John 9: Arguing Yourself Into (a Deeper) Faith

Strangely, Jesus is mostly absent from today’s story. Jesus speaks in verses 1-7 and 35-41. He is present in the remaining verses that constitute the bulk of the story, but not in person. But he is there, the subject of the action. And if I were to summarise verses 8-34 it would be something like: 

 1. People wondered about the man and his healing. Is it really him? The man confirms the miracle at the hands of Jesus. (9:8-12) 
2. The Pharisees speak to the man and are divided in their opinion about Jesus. Jesus broke the sabbath; he is therefore a sinner. But others wondered how a sinner could perform such a miracle. They ask the man, and he confesses Jesus as a prophet. (9:13-17) 
3. The man’s parents are called to verify the facts. But his parents, fearful of the consequences, direct them back to the man. (9:18-23) 
4. The man is interrogated again. He says he doesn’t know if Jesus is a sinner, but one thing he does know: “I was blind, now I see.” Jesus must be from God. They revile the man as a disciple of Jesus and refuse to be taught by such a man. 

 From 9:35, Jesus returns to the narrative and leads the man to articulate his faith in Jesus: “Lord, I believe.” And he worships Jesus. (Compare John 20:28) Jesus finds the man and brings him to faith. Jesus then teaches what has just played out between the man and the opponents of Jesus in respect of jesus.  Jesus coming into the world brings judgement. (See John 3:17-21) His presence allows those who come to faith to shift from spiritual blindness to spiritual (in)sight, but those who physically see but reject Jesus because they claim they have spiritual (in)sight, become blind. (9:39-41) The man who was physically and spiritually blind moves from blindness to physical sight and spiritual (in)sight, culminating in his confession of Jesus as the Son of Man. On the other hand, the opponents of Jesus, while physically able to see, remain in spiritual darkness. They refuse to acknowledge the sign of the miracle and what it means (about Jesus). And they refuse to be taught by the man who has gained both physical and spiritual sight. And this double movement applies to the man as he moves from sin to faith, and the opponents from a claimed righteousness to the darkness of clinging sin. (9:40-41) 
 

The absence of Jesus through the middle of the narrative allows us to watch a man arguing himself into faith. And he is wrestling not just with others, but also with himself, and with God. (See Genesis 32:22-32) He argues with his neighbours and names Jesus as the miracle worker. He argues for Jesus against the Pharisees: “Jesus healed me and he is a prophet.” And again, with more opponents of Jesus, the man implies that he is, or wishes to be, a disciple of Jesus. (9:27) And he is reviled by them. But the man knows that sinners can’t do what Jesus has done. And the miracle is a sign waiting to be interpreted correctly. (In John 5, Jesus heals on the sabbath. In the dispute with his opponents, he says that he gives life on the sabbath just as his Father is working on the sabbath. See John 5:16-18 & 10:10) The man is coming to faith: “If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” (9:33) 

And then Jesus meets the man, points to the man’s hope, and declares that he, Jesus, is the fulfilment of that hope. (9:37) “Lord, I believe.” And he worshipped him. (9:38) I, too, have argued myself into a deeper faith at times.  I do it every time I write a sermon. I wrestle with the text.  In speaking to others about Jesus, I argue myself into a deeper faith. The interaction with others, with life itself in all its joy and sorrow, asks me to decide. Is life stronger than sin and death? Without God, does any of it make sense? Is Jesus the one? “Yes, Lord, I believe.” And he worshipped him.

Notes on the Readings for Pentecost Year C

 A. The Tower of Babel (Genesis 11)

1. Gen 1-12 include universal stories: we read them and see something of ourselves and the universal human predicament in these stories  (For example: Creation and Fall through resentment leading to  human violence and arrogance, revenge and murder.)

 

2. Notice that, despite the best efforts of humankind to “make a name for ourselves,” God still has to “come down” to see the great tower built into the heavens. The arrogance of humankind is on display, shown in a competition with God.

 

3. God confuses and scatters humankind to break up our attempt to be great and all-powerful. The greatness humankind aspires to without due reference to God leads to a uniformity we can recognise in the great mass movements of the twentieth century. In confusing our language (different languages) we are scattered to await the true unity that God will build within us. That is, in confusing and scattering us, God is saving us from ourselves.

