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| "Martin Luther King of Georgia," Br. Robert Lentz, OFM |
John 1:43-51
The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” Nathanael asked him, “Where did you get to know me?” Jesus answered, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Nathanael replied, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” Jesus answered, “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these.” And he said to him, “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.”
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There are two invitations in our gospel reading today.
Jesus, inviting Philip into discipleship, saying, “follow me.”
And Philip, responding to Nathaniel’s skeptical question, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” with the invitation, “come and see.”
In our increasingly difficult, anxious, and divided world, these two invitations - “follow me” and “come and see” - serve as both call and challenge to those of us who profess faith in Jesus Christ.
These invitations impress upon us the necessity not just of believing in Christ, but in following him, in a way that is obvious and apparent to the world.
Jesus, in John’s gospel, sees himself as the visible, living, breathing manifestation of God the Father. The point of knowing Jesus is to know God, and the point of knowing God is to bring God’s love to the world. The life of faith is a life of following. It is an empowered life, and a life of wonder.
In our gospel reading today, Jesus tells Nathaniel, “you will see greater things than these.” Later in John’s gospel, before Jesus is arrested, he will take this statement one step further, saying to his disciples, “the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these.”
He will tell them, “If you love me, keep my commandments,” and he will wash their feet and tell them, “a new commandment I give you - that you love one another.”
If we love Jesus, then we do what Jesus does, we love the way Jesus loves, and we open our hearts and lives to the great and greater works of healing, restoration, and compassion that God intends to accomplish through us.
Jesus is not concerned with faith as much as he is concerned with faithfulness. “Come and see” always leads to “follow me.”
And following Jesus is the way we say, “come and see” to the world. The world will know Jesus by watching us, his followers. So that is question for us today. When the world looks at us, what does it see? What version of Jesus, if any, are we making visible in the world?
In our reading from 1 Corinthians, as in so many of his letters, Paul is giving the early church, in all its contexts, guidance as to how to make Christ visible in and through their lives, as individuals and as communities. Paul makes it clear that freedom in Christ always comes with an obligation to our neighbors, especially those watching with a skeptical eye to see what Jesus might be all about.
In Christ, we know grace and love and forgiveness and hope for a world restored. But these things are only as good as the ways that they are visible in our lives. Paul urges us to remember that the life of Christ should make us different. We should not be indistinguishable from those who serve other gods and other ends.
“Everything is lawful,” we might say, but Paul pushes back, saying, “not all things are beneficial.” Elsewhere in his letters, he will say, “You were called to freedom, only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’” (Galatians 5:13-14)
We are called to be a visible witness to the love of God in Christ Jesus for the vulnerable and the suffering, and we are called be a courageous witness to the love of God in Christ Jesus over and against those who would use the name of Christ for violence, oppression, or selfish gain.
We cannot ignore the fact that a little more than a week ago, in the midst of violent rioting at our nation’s capital, a group of these rioters raised up a wooden cross. This was not the only thing constructed that day. Another group of rioters also built a gallows.
When the world sees this, what version of Christ are they seeing? And what counter-witness are we providing?
In a May 10, 1967 address to The Hungry Club Forum, a gathering of white politicians and local black leaders, Martin Luther King, Jr. says,
“[The triple evils of racism, economic exploitation, and militarism] are tied together..…We have left ourselves as a nation morally and politically isolated in the world. We have greatly strengthened the forces of reaction in America, and excited violence and hatred among our own people….[We have] become insensitive to pain and agony in [our] midst …”
And yet Christ made solidarity with pain and suffering his very life’s work. Championing love and not hate, even for enemies.
Are we living lives that makes this true version of Christ apparent? Are we letting this light shine? Are we living out visible, tangible, courageous, radical, unconditional, justice-seeking, neighbor-prioritizing, generous, gracious, powerful love in everything we say and do?
In another address given in August 1967, titled, “Where do we Go from Here?” King says,
“What is needed is a realization that power without love is reckless and abusive, and that love without power is sentimental and anemic. Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love….Now what has happened is that we've had it wrong and mixed up in our country, and this has led [Black] Americans in the past to seek their goals through love and moral suasion devoid of power, and white Americans to seek their goals through power devoid of love and conscience.”
And in his book of the same title, King writes,
“Love that does not satisfy justice is no love at all. It is merely a sentimental affection, little more than what one would love for a pet. Love at its best is justice concretized. Love is unconditional. It is not conditional upon one’s staying in his place or watering down his demands in order to be considered respectable….”
Power without love is reckless and abusive.
Love without power is sentimental and anemic.
Love at its best is justice made concrete.
Dear ones, we are entering into a difficult week.
Already, traffic has been halted, businesses closed, and travel severely restricted in Washington D.C. National Guard troops are camped out in our nation’s capital, and in state capitals as well. The Arizona state capital is encircled by double rows of fencing. In California, temporary fencing is held together by handcuffs. Windows at the Illinois and Ohio capital buildings are boarded up; Ohio also has state troopers stationed on the capital roof. SWAT officers stand guard in Georgia.
And as much as we despair of it, many of those who would threaten or enact violence in this time of political and national crisis do so bearing and even proclaiming Christ’s name. There are many cheering them on in the name of Christ.
It should not feel like an act of courage or a risk to my vocation, reputation, or life to state plainly that acts and threats of violence in Christ’s name are an offense to the gospel. It should not feel like a risk to publicly condemn the use of faith to justify white supremacy and all forms of racism and prejudice. It should not make me nervous to continue to stand at this pulpit, week after week, and preach of Christ’s love shown in justice for the oppressed, provision for the poor, advocacy for the vulnerable, and the way of self-giving rather than self-indulgence.
And yet it is a risk to say all of these things.
It is a risk, always, to make Christ’s love visible in all we say and do. It is a risk to answer the call of love. And yet it is also love that makes us bold.
The writer of 1 John encourages and challenges us, saying, “Do not be astonished, brothers and sisters, that the world hates you. We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another. Whoever does not love abides in death. All who hate a brother or sister are murderers, and you know that murderers do not have eternal life abiding in them. We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us — and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God's love abide in anyone who has the world's goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action. God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them. Love has been perfected among us in this: that we may have boldness on the day of judgment, because as he is, so are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. We love because he first loved us."
Dear ones, there is power in love, if only we let it be visible. When Jesus says “follow me,” what he means is, “love God and love neighbor and love enemy” in the way you walk through this world. Love God and love all especially when it’s hard. Especially when it draws you across boundaries and out of your comfort zone. Love even when it takes immense courage to do so.
For when we live like this, the world will see. The world will know in whom we have put our trust. The world will come and see, and find not fear or condemnation, but rather hope made manifest in love that knows no bounds, love that cannot die, love that will bear all things and believe all things, love that will endure. This is our calling. This is our witness. This is our salvation.
Amen.