In the name of God – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
Amen.
What
are you looking for? Seriously, why are you here? Why did you choose to get up
on the weekend and come to church. A hidden perk of being a priest is that you
get out of the task of getting two children ready for church and out the door
on time – but I understand it’s not an easy thing to do. So why do those of you
who have children do it? Instead of having a leisurely morning to read the
paper at home or catch up on some tv shows or do some chores around the house,
why do you come to church on Sunday? What is it that you’re looking for?
It’s
the question posed in today’s Gospel. Are you looking for peace in your soul?
Healing in body or mind? Are you lonely and this is a place where you can find
community? Are you searching for purpose and meaning in your life? Do you seek
inspiration to go out into the world to do the work of ministry? What are you
looking for exactly?
We
are in the liturgical season after the Epiphany. This season of the Church Year
focuses on the various ways in which Jesus is made known to the world – we call
these epiphanies. So all of the Scripture that will be read from now until Ash
Wednesday will be revealing something about who Jesus is and what his ministry
was all about. Last Sunday, we read about the Baptism of Jesus in the Jordan
River. That was an epiphanic event because it reveals Jesus as God’s beloved
Son, and also because it says something about our own Baptismal identity. The former
Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, has said that “we cannot be
understood apart from Jesus.” That is, when we learn about Jesus, we learn more
about our true nature, as he is the epitome of humanity and the source of our
identity as the liberated and loved people of God. So the season after Epiphany
is an important one because we not only learn more about Jesus, but also
ourselves.
What,
then, is the epiphany in today’s texts? The gospeller John invites us to “come
and see.” Throughout John, this refrain of “come and see” is a central one. The
disciples, and we’re included in that group, are told to “come and see.” What
John the Baptist invites us to see is the “Lamb of God.” Isn’t that an odd
invitation? Why did John call Jesus the “lamb of God”? The short answer is that
we do not know. This is the only place in the entire Bible where that phrase,
“Lamb of God,” is used. There are places, such as Isaiah and Revelation, that
mention the lamb, but the phrase “Lamb of God” is never used elsewhere.
And
what is a lamb? Well, for one it’s one of the five animals used for sacrifices:
bull, goat, turtledove, pigeon, and sheep. Of course, a lamb is a young sheep.
Can you imagine if John had gone with pigeon? “Behold, the pigeon of God.”
Doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it? It’s still a really odd title. Lion
of God, Son of God, Image of God – I could understand any of those introductory
titles, but “Lamb of God,” that one is harder to grasp.
By
calling Jesus the Lamb of God, John is essentially saying “Here’s a meek and
vulnerable object of sacrifice, he’s a dead man walking, an inevitable loser.” Because
that’s what lambs are – they’re young, vulnerable, and good for sacrificing.
For John, if he had to choose a single epiphany of Jesus, a single way to view
Jesus, it would be on the Cross. In John’s theology, the image of Jesus on the
Cross reveals what we need to know about him. And this is where the admonition
to “come and see” is so important.
Often,
when it comes to the Cross, we don’t “come and see” because we assume that we
already know. For much of Christian thought, the story goes something like
this: God created humanity, and then Adam and Eve sinned, and this essentially
put humanity “in debt” to God and it’s a debt that we’re unable to pay, so God
sends his Son to be born on earth, and was killed as the payment for our sins.
That’s an oversimplication, but it’s likely a story you’ve heard before. There
are many, many problems with that approach to sin and salvation, but the
conflict that John puts before us this morning is that he calls Jesus the “Lamb
of God.”
You’ll
remember that the way the story unfolds is that we kill Jesus, not God. God is
not the sacrificer, God is not the butcher, we are. Rather, God offers Jesus to
us to teach us about the Kingdom of God, the depths of love, the power of
faith, and the abiding presence of God with us. But we didn’t want to look at
hard truths, we didn’t want to change our ways, we couldn’t stand a love so
pure. So we did our worst to Jesus on the Cross. We sacrificed him, we killed
him, not God. We wanted a scapegoat, and so we turned Jesus into one.
So
often, we flip the equation and distort the meaning of the Cross. We say that
Jesus was sent to be an offering for our sins to satiate God’s wrath, when in
reality, we made Jesus into an offering for our sins because God was so
committed to us that he’d allow himself to die at the hands of his Creation. If
we heed John’s words to “come and see,” what we see is that Jesus shows us
something about the extent to which God will go to abide with us and the depths
that we are capable of. Nowhere in Scripture do we find the notion that God
required a “final payment” for any debt that sin caused. That is an image of
God that is vengeful, blood-thirsty, and unable to forgive freely – not exactly
the images of God that are founded in Scripture, such as God being loving and
merciful. All the more, the invitation to “come and see” is important.
