soul – ready to do God’s work, to bring the kingdom here on earth, so that each and every person knows that they matter and that God loves them. May you find the courage this Lent to clean up the messiness in your life, in whatever form you find it. May you turn over your own tables, and be not afraid, for the resurrected Christ is with you always, and nothing can separate you from the Love of God. Amen.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Sermon given at Calvary Presbyterian Church, 1/15/12.
John 1:43-51
If todayʼs Gospel lesson teaches us anything, it is that the Gospel of
Jesus Christ is a message for cynics. Nathanielʼs question, offered with
incredulity and a healthy dose of skepticism, persists, and wonʼt let us go.
“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Perhaps we can identify with
Nathanielʼs cynicism; I know I can. I, too, have asked my own version of the
same question. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Of church? Of
faith?” Thankfully, it doesnʼt have to end there. The invitation to “come and
see” and to be astonished beyond our wildest dreams, to be greeted with
hope that shatters our preconceived notions and lies outside our carefully
placed boundaries, is extended to each and every one of us. Cynicism can
be transformed into faith. THAT, my friends, is VERY good news.
Let us pray:
Come, Holy Spirit; fill the hearts of these your faithful, and kindle
within us the fire of your love. May our words and our hearts together
glorify you, O God, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
I have a friend who is an incessant email forwarder. Often they are
pithy jokes or a humorous picture of something quite silly. Recently,
however, I received this forward, called “Cynical Wisdom.” It contained
tidbits of sardonic one-liners, like:
Change is inevitable ... except from vending machines.
• For every action, there is an equal and opposite criticism.
• He who hesitates is probably right.
• No one is listening until you make a mistake.
• Two wrongs are only the beginning.
• Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7th of your life.
• A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
• Bills travel through the mail at twice the speed of checks.
• 72.9 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.
• If at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.
Funny, arenʼt they? Maybe some of you have thought or uttered these
same things; perhaps some of you have even read and forwarded this
email. Yet, if we are honest with ourselves, we might find this cynical streak
runs a little deeper than just a funny email. Cynicism seems, at times, to
define life in the United States in 2012, and, proving cynicism is as old as
time itself, it also seems to define one of todayʼs characters, Nathaniel —at
least for a time.
This passage from John comes in the middle of Jesus gathering his
disciples. The two fishermen brothers, Andrew and Simon Peter, have
already joined with Jesusʼ motley crew of followers. Then Jesus decides to
go to Galilee, and invites Phillip to join the ranks. We donʼt know exactly
how Phillip responded, but gathering from the rest of the story, and given
that from this time forward, Phillip is included among the 12 disciples, we
can infer that he, too, decided to follow Jesus. Phillip is so elated after his
encounter with this man from Nazareth, that he finds his friend Nathaniel
and, barely able to contain his excitement, exclaims, “weʼve found him! Itʼs
Jesus of Nazareth!”
And Nathaniel cocks his eyebrow and questions, perhaps rhetorically: “Can
anything good come out of Nazareth?”
I did some reading about Nazareth. It didnʼt take long, because we donʼt
know much at all about Nazareth in Jesusʼ day. Nazareth is barely, if ever,
mentioned in first century documents outside of Scripture. The little we do
know is largely speculative and wholly unremarkable. What we do know is
that Nazareth was a small community of anywhere between 500 and 2000
people. Nazareth was likely located not far from a major East-West trade
route that ran from Egypt to Asia called the Via Maris: picture it as one of
those tiny towns along rural stretches of I-95. Nazareth was situated in the
hill country of Galilee, a region of fishing and farming that was also known
in Scripture for its distinctive regional accent and for having a large
population of Gentiles, a high number of immigrants, foreigners, resident
aliens. In other words, it was a place where some Jewish sects, intent on
keeping customs and purity laws, would probably have rarely, if ever,
ventured, and would certainly have been thankful that they werenʼt born
there. Perhaps you are beginning to see the scandal in Jesus, the Messiah,
the one about whom Moses and the prophets wrote, coming from such a
place.