 

B. The Holy Spirit Descends (Acts 2)

1. Jews from all over the region (speaking different languages) have come to Jerusalem to celebrate the great Festival of Pentecost. They are a microcosm of the great variety of humankind. Even their unity as the Chosen People/the People of God must wait for its final form in the preaching of the good news by the disciples of Jesus.

 

2. Notice that it is not the listeners who are enabled by the Spirit to understand the dialect of the disciples. The Spirit enables the disciples to speak the good news of what God has done in Christ into the variety of peoples and languages of the world, and in this variety bring a new, unforeseen unity. The unity is not to be found in a uniformity, but in the new humanity won for us in the death and resurrection of Jesus.

 

C. Love and Unity of the Father and Son in Us (John 14)

1. We have heard how the universal disunity of humankind (symbolically displayed in our differing languages) is brought into a surprising unity through the folly of the cross and resurrection of Jesus and the giving of the Spirit.

 

2. It is worth comparing the apparent foolishness of God’s wisdom displayed in the cross of Jesus with the ‘wisdom’ and arrogance of human attempts to bring unity.

 

3. Jesus and the Father are one.  The unity we enjoy and must nurture comes to us through union with Jesus, and through him, union with the Father. That is, he and his Father make their home in us. This is the “much fruit” that comes from the seed that falls to the earth and dies. We are one because of Christ’s death.

 

4. Therefore, we must always remember that our unity is not made by our own effort, but is a gift of God, won for us at great cost. However, the unity we enjoy can be easily undermined by our own effort.

 

5. The Advocate/Spirit abides in us and teaches us from within. And what are we taught? The Advocate/Spirit will teach us how to love Jesus by obeying his great commandment: to love one another as he has loved us.

Comments on the Readings for Easter 4C

 Acts 9:36-43 

Earlier in Acts, Peter had great success in turning the hearts of his Jewish listeners to Jesus through his first speech. (Acts 2:37-42) then Peter visits the coastal plain and heals a man named Aeneas and, through this healing, converts a whole area, “who turn to the Lord.” (Acts 9:32-35) So, through word and action, the Christian mission is expanding among the Jews of Jerusalem and the surrounding region. Our reading follows this story of the healing of Aeneas, with Peter responding to a cry for help. In our story today we gain a glimpse of the humanity of those involved in the story. Often, as in the case of the healing of Aeneas, the narration of the miracle is terse and to the point. And because of this, we often miss that a healing or other miracle like this comes after a tragedy that deeply affected those around. (Not only the one healed.) And because the story is usually told so matter-of-factly, we miss the human element. But in this story, we are provided a window into the grief of ordinary people. We are told of Tabitha’s good works, and those who grieve show Peter the evidence of this. They loved this woman. After she dies, they lay her in an upstairs room. (As was the custom.) We glimpse a real life here. And through Peter, Jesus gives her life. (It is important to note that Peter does not have life in himself – the power is that of Jesus.) 

Rev 7:9-17 

Immediately prior to the section that we are reading, the tribulations of history are in full swing. (Rev 7:1-8) But there is a short respite before the tribulations continue, to allow time for the servants of God to be marked and sealed on their foreheads. And the number who were sealed were 144,000, with 12,000 from each of the twelve tribes of Israel, including, significantly, the ‘lost tribes’ of Israel. (See Jeremiah 31:8) This number, constituted by multiples of the symbolic number twelve, represents the fullness of the reconstituted and renewed people of God. “Israel” is first used in Revelation here at verse 4; the chosen ones are gathered and sealed with the blood of the Lamb. Another, and final, Exodus is underway in the vision. And then we arrive at our reading today. John sees a vast multitude, too great to count, from every nation and language. (Interacting with Genesis 11:1-9; Acts 2:1-11) While it might seem confusing that there are two accounts of the redeemed, they play into each other. The vocation of Israel (see Genesis 12:1-3) is fulfilled in the renewed twelve tribes of Israel, called from every nation and language. (And we are reminded of Jesus calling twelve Apostles to symbolise the renewed twelve tribes of Israel, and through these apostles, the renewed people of God would include Jews and Gentiles.) We are still witnessing the liturgy of heaven. The people of God are worshipping at the throne, with robes and palms reminiscent of worship in the (recently destroyed) Temple in Jerusalem. We are told that the worshippers have come through the great ordeal, purified by the blood of the Lamb. John is giving his listener/reader (including us) a vision of ourselves with God and the Lamb in the kingdom (to come, yet also strangely here). In this Kingdom there will be no more tears, and the Lamb will guide us to “springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” This is the message: Rejoice and have confidence that God is working on our behalf for the fulfillment of the Kingdom. 