This misreading of how
Jesus is the Lamb of God can be catastrophic to our theology. Instead of grace
we erroneously focus on condemnation. Instead of Jesus showing love and
commitment, we can wrongly see Jesus as nothing more than blood sacrifice. We
might ignore our role in Jesus’ death. And so when we come and see, what we
will see when we misinterpret the Cross is some version of Christianity that
would be foreign to the disciples and to Jesus himself. The invitation that
John issues is for us to come and see God as he is actually revealed in
Scripture and Jesus, not to build our faith on shallow assumptions.
This is an invitation to
go deeper into our faith in this season after Epiphany: to come and see, not an
angry God who is disappointed with us and has to send his son to die before
he’s allowed to forgive our wickedness, but rather come and see the God of
Scripture who is merciful, just, steadfast, and loving. There are a few ways
that we might come and see more deeply and fully.
For one, if we are to
come and see Jesus, the best way to do it really is simple, but it takes
discipline. Reading Scripture is crucial. In the Bible, we have centuries worth
of stories about God’s interactions with humanity. We can read to be inspired,
to be challenged, to come to know God more deeply. One great way to come and
see is to take up and read.
Another
fantastic way to come and see more fully who Jesus is, and in turn, who we are,
is by coming to worship. Now, if you’re hearing this, then you probably already
get the importance of worship. What I want to say about liturgy though is that
it works. Our worship is built on prayers that are hundreds of years old, and
in some cases, thousands of years old. Our worship, because it is rooted in
common prayer, unties us to people across the globe and across ages. It’s part
of what makes The Episcopal Church so unique and valuable – that we are united
by worship, not theology. Some of you are very liberal in your theology and
political views and some of you are very conservative. Some of you are very
wealthy and some of you are living paycheck to paycheck. Some of you would say
that your faith is “very strong” and some of you would say that you have “a
lot” of doubts. Some of you would love nothing more than to have incense at
every service and some of you would rather never smell it again. But here’s the
thing – none of that really matters because of our commitment to common prayer.
What
makes us Anglican isn’t that we all dress the same way, that we all think the
same things, that we all have the same preferences when it comes to liturgy.
Rather, the gift of our Anglican heritage and faith is that we are united by
the fact that we say the some words together, that we kneel at the same altar
together, that we sing the same hymns together, that we drink of the same cup
together.
But
the trick to this bond of common worship is that it is only as strong as your
commitment to common worship. Think of it in terms of learning a foreign
language. If you want to learn Spanish, you’re not going to get very far if you
only study every few weeks. No, it will take commitment and regular practice.
That’s how liturgy is. Liturgy absolutely shapes us and saves us, but for the
full effect, we need the right dosage. Because when you commit to coming to
church consistently and regularly, you come and see the power of the Eucharist
to bind up our wounds and nourish our souls, you come and see relationships
that truly matter, you come and see the Word of God proclaimed, you come and
see how Baptism names us as God’s beloved.
For
some people, this is quickly evident in worship. After a few weeks,
transformation begins. For others, it may take years, or even decades. But as
the inheritors of a 2,000 year old tradition, it can be trusted that liturgy
works, so long as we commit to coming and seeing.
Often
in art, John the Baptist can be seen pointing to Jesus. This is based on
Scripture, where John makes it clear that he is not the Messiah, but rather
points to Jesus as this figure. Part of coming and seeing is about doing this
work of pointing. Sometimes you’ll hear it called “evangelism,” but really,
it’s as simple as offering the invitation for others to “come and see.” If you
found the cure to a disease, wouldn’t you want to share with others? Wouldn’t
you contact researchers and doctors to come and see your discovery?
Why
then, in our faith, are we so reluctant to invite people to come and see? I
think it goes back to that question that we began with “what are you looking
for?”. If we’re not able to articulate why it is that we come to church, how
can we invite people in a meaningful or authentic way. When you have come and
seen, you can then say to others, “If you want to know of God’s glory, if you
want to be filled with bread that never perishes, if you want to quench your
thirst with living water, if you want to abide in love, if you want to see the
light of the world, if you want to know the Good Shepherd, if you want to enter
everlasting life, if you want to know God, then come and see.”
This
Epiphany, you are invited to come and see. Come and see God for yourself. Come
and see the Cross of Christ not as divine punishment, but as divine solidarity.
Come and see God in Scripture. Come and see God in Eucharist. Tell others to
come and see St. Luke’s – the church that feeds people in body, mind, and
spirit. Come and see who you are revealed to be in Jesus Christ: a beloved
child of God. Come and see.
