Face to Face with Jesus

"Sir, we wish to see Jesus" (John 12:21).

Me too.

In John's gospel, Jesus has become so popular that everyone wants to see him. Even some Greeks who happen to be in town for a festival want to see him.  They've heard the stories, now they want to see the real thing.  In the flesh.  Person to person. Face to face.

Well don't we all.

Just before these Greeks come along, it certainly seems like everyone wants to see Jesus.  "Look, the whole world has gone after him," the pharisees wonder, just before these Greeks step forward (John 12: 19).  It must certainly have seemed like it.

Some people think these Greeks represent the Gentiles who will also turn to Jesus.  Of course, since they're in town for the festival, it's just as likely that they're Jews from Greece.  They could also, just as easily, be tourists who happen to be in the right place at the right time. You can just hear them, can't you?   "Oh, look, there's that Jesus everyone's talking about.  Let's go see."  They could be anyone from anywhere.

Isn't that really the point?  Jesus is for everyone.  Jesus is visible, right there on the street.  Jesus is real.

Still is.

We talk a lot in church about "seeing Christ in friend and stranger."  We try to remind people to be Christ-like in their living and encourage people to follow the example of Jesus with action, not just talk.

But in the end, that's still just talk.  We could look back and see that all that preaching has often been just talk, but we could also see it today in those whose claims to be a Christian don’t match their behaviour. To follow Jesus means to do Jesus, to live Jesus, to do the best are able to live out the nature of God that is in us.

So we try to do better than talk.  We point at the stories of Jesus and say "look, just like that - Jesus doesn't just talk, Jesus lives what he preaches about.  See?"  And wouldn't it be great if we could point at the real thing, as it's happening, and say "look - that's what Jesus is talking about.  Right there."  Then we'd be, literally, face to face with Jesus.

I’ve talked about this before. A lot, even, and I think - I hope - that many people do. And there’s been more than talk, we’ve tried to engage it practically, whenever we can but also with some special events to highlight it. Like a few years ago, our church did a “Faces of Jesus” project where we invited people to bring in 10” x 10” pictures of how they saw Jesus in the world, people they know, historical figures, art, events and we created a wall of “what does Jesus look like to you?” to inspire us. For three years now, we’ve promoted Angels Among Us in November, a time in which we encourage people to see and do random acts of kindness, to be like “angels.” Or Jesus.

There are more, and many people are being just as proactive and engaging. Look around you. This week, though, I’m reminded about the specific context of that “Sir, we wish to see Jesus” verse and what happens next.

In John’s gospel, this isn’t a moment for Jesus to say “come and see, then” like he did to the first disciples to follow him (John 1:39). This is the moment at which Jesus knows his ministry is done and the next part of his journey is to death.

So, do look around you for Jesus. See Jesus in the kind, loving and compassionate. See Jesus in the strong and those with much to share. But take a hard look around and see Jesus also in those who struggle. See Jesus in those who risk and give all that they have just to be alive. See Jesus in those who grieve. The journey to wholeness, to the new life that Jesus brings, includes all these things. 

Who's a Who?

The story goes something like this. Jesus takes Peter, James and John up to the top of a mountain where he appears to be transfigured. Mark’s gospel describes that “his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them.” We might say he glowed or was illuminated. Then Elijah and Moses appeared, talking to Jesus.  The disciples are suitably terrified and a voice is heard from a cloud saying “this is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him.”  On the way back down the mountain, Jesus tells them not to say anything about this until after he has risen from the dead.

Cool story with some great special effects and dazzling imagery.  Anyone’s takeaway from it might be that clearly Jesus is something special, something divine, someone to whom we should listen, as the voice commands.

But hang on a minute. Do not stare directly at the light. Look at where it’s shining.  See who’s really illuminated?

Here’s another story.  So there’s the Grinch, all dressed like Santa Claus. He wants to stop Christmas from coming so he’s taken all the Christmas decorations and gifts and delicious treats from Whoville, loaded them on a sleigh and dragged them to the top of Mount Crumpit. Well, Max, the dog, did most of the dragging.