 

John 10 :22-30 

What do you use to identify who and what God is? One ancient way is by the things that God does. If the one you are identifying as God carries out these functions, then that one is God. In John’s Gospel, the author demonstrates that Jesus is God because he carries out these functions. There are a number of functions that only God can execute. For example, life-giver, creator, and judge. Filling out life-giver a bit, we might say that God is source of all life. Not like a prophet who raises the dead in the name of God, but someone who has life in himself, the sheer livingness of God as their own possession. This is Jesus. A classic passage where Jesus identifies himself as possessing life in himself is John 5:25-26. (See also John 10:17-18; 11:25-26.) And this also touches on God as creator, the one who gives life to everything that lives. (See John 1:1-4) And another function of God is protection, because God is greater than all else. These two, life and eternal protection, are the central point in today’s Gospel reading. Jesus says that he, the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep, will give his sheep eternal life. And, just as no one will snatch his sheep out of his hand (not like the hireling of John 10:1-10), no one can snatch the sheep out of his Father’s hand because the Father is greater than all, even death and sin. Therefore – and this is the climax - Jesus and the Father are one. (John 10:30) We can trust Jesus, for he is the very Word of God made flesh. (See John 1:1-5, 10-18.) All that Jesus is he has received from the Father through self-giving love: God’s sheer livingness, judgement, life and protection to share with creation. And Jesus the Son loves the Father, and in that love gives his life in obedience to the Father’s desire for our good, our life, our eternal life. (John 3:16)

The Cross of Jesus: A Reflection on Love, Judgement, and Obedience (Part 2)

 Good Friday

Judgement is less like the teacher telling you off and more like Jesus on the cross. 

 Jesus is on the cross out of love. Jesus on the cross condemns the sin that crucified him. In his innocence (Lk 23:47), sin is unmasked and its true nature shown: the absence of love. (And the darkness could not overcome it. Jn 1:5)

But this judgement is also a revelation. When Pilate brings Jesus out to the crowd he says, "Behold the man!" Or is could just as easily mean, "Behold humanity!"  This is what we do to each other, and this is what we have made ourselves into. Our fall is revealed to us in the flesh of one of us, Jesus Christ. But this is more than a revelation of who and what we are. This is a double revelation: who and what we have made ourselves into to be able to do this to one another, and also a revelation of God. 

"God so loved the world ..." (Jn 3:14)

Yes, God so loved the world that he sent his only Son. In Christ God suffers and dies at the hands of sinners to show us who and what we are. Christ's death wasn't a miscalculation or a mistake on God's part, to be corrected at the resurrection. Christ loved his own to the end - to the point of death on a cross - to simultaneously reveal the depths of God's love and our need for a saviour.

  But there is a third revelation. In the crucified Jesus, who dies for love, we see our true humanity. He revealed to us our distorted humanity in his wounds. Now his wounds (the price of love) reveal to us the love that is our true calling as humans.

Today we are invited to look at the cross. It is the revelation of love and our need of God's healing love. To look at the cross of Jesus this way is to be set on the path of faith and of healing the great need within us. Look and live. We see what we are now in the broken body of Jesus; but we also see on the cross the true humanity to which we are called: A faithful humanity, obedient to the loving will of God for the sake of others.

Let Us Love One Another: A Reflection on Love, Judgement, and Obedience (Part 1)

 Here is the first of three reflections used at Easter with a theme of love, judgement, and obedience. (Using John's Gospel as the prism to refract the light revealed to us in the cross and resurrection of Jesus.)

Maundy Thursday 

"Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end." (Jn 13:1)

 Jesus' walk to the cross wasn't a misjudgement on his part, or a miscalculation on the part of the Father, or the act of someone stuck between self-giving and self-flagellation. It wasn't the result of despair or frustration. The death of Jesus was the result of love. (Love on the part of Jesus - malignant violence on our part.) Jesus loved his own to the end. His death was for us and our good. 