Archaeological evidence also shows that Nazareth may have sat somewhat
in the shadow of the nearby city of Sepphoris, which was being rebuilt as a
regional capital around the time of Jesus. Sepphoris was the place where
the action was. Sepphoris was the place with the Roman theater and all the
cultural and social attractions one could desire. Sepphoris was the place
where the young people went off to work and find jobs. Sepphoris was the
place where stuff happened. Nazareth, on the other hand, was the place
where nothing happened. One study bible calls Nazareth “an insignificant
agricultural village.” It had nothing to set it apart, nothing to literally, place it
on the map. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” becomes a
reasonable reaction to hearing that THIS was where Jewish Messiah, the
harbinger of Godʼs kingdom, came from.
But, I think thereʼs a little more going on here than just Nazarethʼs
reputation. Surely that has a part to play, but there is something about
Nathanielʼs cynicism that feels so personal. You see, I believe Nathaniel
was passionate about Israel. The Israelitesʼ deep longing for meaning and
worth came from their national identity as the people of God, as Godʼs
covenant people. Nathaniel, as a good Israelite, longed for God to redeem
Israel. He was familiar with the Jewish belief that God would send a
Messiah to Israel to usher in an era of peace. Like so many Israelites, he
bound up his sense of purpose and worth with his people. And yet he
suffered only disappointment. The Maccabean revolt a century and a half
before had failed to establish Israelʼs prominence. Prophets and preachers
wandered throughout Israel proclaiming that the messiah was coming, yet
Israel still suffered Roman oppression. It is little wonder, then, that
Nathaniel is cynical. Wouldnʼt you be, too, if everything you had ever hoped
for, if everything you staked your very life on, seemed to be so close, and
yet so far away?
“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Phillip, perhaps ready for this
question, knows that nothing he can say will assuage Nathanielʼs disbelief.
All Phillip can do is to invite Nathaniel to “Come and See,” to invite
Nathaniel to have the same experience Phillip had. So Nathaniel goes,
perhaps begrudgingly, perhaps willingly, but definitely skeptically. Nathaniel
couldnʼt have expected what comes next. Seeing him coming towards him,
Jesus calls to him, saying "Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no
deceit!" In other words: “Hey, Nathaniel! I know you! Youʼre a pretty decent
guy!” It doesn't appear to be tongue in cheek. It seems like a
straightforward description based on his knowledge of Nathanael.
Nathanael is flabbergasted. Did this guy from Nazareth really say that?
Nathaniel, feeling not a little shocked, stammers: "I don't believe we've met.
Where did you get to know me?”
“I saw you under the fig tree before Phillip called you.” By this simple
sentence, Jesus reveals just how much he knows about Nathaniel. Jesus
knows that Nathaniel is educated, that he is religious, that he has a keen
understanding of the promise of the Messiah. In those days, “under the fig
tree” meant that you were praying and reading the Scriptures. The teachers
of the day said that every man should “study the law under their own fig
tree.” The fig tree was literally a place for study and prayer, especially for
young rabbinic students, which Nathanael may well have been.
In an instant, all of Nathanielʼs preconceived ideas about Nazareth, all the
ways he thought Godʼs promises of hope and peace SHOULD look were
unraveled and upended. Nathaniel discovers that, Yes! Something good
DID come out of Nazareth. Jesus came out of Nazareth. It was in Nazareth
that Jesus was raised. It was in Nazareth that he likely attended synagogue
and recited Torah and learned the words of Scripture. It was in Nazareth
that Scripture says Jesus “increased in wisdom and in stature and in divine
and human favor.” And all the rest of his life, Jesus would carry the name of
his home community with him: on the lips of crowds, demons, and angels,
he would be called, Jesus of Nazareth.
In a flash, Nathanielʼs cynicism is turned into faith, his doubt into faith.
“Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” To which Jesus
replies: “Listen, if you think THAT was cool, you just wait.” Nathaniel
accepted the invitation to “Come and See,” and he would never be the
same again.
Victor Hugoʼs classic novel Les Miserables focuses on Jean Valjean and
his experience of redemption. Valjean, a hardened convict who has just
been released from prison, cannot find work. Everywhere he goes, he must
present papers telling of his crimes, and people turn him away. In
desperation, he jumps parole and destroys his papers – a crime that would
send him back to prison for life. While on the run, he finds shelter at the
house of a priest. That night, while the priest is asleep, Jean Valjean steals
the only objects of worth in the house: the silverware and silver
candlesticks. Valjean is stopped by the police for violating curfew, and they find the stolen goods. When the police take him back to the priestʼs house, the priest, awakened by the
guards, says that he has given the candlesticks as a gift. He sends the
police on their way. Then he turns to Valjean, saying that he has spared
Valjean in the name of Christ. He gives Valjean the candlesticks and the
silverware, and charges him to become an honest man. All that day,
Valjean wrestles in inner turmoil. He is shocked and confounded by what
the priest has done. He debates on whether he should kill him or if he
should just run with the money. But somewhere in the midst of this turmoil
of anger and confusion, God enters the picture and breaks Valjeanʼs heart.