The Grinch stands there with poor Max, waiting for the Whos to discover Christmas is gone, waiting, so that he can hear all the Whos down in Whoville cry boo-hoo. But what he hears isn’t that at all, it’s the Whos singing, welcoming Christmas. It didn’t sound sad, but glad. And he realizes that maybe Christmas is more than all that stuff he took, maybe it’s something much more.

“And what happened then? Well, in Whoville they say that the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day! And then the true meaning of Christmas came through, and the Grinch found the strength of ten Grinches, plus two!” He brings everything back and celebrates with the Whos, even carving the roast beast. He lives into his new found enthusiasm for life.

Remember the classic Christmas cartoon version of that? How, when the Whos are singing, all holding hands in a circle, a radiant light seems to rise from them?

You know who’s who, right? The Whos are Jesus. You know what that makes us.

And why not? Like the disciples, we may not be green and grinchy - most of us, anyway - but there is, within us, a precious heart that may just be two sizes too small. Metaphorically, of course.  In a moment of illumination, of enlightenment, elucidation, insight, even bedazzling, we can experience something more than learning.

Look at Jesus, listen to Jesus. But there is more there. There is something that connects deep in our hearts. It’s something life-changing, an empowering wisdom, an inspiring spirit that moves us beyond what we might feel inside. There is a light and a love that expands our hearts and moves us to see what is around us and engage it.

The story goes something like this. Jesus’ life is a living example of love at work in the world. What’s your story?

Perfectly something to someone in this moment

This started out being about what’s wrong with saying “you can’t be all things to all people.” But I got sidetracked by perfection. Sort of.

I wanted to point out that, of course, you can’t be all things to all people all the time. That’s a pretty important principal. Presuming that you’re speaking collectively and in absolutes. Because it could also be said that you can be some things to some people some of the time. And the effort to be either of those things is neither helpful or life-giving. What you might want to consider is to be something to someone in this moment.

Sorry about the word play, but here’s why I was thinking about it. The apostle Paul writes to the people at Corinth (where he’d helped establish a church) that he has been "all things to all people, so that I might by all means save some" (1 Corinthians 9:22). I think he means, first of all, to acknowledge that he doesn’t expect to reach everyone. He wasn’t perfect.

By the way, I don’t suppose Jesus thought he would reach everyone, either. And I don’t think that necessarily consigned them to the sinner pile, I think he realized that some people would hear his message and some wouldn’t. Not being a follower of Jesus didn’t - and still doesn’t - make you inherently bad. God works in many ways.

I also think that Paul doesn’t mean to literally be what others want him to be. I think he means that he’s true to himself, which is someone who has taken the gospel to heart, recognizing the love and grace that is within him. He shares that sincerely and authentically by communicating as best he can, which means meeting others where they are, appreciating that they’re different and respecting who they are.  I think he seeks to understand their perspective, where they're coming from, what their traditions are, what their "language" is.  That allows him to offer what he can, but also receive what others offer and learn from them, too.  That builds relationships that are whole, healthy and respectful.  That creates a place where thoughts and ideas and even beliefs can be shared and people might be open to hearing new things.

This is a valuable learning for us. Paul, just like Jesus, tries to meet people were they are, for who they are and how they are. Both church and society as a a whole, we so often have a tendency to impose ourselves on others, assuming they know our “language” and will hear and understand our message as the valuable life-giving news it is. They should want to be part of it, shouldn’t they? But maybe their questions help us learn. Maybe their disagreement helps us learn, too. Or maybe our delivery of the message isn’t perfect. Maybe we’re not perfect.

Hang on. Because here’s where I found more.

Maybe our communication is flawed. Maybe our evangelizing (I just mean our proclaiming the story) doesn’t succeed like we want it to and maybe we don’t “get everyone.” But maybe we should be satisfied with just one at a time, just like Jesus. And maybe, also like Jesus and Paul, we should focus less on the perfection of our communication and more on the perfect-ness that’s a real part of the message.