 

And the death of Jesus was also because of his love for the Father. Jesus' love of the Father, shown in his obedience to the divine will, took him to the cross. (Jn 14:31; 15:9-10 ) But the cross was not only the result of Jesus' love of us and his love of the Father. The Father's love for the cosmos was the source of the Father's sending of the Son for our sake. ("For God so loved the world ..." Jn 3:16) And because of this constancy of love we know that God is love (1Jn 4:7-12, 16), the light of love. And although the darkness tried to overcome the light (Jn 1:5), we know that God is light in whom there is no darkness. (1Jn 1:5) 

 

Jesus symbolised his act of love and service on the cross in the washing of the disciples' feet at the Last Supper. Footwashing, the work of a slave, parallels the Son who emptied himself, taking the form of a humble slave, being obedient even to the point of death on the cross. (Phil 2:5-11)

 

But the footwashing is also about being washed by Jesus.  Peter could not conceive of his Teacher and Lord washing his feet. But it is because Jesus washes our feet/is crucified for us that he is our Lord and Teacher. (See Luke 23:35-38) And in this 'washing' we find the way to salvation. (Jn 6:68; 13:8; 14:6)

 

And our response? Jesus invites us into the constancy of the love of the Father and the Son through faith in him. (Jn 1:12; 11:25-26; 20:30-31) And we abide in this love of Father and Son through obedience to Jesus' command - to love one another. (Jn 13:34-35; 15:12-17) In this love we will know the Father's love, just as we will know the love of Jesus, the Son, and abide in their love. (Jn 14:21-24; 17:20-24) And with the presence of the Paraclete - another Advocate - within us, we will testify to the truth (of this constancy of love) and  receive all that the Father and the Son share. (Jn 16:13-15) And in this testimony we know the future: the glory of the love of Father and Son, abiding with us now, and eternally. (Jn 16:13) 

So let us love one another. To love one another is the master key to unlock the mystery of the cross and resurrection of Jesus. To love one another is the fruit of the cross and resurrection of Jesus. To love one another is to love Jesus and share in his love of the Father, and to enjoy their mutual presence of love in our lives. So, let us love one another.

Lazarus (Mustard Seeds Poetry 1)

Ann Nadge, a poet I know, has distilled some of the posts from this blog into poetry. She has used my words verbatim, captured the essence of the post, and moulded it into a poet's vision. This is the first of more to be published over the course of the year.

This poem is from an original post on 28th March 2020 that was written at the beginning of COVID-19.

 Lazarus, a figure of conversion 

life of discipleship, moves 

from life to death to a life given back. 

So too, we move deeper 

into God’s love - movement 

from life to death to a life renewed 

in daily dying and rising with Christ. 

We die to the false self, in Christ 

receive a renewed sense of self. 

Imagine Lazarus smelling the roses 

after he was raised, living the gift 

of life despite the dark times. 

We too are called to smell the roses 

for we have gained our lives, 

not lost them. 

 

Whatever cross you bear 

there is a flower on your path 

just waiting to be noticed. 

Live the gift of life given back, 

live it as the gift it is.

Trinity Sunday Year C (Part 2)

In our baptism, joined in hypostatic union with the Son who stood abandoned for us, space is found for us to regain our identity as children of God, united with the Father through the Spirit.

The Gospel of John can seem a bit confusing at times. It's because the language reflects the union of the three figures of the divine story, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. (You can think of God as a story or a movement of love, into which we are inducted through baptism, sharing in God's life.) Take todays' Gospel reading:

He will glorify me because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you. (John 16:14-15)

The three - Father, Son, and Spirit - are so intimately connected to one another that to speak of one leads to the others. None can be cut off from any other. Today, the Spirit reveals Jesus, but everything that the Father has is Jesus' also, so all are present in the revealing of the Spirit. But notice that in their mutual presence none of the three loses their particular identity in their union with one another, while, on the other hand, never falling into a crass individualism. Indeed, the more the Son is the Son - that is, deepening his relationship to the Father- the more he is the Son in his identity as Son. (One reason why the naturally relational language of Father/Son in trinitarian language won't go out of fashion.) This is personhood, not individualism, and without the great sea of undifferentiated being in the background for us to be dissolved into. Personhood implies identity and relationship.

Made in this image, we reflect God in our inter-personal nature as human beings, for others are always present to us, one way or another. When we receive another person others are also present with us, at least in some manner, or perhaps a variety of ways. This mutual presence to one another is a common human experience hinting at the fullness of our being and our lives, and the whiff of the future blessedness of creation. (The experiential antonyms of mutual presence are also common: loneliness, despair, anxiety, revenge, murder, self-loathing, self-conceit, etc.) 

