sermonboy.com

Second Sunday after Epiphany

John 1
43 The next day Jesus decided to leave for Galilee. Finding Philip, he said to him, “Follow me.”
44 Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida. 45 Philip found Nathanael and told him, “We have found the one Moses wrote about in the Law, and about whom the prophets also wrote—Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.”
46 “Nazareth! Can anything good come from there?” Nathanael asked.
“Come and see,” said Philip.
47 When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, he said of him, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”
48 “How do you know me?” Nathanael asked.
Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you.”
49 Then Nathanael declared, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel.”
50 Jesus said, “You believe[a] because I told you I saw you under the fig tree. You will see greater things than that.” 51 He then added, “Very truly I tell you,[b] you[c] will see ‘heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on’[d] the Son of Man.”


It was the late Tip O’Neill that said “all politics is local.”

Now, as political quotes go, it might not have the charm of “Where’s the beef” (Walter Mondale), or “I’m no crook” (Richard Nixon), or my all time favourite “Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine. Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy” (Lloyd Bentson). But if the sole criteria was profound simplicity, “All politics is local” would be the hands-down winner.

What O’Neill was suggesting, and what has become conventional wisdom in the political realm, is that the most important thing for a politician to consider is what truly matters to his or her constituents. If you fail on this measure, if you get caught up in issues that do not matter to the people who elected you, then they will employ that other great political cliché and “send you a message,” meaning choose not to re-elect you.

Religion, too, is profoundly local. A leading example would be the Reformation principle that the religion of the ruler determines the religion of the people (cuius regio, eius religio). This idea became the best means to end the wars that plagued the middle of the 16th Century, and determined the course of much of European history. Another example would be that in spite of the best efforts of a century and a half of missionary activity, the best indicator of your adherence to one of the world’s great religions is the location of your birth.

The passage Joyce read this morning picks up this theme, with locality, and the setting of the narrative, taking centre stage in the story:

Jesus decided to leave for Galilee
Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida
“Nazareth!” Nathanael says, “Can anything good come from there?”

Even the names of the disciples tend to geography. Nathanael is about as Hebrew as you can get, the literal meaning of his name being “gift from God.” Philip, on the other hand, is about as Greek as you can get, likely named for Philip of Macedonia, a king and general second only in rank to his son, Alexander the Great. If you are looking for an early hint that Jesus’ ministry is meant to include everyone than we see a beginning in the call of the disciples.

So Jesus appears at the seaside and begins to pick disciples. And the heart of this passage, the call of Nathanael, tells us at least three things about the nature of call: It is individual, it is gift-based, and it tends to our learning needs.

The invitation that begins the passage, “follow me,” is the prototype for the invitation extended to every believer down through time. I think you could successfully argue that there are no more important words uttered by Jesus, or perhaps second only to “your sins are forgiven.” Follow me defines the nature of our faith as followers, it is a personal invitation extended to all people, and it disarms us in it’s simplicity. It is really all Jesus asks of us, that we follow in his way.

But the call of Nathanael takes a different turn. His invitation is individual and based in his character: When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, he said of him, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.”

I hope you can glean the playfulness in this exchange. If there is one aspect of Jesus character that is most often missed, it is his playfulness. Great swaths of scripture are most often read with the dourness that defines too many preachers and too many sermons and misses that Jesus was likely being playful.

So Jesus engages Nathanael in a playful way, but also in a way that identifies and lifts up his leading virtue: he is without deceit. More than a little disarmed by the comment, Nathanael becomes quickly convinced that this is no ordinary teacher, that this is the Son of the Most High. He lets him know, and even suggest Jesus is the King of Israel, then the conversation turns.

Jesus, it seems, has no time for flattery. Jesus provides a correction, maybe even a rebuke, and Nathanael stands corrected:

50 Jesus said, “You believe[a] because I told you I saw you under the fig tree. You will see greater things than that.” 51 He then added, “Very truly I tell you,[b] you[c] will see ‘heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending on’[d] the Son of Man.”

Here is where the learning appears. Jesus is primarily a teacher, send to show and tell the ways of God. And in this situation he can immediately discerns something about Nathanael that may prove a barrier to his faith development—being too easily impressed—and he seeks to correct it. Mere seconds into this relationship Jesus has already guided him to greater maturity in the faith: don’t be easily impressed, wait and see, and be open to the real miracles that are coming.

It’s in our hymn, the same three themes, that make “Jesus calls us over the tumult,” a sermon in a song:

The call is individual, calling us by the name that belong to each of us: “Christian, follow Me!” The call lifts up the best in us, as it describes the best in St. Andrew: “Turned from home and toil and kindred, leaving all for Jesus’ sake.” And the call is a call to learn and grow into discipleship, beginning with one that we all struggle with: “From each idol that would keep us, saying, “Christian, love Me more!”

For many of us, and at most times, call is an interior journey. We are not necessarily blessed with the kind of direct encounter that the disciples experienced, or some believers have described through the centuries. Instead, we experience a more internal conversation, where we open our hearts to the still, small voice calling our name. We pray that we can be open and hear, that we can name and affirm the very strengths that God sees in us, and we can hear encouragement in the words of others, urging us on to greater faithfulness.

Appropriate to today, Martin Luther King Day, I conclude with words from one of the hymns sung at his memorial, April 8, 1968:

Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me;
See, on the portals He’s waiting and watching,
Watching for you and for me.

Come home, come home,
You who are weary, come home;
Earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling,
Calling, O sinner, come home!

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 3:46 AM