Here’s what I wonder. If Genesis tells us we’re created in the image of God, aren’t we perfect in our creation? Aren’t we perfect in our relationship with God at that moment, before we start to exercise our gift of freewill and begin to experience this world around us?

I wonder if our confusion over perfect-ness doesn’t come from what we clothe our souls in with the choices we make in this life.  At the heart of things, our souls continue to know that perfect-ness of a relationship with God.  How we live, how we relate to the world around us is in the choices we make.  When our choices are “true,” we live closer with God.  When our choices are less “true,” we not only distance ourselves from God, we distance ourselves from each other and from the harmony that is possible in how we live.

I wonder if we aren’t then seeking the wrong perfection.  Jesus was constantly trying to teach people that it’s not the letter of the law, but what’s at its heart.  It’s not about the structure itself, but what lives in it.  It’s not about how well we follow the ritual, but what it means to us.  It’s not about how something looks, but what’s inside it.  

Maybe life out there isn’t perfect and maybe we don’t always meet our own standard of perfect. Sometimes it’s the little imperfections that make it interesting.  And sometimes it’s the huge imperfections that make it so challenging.  But inside, at the heart of you, in your soul: do you know you’re perfect?  Isn’t that part of the message?

"Astounded at his teaching"

Who says so?

I’m sure you’ve heard that before.  Remember on the playground, maybe, when you were a child?  It’s usually followed by “gonna make me?”

Authority exercised by might: the power of physical force to make something go the way you say it should.  Except it’s not from the play ground, is it?  It’s everywhere.  Every news cycle is full of it. Look at North Korea and the US.  Or North Korea and anybody, really.  (Although there’s that whole Olympics deal with South Korea now, so maybe there’s hope.)  Or, to be fair, the US and anybody.  In fact, there seems to be more than a few nations who operate on the “who’s gonna make me” principle.  Most militaries are on alert and they just moved the Doomsday Clock up to two minutes to midnight.  Thank you, authority exercised by might.

Who says so?

Society says so.  We elect, appoint or otherwise engage people in leadership positions and give them a title.  With that title goes authority.  Sometimes we even put that in the name - The Port Authority, for example - or it’s what we call those who enforce the rules we, as a society, set down, “the authorities.”  We always try to elect, appoint or approve the best people whom we have fully researched and confirmed.  We call this “being qualified” to be in a position of authority.

Wait.  That’s a little too optimistic. We should.  But lately, many people seem to think completely unqualified is okay.  Or maybe they just have a different idea of what “qualified” means.  Let’s not go down that rabbit hole, I think you get the point about society giving authority by a title or position. 

Who say so?

Expertise says so.  Years of education, research and experience.  That’s what “qualifies” us to be in those positions of leadership.  Of course, we are who we are, as a person, and all that expertise doesn’t make us be thoughtful or unselfish in how we wield it.

Who says so?

According to the Gospel of Mark, “who says so?” was not the first thing that people in the synagogue thought when they heard Jesus speak to them.  “...And when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught.  They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes” (Mark 1:21-22).  There’s no indication that these people knew Jesus, he didn’t seem to have any education, he had no title and he certainly had no army.  And he didn’t teach like the “scribes,” temple officials who were the keepers and interpreters of the law.  So what was this authority that so astounded the people?

It would be easy to answer “who says so?” with, simply, Jesus.  But I believe Jesus showed them something we can share with each other, too: the sincerity of Jesus teaching.  Jesus taught a love that was genuine in its justice, compassion and care.  It was without hypocrisy or pretense.  It was true.  And, just as important as the truth of his teaching, was the sincerity with which he lived it.

According to Mark, the very next thing Jesus does - action follows his words - is to heal a man possessed by a demon spirit.  He teaches what may make us whole, and then helps someone to become whole.

Who says so?  The one who, like Jesus, lives the sincerity of what they teach.

Maybe it's time for a change

When it comes to bible stories, I’m sometimes torn between wonder and explanation. That sounds like a loaded statement, but it’s not a bad thing, I don’t think.