Here we meet also a trinitarian basis for forgiveness. And I am not talking about the forgiveness that we receive upon repentance - most of us can offer that kind of 'forgiveness', at least sometimes. Instead, I am talking about the asymmetrical, pure forgiveness of God. (See here.) In forgiveness, the Father refuses to lose the other (the sinner) and the Son restores to us our true identity as children of God. (Rom 8:12-17) In the Son's abandonment on the cross and in his resurrection and ascension, we can never be lost. God remains present to us, even in our human weakness, failure, and sin. (Romans 5:6-11) 

This is why I have difficulty conceiving of hell as popularly understood. We are never alone, even the damned. In the abandonment of the cross, this holds true, especially so for the abandoned/damned.

Trinity Sunday Year C (Part 1)

Readings for Trinity Sunday (Year C)  Proverbs 8:1-4, 22-31; Romans 5:1-5; John 16:12-15. 

‘He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” (John 16:14-15) 

 The strange language of the Gospel of John: the three – Father, Son and Spirit – are interconnected in such a way that if you talk of one, it naturally leads to the others. So today, the Spirit comes and will take what is Jesus’ and declare it to the disciples. So if they have forgotten anything, the Spirit will teach them. But then, immediately, Jesus says that all that the Father has is his. Therefore, if the Spirit declares to the disciples what is Jesus’ then the Spirit will also be declaring what is the Father’s. 

The three are so closely connected that we speak of the union of the three. And before we get bogged down in working out the apparent complexities of the Trinity, let’s catch one of the practical and simple implications of this language. Wherever God is, there is Jesus. So you can trust Jesus. And the gospels tell us that this union is not after the resurrection, but speaks of who Jesus is all the time. So you can trust what he says and what he does. Giving yourself to Jesus is to give yourself to God. The salvation that is won in Jesus is God’s gift to us. 

 And the Spirit. You can trust the Spirit, for the Spirit speaks (of) Jesus, and what Jesus has is the Father’s. To be in the Spirit is to be in the Father and the Son. To receive the Spirit is to receive the freedom of the Son, the freedom of the children of God who cry out ‘Abba’ – a cry of intimacy and love. There is nothing complex about that. It is the simple message of the gospel. Jesus is the salvation of God, and to receive this salvation is to be part of the love the Son receives and gives to the Father. 

 And if we are in Jesus, then our destiny is to be with Jesus, wherever he is. And he is with God. And so our final destiny is, likewise, to be with God. But not just our final destiny. For if we are in Jesus, and Jesus is in God now, then we are in God now. We don’t have to wait. This is the work of the Spirit. Jesus has departed, but the Spirit is given to us, who makes Jesus known and present in us and for us. Our final destiny is true right now. This is part of the meaning of Jesus as the way, the truth and the light. He is not just the destination (the Father, or heaven maybe), but is also the way there. And we are on the way now. We are not alone. (Or as John’s Gospel says, we are not left orphans.) And this is intimately tied to mission. In the NT our inclusion in God results not in a passive enjoyment of our relationship with God, but, in the confidence and strength of it, going out into the world. ("As the Father sent me ..." John 20:21)

Let's Not Reduce The Ascension

It is common for people to give up on the Ascension. ("Where did he go? There are just planets and stuff 'up' there.") But we could let the Ascension speak out of a thicker sense of reality than that, and not dismiss the ancients as pre-secientific simpletons and drongos. (For those reading from a non-Australian background, 'drongo' is an Australian term for 'fool'.)

Thirty years ago I tried a spiritual experiment. I rose early each day for three months and meditated for an hour. At the end of the three months I experienced a deep silence for a couple of seconds until I tried to claim it ("I've done it!"), and then it was gone. I describe it as a deep silence, but that doesn't do the experience justice. It was deeper than that, but I can't really think of a better word than silence to describe the experience. Undoubtedly bits of wires stuck to various parts of my head might have told us what was going on in my brain at the time, but that wouldn't suffice as an explanation or even complete description of the experience. (Reductionism in the guise of a complete explanation is like that: inadequate.)