In response, Valjean dedicates himself to the pursuit of goodness. For the
rest of the book, Valjean tries to live a just and noble life as mayor while the
merciless inspector Javert hunts for him, convinced that redemption is a
myth, that people can never change.
We live in a world that is full of Javerts, of people who believe that the
Valjeans and the Nathaniels can never really change, can never have a
moment when their cynicism is transformed into faith. Peruse any
newspaper, watch the news on TV, or listen to conversations in the grocery
store. Murder, war, corruption, violence, greed, and selfishness attack us
from every angle. It seems that the message of hope that humankind is
inherently good, that Godʼs Kingdom of peace and justice will come on
earth, that faith in Jesus of Nazareth really has something to offer the world
becomes less and less relevant, or even believable. Even those of us who
profess faith arenʼt immune to this cynicism. We get cynical about our lives,
our families, our churches, our faith, and sometimes for good reason. We
get cynical about the good news that a better day is coming, as Martin
Luther King Jr so eloquently said, a “day when all of God's children, black
and white, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join
hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last! Free at
last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!' It seems so unattainable and
unfeasible, and we are left to wonder: “can anything good come out of any
of this? “Can anything good come out of our own Nazareth?” “Can anything
good come out of the Gospel message?” “Can anything good come out of
Calvary Presbyterian Church?”
And do you remember what Philip said? “Come and see.”
Friends, some twenty centuries ago, a man named Phillip said to his friend
Nathanael, “I have found someone you should know. Come and see for
yourself.” Phillipʼs invitation inched Nathaniel past his cynicism into a lifechanging
experience of faith. Each one of us is called to be Phillip, to invite
the world to come and see, to experience the good that can come out of
Nazareth. The task is not easy, and the cynicism that seems so ubiquitous
is relentless, even to those of us who have heard the gospel call. But this
church, and each one of us, has a message of hope to give to a world that
so desperately needs good news. May each one of us have the boldness to
say: “Come and see.” Amen.
If todayʼs Gospel lesson teaches us anything, it is that the Gospel of
Jesus Christ is a message for cynics. Nathanielʼs question, offered with
incredulity and a healthy dose of skepticism, persists, and wonʼt let us go.
“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Perhaps we can identify with
Nathanielʼs cynicism; I know I can. I, too, have asked my own version of the
same question. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Of church? Of
faith?” Thankfully, it doesnʼt have to end there. The invitation to “come and
see” and to be astonished beyond our wildest dreams, to be greeted with
hope that shatters our preconceived notions and lies outside our carefully
placed boundaries, is extended to each and every one of us. Cynicism can
be transformed into faith. THAT, my friends, is VERY good news.
Let us pray:
Come, Holy Spirit; fill the hearts of these your faithful, and kindle
within us the fire of your love. May our words and our hearts together
glorify you, O God, our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.
I have a friend who is an incessant email forwarder. Often they are
pithy jokes or a humorous picture of something quite silly. Recently,
however, I received this forward, called “Cynical Wisdom.” It contained
tidbits of sardonic one-liners, like:
Change is inevitable ... except from vending machines.
• For every action, there is an equal and opposite criticism.
• He who hesitates is probably right.
• No one is listening until you make a mistake.
• Two wrongs are only the beginning.
• Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7th of your life.
• A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.
• Bills travel through the mail at twice the speed of checks.
• 72.9 percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.
• If at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.
Funny, arenʼt they? Maybe some of you have thought or uttered these
same things; perhaps some of you have even read and forwarded this
email. Yet, if we are honest with ourselves, we might find this cynical streak
runs a little deeper than just a funny email. Cynicism seems, at times, to
define life in the United States in 2012, and, proving cynicism is as old as
time itself, it also seems to define one of todayʼs characters, Nathaniel —at
least for a time.