The thing is, I think the stories in the bible have an essential truth at the heart of them. That’s why the bible is still relevant - yes it is - and as long as reaching that essential truth is our goal, the manner in which we reach it might be through wonder or explanation. Hmm. Maybe I’m not torn so much as I just waffle between them. I need both.

Miracle stories are a great example. I think that different facets of what’s true can be revealed through wonder at the seemingly unnatural as well as through a reasoned interpretation that puts understanding in our hands as well as our hearts.  Spirit and body, creative and practical, inspiration and action, we need them both.

But the story that’s got me thinking about this isn’t one that we’d necessarily think of as a “miracle.” I think it’s a miracle, in it’s own way, but when Jesus calls his first disciples, we tend to just think of it as an example to follow (no pun intended) just as it is.  Jesus calls us and we will follow.

I’m speaking of the story in Mark, Matthew and Luke, of course. In John, as we talked about last week, the story’s a little different. There, the first disciples of Jesus were followers of John the Baptist. He tells them to check out Jesus because that’s the guy he’s been saying is coming, they do, Jesus says “come and see,” they do and decide to follow him.

The other three gospels tell the familiar story of Jesus walking by the sea. He sees the fishermen and calls to Simon, Andrew, James and John and says “follow me and I will make you fish for people.” They drop everything and go. They don’t hesitate, they drop everything and go because Jesus calls them.

You can see why the church has always liked this story. It’s simple and straight forward and reflects the power of Jesus.

Maybe. And there’s a variety of ways that you could address that. One might think that there would have been many fishermen by the lake and Jesus picked these ones. Did Jesus, being of God, somehow know them already? Did they recognize something in Jesus that caused them to follow? Maybe, in their hearts, they knew Jesus already. Maybe they just wanted to get away from a life of back-breaking hard work. Maybe it was time for a change. Maybe.

We live in a time when our leaders seem to command more followers with their charisma or their physical appearance rather than wisdom or insight. Or empty promises and ideas about who to blame rather than how to fix it, or quick fixes at the expense of others. It doesn’t seem like “follow because I said so” is a good model for today.

But is this that model? I’ve always preferred the story in John because it seems like Jesus invites people to come and see what he’s doing before choosing to follow him and this one seems like Jesus just exerts his power over them and compels them. Yes, this may be a miracle moment when Jesus and his first followers know each other. But it may also be more a miracle of understanding.

The story doesn’t begin with “follow me and I will make you fish for people.” Jesus’ ministry begins with “Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news” (Mark 1:14-15) He was already teaching and preaching. He was already ministering.

Maybe Simon and Andrew came so willingly because they’d already heard the message and it resonated with them. Maybe Zebedee, the father of James and John, was okay with losing two hard working sons from his boat because he’d heard the message too and saw how it touched them. Maybe Jesus wasn’t displaying his power over others, but his connectedness, his ability to engage and touch people’s hearts and minds with a message about making a world of love and grace, peace and hope. 

Listen. Maybe we can all hear it.

Come and See and Experience and Share

Many people are familiar with the Bible story about Jesus calling his first disciples from their boats by the sea of Galilee.  They’re fishermen, and Jesus invites them to follow him and they will “fish for people” (Mark 1:17).  It’s a powerful image of individual call or vocation to bring others to Jesus that appears in the Gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke.

But there’s another story about Jesus and the first disciples that presents a different perspective.  In John’s Gospel, it’s John the Baptist (not the writer of the Gospel) that points out Jesus to those who will become his first followers.  Jesus is not seeking them, they go to him because John tells them that Jesus is the messiah that he, John, was sent to announce.  They go to Jesus and he asks them “‘what are you looking for?’  They said to him, ‘Rabbi’ (which translated means Teacher), ‘where are you staying?’  He said to them, ‘come and see’” (John 1:38-39).  They remain with him for the afternoon and then one of them, Andrew, goes to invite his brother Simon to join them. And, before you know it, Jesus has invited Philip to follow and Philip’s inviting someone to “come and see.”

Come and see.  Experience.  Share.  I think that this is at the heart of what “church” is really supposed to be about.