Maybe 'ascend' is like 'silence' above.  Maybe 'ascend' is a good word for something much deeper and more profound than is captured by the common use of the word. Yes, Jesus ascended, but that just doesn't capture the experience. It was much more than that. Way deeper than just 'up'. 
Is Jesus ascending and therefore leaving us? Yes. And is ascension also creation being drawn into God? Yes. Such that now the presence of the God who is present to all creation (i.e. transcendent) is now imprinted with the death and resurrection of Jesus. Ascension is just as much about ascending away as it is about ascending into, about Jesus' absence from us, as our journey with him.

"I will not leave you orphaned. I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me ... I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name ... " 

And here is an Ascension kid's talk for church.

And here is a poem on the Ascension, from Barb, a local Anglican priest.

John 12:1-8 Mary, Jesus, and that Perfume

 “As the best thing is love itself, not the benefits which it confers, there must be no censure of its lavishness as disproportionate.” (William Temple, Readings in St John’s Gospel, p. 191.) 

 Imagine your brother has just died and three days later Jesus turns up. Jesus does miracles. “If you had been here he would not have died.” (Jn 11:32) That’s Mary of Bethany. She then goes off to mourn at the tomb. Jesus follows and raises Lazarus from the dead. 

 When Lazarus died, Mary did not fully comprehend the significance of Jesus, and especially, the meaning of his death. She understands that Jesus has the power to perform miracles. She does not yet understand Jesus fully, though. She will witness the miracle of the raising of Lazarus, and then understand the miracle as a sign pointing to the meaning of the death of Jesus.

 Fast-forward to the anointing, and Mary now understands. She has seen Lazarus raised from the dead. Her brother is alive once more. Later, when Jesus is at table in her house she does not come to him to acknowledge the miracle as such. The miracle is a sign of something greater. She now understands the miracle as a sign, and she is the first to come to this understanding of the death of Jesus in the Gospel of John. This is why she anoints Jesus for his death. The miracle brought life where there was only death, and as a sign the raising of Lazarus points to the life-giving death of Jesus. The death of Jesus will bring life, eternal life, and the Spirit welling up in the heart of the believer. (Jn 7:37) Where there is death, now there is life. (Jn 12:23-24) The cross will not have the odour of death, to be imprisoned behind a stone (11:39). Instead, his death will have the aroma of extravagance and life that fills the house and will not be contained. (12:3 and 20:1)

John 12:1-8 is the gateway from the public ministry of Jesus (of signs pointing to the meaning of his death) into the narrative of the Passion, that is, the death and resurrection of Jesus. It can be read profitably with John 11. (See Jn 11:2) This larger chunk (from 11:1 – 12:8) retains a focus on the death of Jesus throughout. It begins with the raising of Lazarus, and continues with the plot to kill Jesus. (11:45-53)  Ironically and unknown to him, the high priest, in justifying the plot to kill Jesus, speaks the truth about the significance of Jesus’ death. (11:50-53) They will kill him to eliminate him, but Jesus will go to his death as the one sent from God to unite all the children of God. And then there is the duplicitous Judas, who will betray Jesus. (12:4-6) 

 Mapped over this focus on the death of Jesus is the movement of Mary from tepid, half-understood faith, to a disciple who comprehends. She anoints Jesus for his burial, having kept the perfume for this day of symbolic burial. (12:7) She has not anointed Jesus as king/messiah (see Mark 14:3-9), but in a similar fashion to the way in which Jesus’ washing of his disciples’ feet is symbolic of a total cleanse (13:8-10), this anointing speaks of future embalming. (R.H. Lightfoot, St John's Gospel. A Commentary, p. 236)  This anointing is not a symbolic purification of Jesus. Soon, Jesus will symbolically purify his disciples as he washes their feet, but Jesus does not need purification, he will purify others (cf. Hebrews) and is therefore worthy of this great act of extravagance and love.  “She responds to his self-giving love by giving her all, giving herself in a beautiful, foolish and scandalous way.” (Jean Vanier, Drawn into the Mystery of Jesus Through the Gospel of John, p. 206)

The Epithet of Sinner (John 6:56-69)

In today's Gospel reading (John 6:56-69) those who follow Jesus are being pared back. They are a remnant of what they were. Jesus collected quite an array of followers, but over the course of his ministry they disappeared. The righteous are being thinned out. Today, they are thinned out because of his teaching about the bread of life and consuming him for eternal life.  And in the end Jesus would lose all his followers, and he, Jesus, would be the remnant, the righteous one. His righteousness covers me, that’s part of being redeemed. Being crucified to my old self, the self that makes crosses and all sorts of metaphorical crosses for others. 