This passage from John comes in the middle of Jesus gathering his
disciples. The two fishermen brothers, Andrew and Simon Peter, have
already joined with Jesusʼ motley crew of followers. Then Jesus decides to
go to Galilee, and invites Phillip to join the ranks. We donʼt know exactly
how Phillip responded, but gathering from the rest of the story, and given
that from this time forward, Phillip is included among the 12 disciples, we
can infer that he, too, decided to follow Jesus. Phillip is so elated after his
encounter with this man from Nazareth, that he finds his friend Nathaniel
and, barely able to contain his excitement, exclaims, “weʼve found him! Itʼs
Jesus of Nazareth!”
And Nathaniel cocks his eyebrow and questions, perhaps rhetorically: “Can
anything good come out of Nazareth?”
I did some reading about Nazareth. It didnʼt take long, because we donʼt
know much at all about Nazareth in Jesusʼ day. Nazareth is barely, if ever,
mentioned in first century documents outside of Scripture. The little we do
know is largely speculative and wholly unremarkable. What we do know is
that Nazareth was a small community of anywhere between 500 and 2000
people. Nazareth was likely located not far from a major East-West trade
route that ran from Egypt to Asia called the Via Maris: picture it as one of
those tiny towns along rural stretches of I-95. Nazareth was situated in the
hill country of Galilee, a region of fishing and farming that was also known
in Scripture for its distinctive regional accent and for having a large
population of Gentiles, a high number of immigrants, foreigners, resident
aliens. In other words, it was a place where some Jewish sects, intent on
keeping customs and purity laws, would probably have rarely, if ever,
ventured, and would certainly have been thankful that they werenʼt born
there. Perhaps you are beginning to see the scandal in Jesus, the Messiah,
the one about whom Moses and the prophets wrote, coming from such a
place.
Archaeological evidence also shows that Nazareth may have sat somewhat
in the shadow of the nearby city of Sepphoris, which was being rebuilt as a
regional capital around the time of Jesus. Sepphoris was the place where
the action was. Sepphoris was the place with the Roman theater and all the
cultural and social attractions one could desire. Sepphoris was the place
where the young people went off to work and find jobs. Sepphoris was the
place where stuff happened. Nazareth, on the other hand, was the place
where nothing happened. One study bible calls Nazareth “an insignificant
agricultural village.” It had nothing to set it apart, nothing to literally, place it
on the map. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” becomes a
reasonable reaction to hearing that THIS was where Jewish Messiah, the
harbinger of Godʼs kingdom, came from.
But, I think thereʼs a little more going on here than just Nazarethʼs
reputation. Surely that has a part to play, but there is something about
Nathanielʼs cynicism that feels so personal. You see, I believe Nathaniel
was passionate about Israel. The Israelitesʼ deep longing for meaning and
worth came from their national identity as the people of God, as Godʼs
covenant people. Nathaniel, as a good Israelite, longed for God to redeem
Israel. He was familiar with the Jewish belief that God would send a
Messiah to Israel to usher in an era of peace. Like so many Israelites, he
bound up his sense of purpose and worth with his people. And yet he
suffered only disappointment. The Maccabean revolt a century and a half
before had failed to establish Israelʼs prominence. Prophets and preachers
wandered throughout Israel proclaiming that the messiah was coming, yet
Israel still suffered Roman oppression. It is little wonder, then, that
Nathaniel is cynical. Wouldnʼt you be, too, if everything you had ever hoped
for, if everything you staked your very life on, seemed to be so close, and
yet so far away?
“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Phillip, perhaps ready for this
question, knows that nothing he can say will assuage Nathanielʼs disbelief.
All Phillip can do is to invite Nathaniel to “Come and See,” to invite
Nathaniel to have the same experience Phillip had. So Nathaniel goes,
perhaps begrudgingly, perhaps willingly, but definitely skeptically. Nathaniel
couldnʼt have expected what comes next. Seeing him coming towards him,
Jesus calls to him, saying "Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no
deceit!" In other words: “Hey, Nathaniel! I know you! Youʼre a pretty decent
guy!” It doesn't appear to be tongue in cheek. It seems like a
straightforward description based on his knowledge of Nathanael.
Nathanael is flabbergasted. Did this guy from Nazareth really say that?
Nathaniel, feeling not a little shocked, stammers: "I don't believe we've met.
Where did you get to know me?”