The invitation, to “come and see,” is not just for a few, but for everyone.  Sure, if you were interested, you could get a pamphlet from every church, synagogue, mosque, temple and meeting hall and read about what that particular religion, denomination or faith believes.  Better still, you could go online and read up on everyone on the internet.  Then you’d never have to leave your home.

But that misses the whole point of the invitation.  To “come and see” is to participate and experience, and to do so in the company of others.

It’s dated now, but we use to call that “fellowship.”  It’s dated, in part, because it’s been co-opted into so many other uses that it’s lost some of its integrity.  But it’s also, rightly, no longer recognized as being inclusive enough.  So how about a new word like “familyship.”  After all, that’s truly what we should be seeking, the experience of learning, living and growing together in the family of God.  Returning to that fundamental point reminds us that we are all children of God, whatever we believe that God to be, whatever we call that God, however we come to that God, we are all members of one family.

That doesn’t mean we all have to be the same, of course.  That’s often the hardest thing to get our heads around, “us” and “them.”  With God, there is no “us” and “them.”  We might not ever come to know that completely in this life, but we will only come to understand it better through experience, by being open enough to “come and see.”

And do.  Let’s not forget that we bring our own selves to any “familyship.”  To really know, you have to bring yourself, your creativity and your energy and share it with others.  For the church family, this means everyone sharing their gifts with enthusiasm, inspired to live as Jesus teaches, inspired to live more than the institution, more than the obligation or expectation, inspired to live into the satisfaction, comfort and joy of relationship with each other.  And the struggle, challenge and hard work of relationship with each other.  It’s an ideal to reach for, but we’re not perfect, families aren’t either.

So you’ve found this familyship and you’ve experienced it.  Now what?  Now we share.

We can do that, first, by living our church familyship into the familyship of our community.  Just as Jesus did, it’s not enough to talk about it, we must show that it is within our lives as well as our words.

But the words can be important, too.  How else will we share what we have learned but to tell others, to invite them to be part of this familyship?

We used to call this evangelism.  Again, that’s a word that we’ve come to understand in a certain way.  But I don’t have another word for this one - I want this one back.  Because it simply means to share the “good news,” to share that very simple, very open invitation: come and see.

A Little Illumination

When I imagine the Christmas Story, I imagine most things happened in the darkness. Sure, Mary and Joseph probably travelled to Bethlehem by day and, for some reason, I have it my head that the angel Gabriel visited Mary sometime around noon - don’t ask me why - but, generally, the key moments all happened in the dark.

We need the darkness to tell the story.

Of course, because it’s a story about light. From the prophetic - “the people that walked in darkness have seen a great light” and “arise, shine, for your light is come” - to the narrative itself - “the glory of the Lord shone round about them” and the star the magi followed “from its rising” - to John’s great metaphor - “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it” - it’s all about the light.

And the dark. And the light.

Okay, we need both. The story isn’t just about the light coming into the world. It can’t be. Because if you look only at the light, you’ll be blinded. What it’s about, is what the light illuminates in the dark.

The light of the angels and the star lead the shepherds and the magi, respectively, to Jesus. But was it exactly what they were expecting? I want to say “I doubt it” because it is absolutely worth remembering that the kind of messiah, the kind of great ruler that the people would likely have been expecting to fulfill the prophecy, would not have been born to poor people, far from home, and placed in a manger for a bed.

So, I doubt that they found what they were expecting. At first. But the story’s not about the light, so much as what the light illuminates. And what the light showed them in that moment was a new life, a new love and the power of love to break into the darkness, just like the light, and show a way forward.

I think the story of the magi, in particular, reminds us that we walk everyday in the light of the unexpected. This is the light of love that draws us in and shows us so much more than our expectations limit us to, a light that shows us the world around us and how we are a part of it. It doesn’t just shine, it illuminates, enlightens and ignites.

This is what the season of Epiphany is all about. Between Christmas and Lent, it’s full of stories about how Jesus is revealed (that’s what “epiphany” means), but to look at it that way would be just like looking at the sun. What’s important is how those stories of revealing illuminate our own journey.

The light, after all, shines on you. It is reflected into the world by you. It is carried into the world by you.