So I like the epithet of sinner. Not just sinner. Redeemed sinner. It’s why Christians don’t mind being named as sinners. We are redeemed. But often we think of ‘sinner’ as a judgment on us. A source of shame, and a state we should escape from. Not being a sinner is preferable to being a sinner. But I prefer to see ‘sinner’ as a way of being that is my identity, how I am in the world. Not as a description that can and should be jettisoned as soon as possible. I think of ‘sinner’ as something almost permanent; this is how I am. Not a layer poured over the top of who I am that I could peel off at some point (if I stopped doing bad things perhaps) and resume being me. I think redeemed sinner is who I am. Sounds negative, and the world rejects and avoids such an epithet. (“I'm not one of those...”) Or sometimes it is embraced as an expression of a deep dislike of self. (“I’m worse than everyone else.”) But for me it is always redeemed sinner, and that changes everything. 

But doesn’t "redeemed" mean that I am no longer a sinner? No, better to keep ‘sinner’ than not. Here’s why. Sinners redeemed in Christ know that they are loved. Not because of their own righteousness (the remnant is Jesus, not Jesus and me), but because of God’s unearned and freely given mercy and love. I receive and therefore my reconstitution comes from gift. That’s what it means to be a redeemed sinner. 'To be' because of gift, the gift of love, or more precisely, the gift of a relationship of love. It changes how I see the world. It’s all gift. I am built up by receiving, in thankfulness, not in grasping or resentment. What I learn as a redeemed sinner becomes a prism through which to see all of life. It is the beginning of joy and the scent of the peace that passes all understanding.

The Raising of Lazarus

In the season of Lent we are in preparation mode for Easter.

No wonder we get this set of readings. From life to death, to life.

The story of the raising of Lazarus is often referred to as the resurrection of Lazarus. It wasn’t a resurrection, Jesus is the resurrection, not Lazarus. But the so-called resurrection of Lazarus is a figure of what was to come. Lazarus’ raising is more like a kind of resuscitation because Lazarus will die again. Jesus’s resurrection is an utter transformation that takes who he is and all that he is into God. Including the human failure that crucified him, evidenced in his wounds. Even sin finds its end in resurrection. We call it forgiveness.

But the resurrection of Lazarus is also a figure of our conversion and life of discipleship. Lazarus moves from life to death to a life given back. So too our movement as we move deeper into God’s love: a movement from life to death and then back to a life renewed, life given back to us. In our daily dying and rising with Christ we die to the false self in Christ to receive back a renewed self, and renewed sense of self.

Imagine Lazarus. Who better to appreciate the gift of life than the dead, or the dead given back their lives. Lazarus must have really been smelling the roses (so to speak) after he was raised. Consciously living the gift of life as a gift despite the dark times of life. (This reminds me of that cartoon from Michael Leunig that has Jesus carrying the cross and because he is bent over he notices a flower on the path.) We too are called to smell the roses for we have gained our lives, not lost them. Whatever cross you bear there is a flower on your path just waiting to be noticed.

And part of our discipleship is to help others leave behind the barriers to living life more fully.

 The raising of Lazarus also speaks to us now as our personal and communal lives change, perhaps for ever, because of COVID-19.  Many of us are feeling once again the fragility of the human project, the project to continually make ourselves individually and communally. This self-made person and society is so fragile. Most of the time we wander around as though our projects are here to stay.  But the potter’s wheel of life has a tendency to pull the illusion down. It is tempting to live the illusion and rebuild the project. I most likely will. But I won’t do it with quite the same blithe arrogance that ignores the reality of our fragility and our dependence on God. When we are allowed to resume our former lives, I, like Lazarus, might live the gift of life given back, but more consciously live it as the gift it is.

God's Love and the Royal Wedding

The preacher at the recent royal wedding stole the show in a way. True to his roots, he preached a style of sermon that was refreshing and complemented the straight-down-the-line approach of the Archbishop of Canterbury. Touched off with a marvellous rendition of  Stand By Me gospel style. And with perhaps 2 billion people watching Bishop Michael Curry took the opportunity to speak of the transforming power of God’s love and the possibility of our mutual love seen in a couple about to discover this love in a life lived together in holy matrimony. It was a good sermon for a world of limited Christian understanding and showcased the Christian emphasis on love.

The bishop said many things, but here is my very short summary:

If we love each other we will transform the world.

