| December 13, 2009
From The First Baptist Church in America pulpit – Providence, Rhode Island
The first chapter of John begins in the land of “time before time.” The prologue echoes the earliest cadences of the Book of Genesis. Then it moves from the cosmic and mystical to the incarnational and concrete. The Fourth Gospel upsets our familiar tellings of the Jesus story. For one thing, there’s no nativity. A Christmas pageant in John would feature one kid, speaking one line: “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us ... full of grace and truth.”
Admittedly, this would constitute great savings in the “costume and props department,” it would also leave us seasonally short-changed. That one character is “a man sent from God whose name is John.” Not to be confused with John the Baptist in Matthew. Or John the Baptizer in Mark. Or the son of Zechariah and Elizabeth in Luke. In John, he’s just “plain ol’ John.” And people went out to hear him too, for the same reasons we come to church to this day: to try to get a handle on the infinite. It is the purpose of religion to talk about God in a way that makes us feel a little less lost in the universe. A place to go to sing the ol’ familiar hymns and perform certain rituals, even though we can never solve the mystery that is God.
Religion had no better name then than it does now, but either way there’s plenty of it. Non-church goers prefer to call it “spirituality.” Philosophers say it is an opiate,” because it’s a “system” invented and defended by people trying to domesticate God. God needed John to wean the people off of religion and onto faith. Did you know that the Bible speaks 261 times about faith? But only 3 times about religion. 3 times! That’s all the religion there is in the Bible!
Jesus never mentioned it. Maybe because the abuse from “organized religion,” power politics, and greedy business interests, were his strongest opponents. But the religious folks were his toughest audience. The first time he preached in his hometown synagogue, it wasn’t a happy ending. As long as he stayed inside the accepted boundaries, they loved it. But when he became too inclusive, coloring outside the margins of Judaism, they tried to throw him over the precipice!
Jerusalem is one of the most religious cities on earth. And it gave Jesus fits. Every time he showed up at the temple, they plotted to get rid of him. Once Jesus got so mad about the corruption in the house of God that he pitched a tantrum in church and turned the furniture over! In the Gospel of John, that act of religious house-cleaning led directly to his death. Religion was more of a hindrance than a help to Jesus. Instead of bringing people closer to God, it was what people did instead of worshiping God.
When they could no longer surrender to a faith that provided no details, cut no deals, or afforded any slack – they invented a religion that would. And the system is worshiped instead of God. Rather than praying to God, they made up rules on how to go about it. Instead of working for justice and mercy, they created a list of petty legalisms about what you could eat. And how to wash your hands. Instead of putting in “orphan and widow” time, they’re more interested in keeping their religious scorecards up to date. And it just wore Jesus out! Because when religious people become too religious about their religion, they don’t know when to stop.
Religion’s real weakness is it becomes an idolatrous, spiritual blindfold that shields us from God. Especially when he comes to us from outside of our religious systems. It’s always a surprise to religious people whenever God shows up differently than the way they say he’s supposed to. Because God sent Jesus through the back door, it guaranteed that he wouldn’t fit any of the boxes we had waiting for him. Neither did “the man sent from God named John,” who also got the attention of the big shots in the religious establishment -- with what always gets our attention -- big numbers. John was able to draw impressive crowds out in the wilderness.
But they don’t know what to make of him any more than Jesus. When the box is too small, it attracts the attention of those who create the boxes and scrutinize others to ensure they stay inside the lines. So they send a godly delegation over to check John out. Professional appraisers, up on all the rules. Down on anybody who won’t keep them. Out in the desert to see where John got the authority to do what he’s doing. “Who does this guy think he is?” And that’s how the Fourth Gospel begins—with nobody knowing who anybody is! All of these boxes in their hands and none of them fit! “Why don’t you act like everybody else?”
Is he orthodox or reformed? Contemporary or traditional? A liberal or Pentecostal? High church; low church; no church? Where does he stand on global warming, health care, the ordination of women or the gays? They want specifics. But John won’t budge. “Who are you?” And all he tells them is who he’s not. “I’m not the Messiah.” That one is interesting because it’s not what they asked him. They did ask him if he was “a prophet?” Nope. Are you this? Nah. Are you that? Sorry. And that’s how the entire interview goes -- with denial after denial. Because that’s what happens when somebody is crammed into somebody else’s box. The uninhibited are terribly frustrating to the orthodox. Their life is built around a precise system. But John won’t fit any of their categories. They don’t make a mold to fit this Baptist! And it doesn’t take them long to figure it out. No matter what they suggest, John’s going to say “No!” But they persist. “What do you say about yourself?” And John offers a stubborn refusal to play ball with those attempting to vet the Voice. He simply can’t be squeezed into any part of their frame of reference.