“I saw you under the fig tree before Phillip called you.” By this simple
sentence, Jesus reveals just how much he knows about Nathaniel. Jesus
knows that Nathaniel is educated, that he is religious, that he has a keen
understanding of the promise of the Messiah. In those days, “under the fig
tree” meant that you were praying and reading the Scriptures. The teachers
of the day said that every man should “study the law under their own fig
tree.” The fig tree was literally a place for study and prayer, especially for
young rabbinic students, which Nathanael may well have been.
In an instant, all of Nathanielʼs preconceived ideas about Nazareth, all the
ways he thought Godʼs promises of hope and peace SHOULD look were
unraveled and upended. Nathaniel discovers that, Yes! Something good
DID come out of Nazareth. Jesus came out of Nazareth. It was in Nazareth
that Jesus was raised. It was in Nazareth that he likely attended synagogue
and recited Torah and learned the words of Scripture. It was in Nazareth
that Scripture says Jesus “increased in wisdom and in stature and in divine
and human favor.” And all the rest of his life, Jesus would carry the name of
his home community with him: on the lips of crowds, demons, and angels,
he would be called, Jesus of Nazareth.
In a flash, Nathanielʼs cynicism is turned into faith, his doubt into faith.
“Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” To which Jesus
replies: “Listen, if you think THAT was cool, you just wait.” Nathaniel
accepted the invitation to “Come and See,” and he would never be the
same again.
Victor Hugoʼs classic novel Les Miserables focuses on Jean Valjean and
his experience of redemption. Valjean, a hardened convict who has just
been released from prison, cannot find work. Everywhere he goes, he must
present papers telling of his crimes, and people turn him away. In
desperation, he jumps parole and destroys his papers – a crime that would
send him back to prison for life. While on the run, he finds shelter at the
house of a priest. That night, while the priest is asleep, Jean Valjean steals
the only objects of worth in the house: the silverware and silver
candlesticks. Valjean is stopped by the police for violating curfew, and they find the stolen goods. When the police take him back to the priestʼs house, the priest, awakened by the
guards, says that he has given the candlesticks as a gift. He sends the
police on their way. Then he turns to Valjean, saying that he has spared
Valjean in the name of Christ. He gives Valjean the candlesticks and the
silverware, and charges him to become an honest man. All that day,
Valjean wrestles in inner turmoil. He is shocked and confounded by what
the priest has done. He debates on whether he should kill him or if he
should just run with the money. But somewhere in the midst of this turmoil
of anger and confusion, God enters the picture and breaks Valjeanʼs heart.
In response, Valjean dedicates himself to the pursuit of goodness. For the
rest of the book, Valjean tries to live a just and noble life as mayor while the
merciless inspector Javert hunts for him, convinced that redemption is a
myth, that people can never change.
We live in a world that is full of Javerts, of people who believe that the
Valjeans and the Nathaniels can never really change, can never have a
moment when their cynicism is transformed into faith. Peruse any
newspaper, watch the news on TV, or listen to conversations in the grocery
store. Murder, war, corruption, violence, greed, and selfishness attack us
from every angle. It seems that the message of hope that humankind is
inherently good, that Godʼs Kingdom of peace and justice will come on
earth, that faith in Jesus of Nazareth really has something to offer the world
becomes less and less relevant, or even believable. Even those of us who
profess faith arenʼt immune to this cynicism. We get cynical about our lives,
our families, our churches, our faith, and sometimes for good reason. We
get cynical about the good news that a better day is coming, as Martin
Luther King Jr so eloquently said, a “day when all of God's children, black
and white, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join
hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, 'Free at last! Free at
last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!' It seems so unattainable and
unfeasible, and we are left to wonder: “can anything good come out of any
of this? “Can anything good come out of our own Nazareth?” “Can anything
good come out of the Gospel message?” “Can anything good come out of
Calvary Presbyterian Church?”
And do you remember what Philip said? “Come and see.”
Friends, some twenty centuries ago, a man named Phillip said to his friend
Nathanael, “I have found someone you should know. Come and see for
yourself.” Phillipʼs invitation inched Nathaniel past his cynicism into a lifechanging
experience of faith. Each one of us is called to be Phillip, to invite
the world to come and see, to experience the good that can come out of
Nazareth. The task is not easy, and the cynicism that seems so ubiquitous
is relentless, even to those of us who have heard the gospel call. But this
church, and each one of us, has a message of hope to give to a world that
so desperately needs good news. May each one of us have the boldness to
say: “Come and see.” Amen.
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