As someone said, it was classic Progressive Christianity. Of course, if we could love each other the world would be different. A new creation. But the world isn’t different, so presumably (the awkward, unspoken inference of the sermon) we don’t love each other well enough. So try harder. And here we meet the soft underbelly of Progressive Christianity. Generally speaking, while so-called progressives begin with a concern for the excluded and for peace and justice, Progressive Christianity ends wagging the finger as much as its arch-rival, the conservative evangelicalism. “If only we loved each other more …” We don’t, so try harder. I find progressive Christianity as law-driven and critical of those who don’t measure up as anything it allegedly opposes. Progressive Christianity is adept at the backhanded compliment.

The readings for Trinity Sunday (Year B) have as the Gospel reading a great chunk of John 3. It narrates, among other things, God’s action in Jesus to change people and the world.  It is not a call for us to try harder, even to try harder with a good measure of aid from God. The traditional gospel affirms our neediness and inability to save ourselves, to contribute to our salvation at all. Our contribution is elicited, enabled, sustained, and fulfilled by God. We can’t even claim a tiny, little sliver of unaided contribution that was topped up by God.  Of course, we can call each other to greater acts of love. But how to do this without the implied criticism? Better to be honest about the criticism and see where you end up.

The preacher at the royal wedding got away with it because his ancestors were slaves and here he was preaching to the Queen of England. A good dose of irony in that, irony that sits very comfortably with Christianity. But, generally speaking, progressive Christianity has as much trouble with criticism and exclusion of those who don’t measure up as do any of the conservatives.

He Loved His Own to the End

As Jesus prepares to wash his disciples' feet, we are told that he loved his disciples to the end. But who is included? Who was there that night, those whom Jesus loved to the end? The Twelve? Or should we say Eleven? We are told (Jn 11:3, 5) that Jesus loved  Mary and Martha and their brother Lazarus. If they weren't physically in that room that night,  they were present as those whom Jesus loved to the end. They are included in those whom the Father gave to Jesus (Jn 17:6, 9), they are Jesus' and therefore the Father's (17:9-10), given a share in his glory so that they may be one with Jesus and the Father and all Jesus' disciples. (17:22-23) And what of Mary Magdalene, who knows the voice of her shepherd when he calls? (Jn 20:16 cf. 10:3-5) Surely she too should be included. The circle could keep expanding, as it should, to include all those who have come to believe through the testimony of those first disciples. (17:201-21)¹ The baptismal overtones of the foot washing (Jn 13:8-10) point to an inclusiveness beyond the circle of those who were physically present, as does the explicit link to the death of Jesus. (Jn 13:1)

Despite what might seem like evidence to the contrary (Jn 13:2, 10-11, 18-19, 26-30), does the text suggest that Judas remains in the circle of those for whom Jesus died, loved to the end by Jesus?  Is he still one with the other disciples, joined to the Father through the Son? We might hesitate to make such a bald affirmation, but the text is making us work toward it. An easy dismissal of Judas as traitor and a devil (Jn 6:70 and especially 13:27b, 30b) while suggested by the text, is also undermined by a sub-current within the Last Supper narrative of John. We should remember that, presumably, Jesus washed the feet of Judas, pointing to Jesus' death for all sinners and asking us to bear in mind the implied baptismal meaning of the foot washing. But more interesting is John's use of the Scripture quote from Psalm 41. (Jn 13:18) The usual word for eating (found in the LXX in the verse quoted) is replaced by John for the overtly eucharistic word to munch or crunch, used with eucharistic overtones in John 6:54, 56, 57, 58).² The Eucharistic overtones are hard to ignore. Judas, into whom Satan entered, receives bread from the Bread of Life. Moloney says that Jesus giving the morsel to 'the most despised character in the Gospel's narrative" indicates Jesus' love for all his disciples, including those who fall and fail, and in this "reveals a unique God." ³.

1.  Francis Watson,  "Trinity and Community: A Reading of John 17", in International Journal of Systematic Theology, 1/2, July 1999, pp. 172-173. Watson is also helpful in dispelling notions of male normativity if the Twelve were the only disciples present at the Last Supper, as well as John's use of two male intra-divine figures as paradigmatic of the nature of discipleship. see pp. 174-175.

2. Francis J Moloney, Glory Not Dishonor, pp. 20-21.
3. Ibid., pp. 22-23.