The synoptic gospels provide more details, describing what he looked like, what he wore and ate. But the Fourth Gospel offers no visual description. We can only deduce who he is, not from what he wears or eats, but from what he says…about who he’s not. “I’m the Voice!” he says. “Well then why do you baptize if you’re a nobody?” “All I know is, I’m not worthy to untie his shoes.” The only claim he makes for himself is he’s not worthy. He’s the herald, not the main event. As uncooperative and ornery as Roger Williams, John’s like that with the Jerusalem tabulators. Finally he does tell them something about his cousin. “Ah I’m just wetting folks down with water. But he’s gonna set ‘em on fire!”
If ya’ll think I’m hard to peg, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! If John’s a challenge, just wait till they see the Light! Neither will he kowtow to their religious system, or acknowledge their petty rules or honor their little legalisms. Because if the Light did that, he wouldn’t be the Light. He’d be something much smaller, tamer, controllable. Like one of those little pocket flashlights. Something you can turn on or off at will. They keep trying to get a bead on John, and box-him-in so they can kick him out! But John has no handles to grab ahold of. That’s what makes him such a good witness to the Light. He’s unclassifiable. And Jesus is equally undefinable. No system on earth is big enough to contain either of “God’s chosen cousins.”
Jesus once said his generation was hard to please. Hah! He should’ve lived in ours! Like “kids playing in the marketplace,” nobody can get along or even tries to cooperate. When “they piped, the others wouldn’t dance.” “When they dirged, the anti’s refused to funeralize.” No matter what you try, some people will never be pleased! John was somber. Wouldn’t touch a Bud; way too stodgy to have much fun. By contrast, the Son of Man was a party-animal. When “he came eating and drinking, they said he’s possessed.”
That’s when John tells them the one thing they don’t want to hear: “He’s somebody you don’t know.” To tell those in the know, who are supposed to know everything about God. Don’t you know how “know-it-alls” hate that? It just intensifies their futility. Because knowledge is power. With it, you get to call the shots. And when they couldn’t get that, they had no recourse. They couldn’t excommunicate him. Because he didn’t belong to anything they could kick him out of! He’s a desert-rat, who operated outside their religious power lines. He can’t even untie Jesus’ sandals! Just a voice. And the only way to silence a voice is to waste the man! That makes it hard on those who build themselves up by putting others down. John had already emptied himself out, in order to make way for the Light. Like those reality-show White House party crashers, this is another one of those “nobody knows nothing about anything” stories. Because John doesn’t know any more than the authorities! And that’s just the point. God knows it’s the only way to keep our past expectations from limiting the Light.
One of my favorite lines in the comedy “My Big Fat Greek Wedding,” was “Don’t let your past keep you from being who you are. And don’t let who you are disconnect you from your past.” Faith is about trusting the Light -- to be light enough to live by and die with. And that’s why before we get to Bethlehem, the church takes us out by the Dead Sea to hear John preach.
But this Gospel offers no quaint images of a young couple on a trek up to Bethlehem. Nor will we see any shepherds or hear any outdoor cantatas. No villainous innkeeper, no sage magi. There’s very little in the Fourth Gospel to support the church’s tendency to romanticize and our culture’s attempts to obscure Christmas. God just shows up saying, “Can I get a witness -- to the Light?” To remind us that the darkest forces in the world are not as powerful as they seem. All the constraints of darkness lose their charm when measured against “The Word made flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.” Because when the Light is all we see; that’s all the religion the good Lord seems to want us to have. And it’s all we’ll ever need.
Providence Prayers: 12-13-09
“The man sent from God whose name was John” believed that better-ness was Jesus, the Best of the Breed. And we smiled at the Babe. But scorned the Man. The Innkeeper sheltered the Infant. But his followers hid in the Upper Room. Because everybody expects a Savior. But God sent a Child! Anything less is always unacceptable to the “stoners of the prophets.” Can truth really walk safely among the fearful? Or justice among the vengeful? Or love among the hateful? Or grace among the spiteful? We know how to keep the rules, and punish those who don’t. What we don’t know is if we can be his disciples. We like to have our cake and eat it too.
But still we believe “Jesus is the light of the world.” Let it shine in our darkness to brighten our weary spirits. Shine it on our illnesses and heal them; our hurts and console them; our fears and dispel them; our divisions and unify them. Shine on our church the John-and-Jesus light, who are too big for any of our structures. Grant us a big-spirited church, as wide as the love of God, and as deep as the grace of God; that offers forgiveness not criticism, hope not judgment, acceptance, not rejection, Christ...not religion.
Dazzle us in this worship. Because of our flawed capacity for self-deception and self-justification, show us more than we’re willing to see. More than we’re ready to hear. Let it guide us to what we deny, so we can see straight, love more, forgive much, and sin less. May the music of our singing, level every mountain; the echo of our joy, fill every valley; the sound of our praying, make the crooked paths straight; and the measure of our preaching smooth out the rough places, all in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord...
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