Come and see

 

John 1: 43-51
New Ark United Church of Christ, Newark, DE
January 17, 2021

“Come and see”.



No “get your life together first”.

No “clean up your act”.

No “be best” or even “be better”.

No demands to “be like us”, to assimilate.

No “agree to this set of beliefs”.

No “sign here on the dotted line”.

No expectations.

No promises.



“Come and see”. Jesus says it to Andrew. Philip says it to Nathaniel.

Jesus even praises Nathaniel for being himself, even though Nathaniel sounds like a cynic when he disparages Jesus’ hometown. Nowadays it would be like someone getting an invite to come to worship and replying, “Can anything good come out of the Church?” Especially those who have been hurt by the Church, those who have been excluded from leadership and community, whose voices have been marginalized by a faith that has been weaponized and used to conquer.



Can anything good come from a Christian? Can anything good come from being a Christian? I know those are provocative questions, and yet after the events of January 6 when so-called Christian White nationalists stormed the Capitol building in an armed insurrection, displaying a flag with “Jesus 2020” on it, more than ever people associate the word “Christian” with fundamentalist thinking, evangelicalism, and the violent inability to tolerate differences. No wonder. The corrupted Christianity that was on display is a binary all-or-nothing proposition—us or them, heaven or hell, for us or against us.

Though the insurrectionist mob may not explain it this way, Missouri Senator Josh Hawley will tell you this nation is in moral peril because of Pelagius. Pelagius was a 5th century theologian who was declared a heretic because he believed in free will and that individuals are capable of figuring out their own salvation. A modern example of this heretical thinking can be found in a 1992 Supreme Court decision in which Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote, “At the heart of liberty is the right to define one’s own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of human life.” To Christians like Hawley, this is anathema. If Christ is Lord, there is no room for religious pluralism or secularism. If Christianity is not dominant, it is somehow delegitimized. It is either Christ or chaos.



And yet listen to the many identities of Jesus in this passage: Jesus, son of Joseph of Nazareth; Rabbi; Son of God; King of Israel; Son of Man. Some of these and others were thrust upon him; only one did he own: Son of Man or inclusively, Human One. Jesus was many things to many people, but he was adamant that neither he nor his disciples would seek power or dominance.

We human beings have this odd juxtaposition of right and wrong, good and evil, and individual freedom of thought and will. It is said that you don’t need religion to have morals. If you can’t determine right from wrong, you lack empathy, not religion. But it’s more than that. What we have here is the fear and shame of being on the losing side or being wrong or different or in the minority, the toxic need to be right, deeply tied to one’s identity and the desire for approval. It’s the anxiety of the loss of comfort, security, strength, certainty and not having the wherewithal to process and deal with that. It is religion used as a means of control and power over people and circumstances, that preaches a religious freedom to conform to Christ and no other.



And yet progressives and liberals can be just as fundamentalist in thinking and in policy. We may not say ‘dominate’ but we see nothing wrong with ‘control of the House and Senate’. We don’t mind the rules when we’re the ones who make and enforce them. Though we may be on the side of justice, we are certainly not infallible. We have our own struggles with self-interest and keeping what we have, including wealth, power, and privilege. We have our own racism and classism, transphobia and sexism. We have our own expectations of assimilation, our assumptions about tradition, our resistance to change.

It’s one thing to believe Pelagius was right. It’s another to live it out in community and in relationship to one another. It is difficult for us to have our own beliefs and for other’s beliefs to be just as valid as ours. This is what it means to deconstruct and decolonize what we believe. I define for myself my own concept of existence, of meaning, of the universe, and of the mystery of human life, but I cannot define these things for you. You define your own understanding, but it is not delegitimized by your neighbor’s difference. We are able to live this way by mutual respect but also by giving up some of our liberty that others would have the same liberty. It’s messy and complicated, imperfect and real.



We may not understand why someone’s journey may lead them to join a church but not be baptized, but we can trust that they know their journey and their heart better than we do. By doing so, we show ourselves to be trustworthy of their journey and their heart. We may not understand why someone who does not believe in God would still want to be part of a church, but I think we can trust that love is involved and that faith takes many forms. We may not always experience our view of faith reflected to us in worship, but I am thankful that this is a church of individuals each on their own journey who have decided to travel together.

I know there are some here who would rather be called a follower of Jesus than a Christian because of all the negative baggage that goes with it. And yet I think we need to take back the word “Christian” and say what we think it means, in all its varied meanings. Silence creates a vacuum for others to fill. Each of us is an identity of what it means to be a Christian and no one gets to define it for us. I know this is a non-creedal church, but what if we each wrote our own creed? For a few years now I have wanted us to have a conversation about our theological diversity, but the timing wasn’t right.



I know it is not an easy conversation to have: to find out just how different we are, to risk being vulnerable, to talk about something so very personal. And yet we also risk not appreciating the rich diversity, not knowing our companion travelers, our losses and our strengths, all that we have in common, and the deeper sense of trust that can come from that. The faith that keeps us going may be what someone else needs to hear; the faith that keeps someone else going may be what we need to hear.



Come and see, my friends, come and see.



Amen.

Benediction – enfleshed.com



Love sends us in our full humanity,
to encounter the full humanity of others:
messy, real, complicated as it is.
That compassion may be our practice.
That differences may be our teacher.
That honesty and truth may guide us.
God calls not the perfect but the willing.
In the company of each other and the Holy Spirit,
Let us go in peace.