disclosing new worlds

2 Samuel 18: 5-9, 15, 31-33 NRSV text
Psalm 130 NRSV text
Ephesians 4: 25-5:2 NRSV text
John 6: 35, 41-51 NRSV text

“The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (1:17). Here is John’s programmatic statement about the difference that Jesus makes. John’s Jesus reveals the Father as “full of grace and truth” (1:14). Jesus is the means by which we receive “grace upon grace” (1:16). Outside of Jesus, it is impossible to know that this is what the Father is like, because it is so counter-intuitive. “Law” makes sense to us; grace doesn’t. We can live with a system of “just deserts”, but passionate, forgiving love in the face of face of flagrant rebellion (such as David shows for his son, Absalom in today’s reading from 2 Samuel) flies in the face of everything we know and indeed want to know about God. Nothing in the system of Law (according to John) prepares us for so radical a revolution in our understanding of God. It is totally unacceptable. And if it is the case that we are to believe something so strange about God – something that so fundamentally alters our way of believing, relating and living – then it is a truth that has to come from God alone. Hence John goes on to say, “No-one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known” (1:18).

I start here – right at the beginning of the gospel – because we need to understand what John is doing in his presentation of Jesus. It matters enormously if we are to understand the role of “the Jews” in the Fourth Gospel. John’s gospel has played a pivotal role in the tragic history of Christian anti-Semitism. It has been the justification for the persecution of Jewish people by Christians as “Christ-killers”. It has been a disgusting and anti-Christian history. We are clouded by its existence – both in terms of deserved guilt and horror at what has been done to Jewish people in the (supposed) name of Christ, but also by the paralysis it exerts right at the moment over our ability to distinguish between anti-Semitism and the effective condemnation of Israeli policies in the Middle East.

Opposition to Jesus: the role of “the Jews” in John’s gospel
It is “the Jews” who are “complaining” (far too soft a translation!) about Jesus’ statement, “I am the Bread of Life – the bread that has come down from heaven and which gives life to the world”. The Jews represent the Law that was given through Moses, and the understanding of God which is unable to see grace and love at the heart of the Divine. John, of course, draws the distinction far more sharply than it should be. To characterise the Old vs New Testament as a “conflict” of Law vs Grace is unsustainable. The Law was understood and experienced as grace (you have only to read Psalm 119 to see that clearly). John is using a narrative device to make a point that is nonetheless true: Jesus effects a decisive break in the understanding of God. There is a genuine novum here – a converting newness which makes it possible to recognise continuity with the past only from the new vantage point.

Just think for a moment about the traditional Nine Lessons and Carols service we have every Christmas. We read the Old Testament as though they presented a “prophetic script” for Jesus. They’re not! We can look back to see “previews” of a suffering Messiah, but we must not imagine that these were understood this way in the past! When Jesus came as the suffering messiah, he stood “messiahship” on its head!

This, in a sense, is precisely what John labours so carefully to tell us via the narrative devise of “the Jews”. This is why John’s Jesus goes on and on about having come “from above”; from “the Father”. The revelation of God as a God of grace and love is the truth about God, but it’s one that is incredibly difficult to accept. The only grounds for accepting such a radical departure from the past is the testimony of Jesus himself: he has come from the Father as a Witness to testify to this truth. And his testimony is trustworthy because he is talking about the Father whom he knows – intimately!

Of course, it is not enough simply to accept what Jesus says – what he claims. The question is, “Is this guy on the level? How can we be sure that he is who he says he is? How can we risk believing him? Because what’s at stake is absolutely fundamental! If this is the Truth, everything alters – who God is, how we relate to God, what God is doing in the world and how we are supposed to live!” This is the significance of the “signs” in John’s gospel – the miracles that make clear who Jesus is (as Jesus explains in the accompanying “I am” sayings). That is why opposition to Jesus is opposition to the God whom Jesus reveals. “The Jews”, in other words, represent resistance to grace and truth. They represent those who have vested interest in a world of just deserts – those for whom the present is “okay” and for whom grace – blessing and inclusion of the “unworthy” and “have-nots” – presents a real threat. We ought not to underestimate the drive to justify reasons for not changing – even by theological means! We saw it in the Afrikaner insistence that Apartheid was God’s will for South Africa, and the blindness to God and the truth of grace and justice that results. It is the same sort of resistance that John evokes through the device of “the Jews”.

Note how John constructs his narrative in this regard. Each sign (the wedding at Cana and the healing of the official’s son in Capernaum) is followed by a major Jewish festival (Passover in 2:13; “a festival of the Jews” in 5:1). In each case, Jesus “goes up to Jerusalem”. In other words, the signs bring Jesus into conflict with the established religious traditions. The point is that “the Jews” fail to understand the festivals as pointing towards the God whom Jesus proclaims: rather, they have interpreted them in a way that makes it impossible for them to recognise the truth of what Jesus is saying – the truth of grace.

That is John’s narrative formula. Go back and read chapter 5 for a moment – it’s key to understanding what is happening in John’s account. We’re deep in synoptic territory – this, after all, is John’s take” on the synoptic tradition, rather than a totally different one – and the context is a dispute over Sabbath-keeping. Jesus heals a lame man on the Sabbath, and as a result, “the Jews started persecuting Jesus” (5:16). Jesus immediately raises the stakes: “This isn’t just about me – it’s about what God is doing! This is about the work of my Father! God is at work here – through me!” “The Jews” get the point! The opposition immediately cranks up several notches: now they are actively seeking to kill Jesus (5:18).

This leads to a solemn statement by Jesus (Amen, amen, lego humin”) about the authority of the Son (5: 19-29). Significantly, it is about resurrection. God is the God who wants to give life – even to the dead! It is a question of eternal life – the Life of God that cannot be quenched or thwarted by death. This is what God intends for the world, and God has brought it about through Jesus (cf 5:30-47). And before we are too hasty to accuse John of being radically dualistic about Law and grace, note vv 39-47 particularly! “Moses wrote about me!” What Jesus means is that it is possible to see that the God whom he calls Father – the God of grace – is truly the same God who gave the Law! However, like Paul, John (and Jesus?) appear to believe that the Law’s intention for grace is thwarted by sin, so that we are doomed to “get God wrong” – unless and until we look at Jesus! In other words, unless and until we read the signs correctly. This is the immediate context for the story of the feeding of the five thousand men.

“Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me”
Here in chapter 6 – the feeding miracle – John tells us that “the Passover, the festival of the Jews, was near” (6:4). This sign doesn’t take place in Jerusalem, nor does Jesus go up to Jerusalem for a confrontation with “the Jews”. This takes place in the wilderness, because John presents it as the true celebration of the Passover. It is Eucharistic (remember?), because it pulls together both the wilderness feeding in the Exodus narrative and Jesus’ giving of his “flesh for the life of the world”. That is the true meaning of the sign. Jesus is the new and true Passover. He will give his “flesh” in the same manner as the Israelites lived because they were fed by manna from heaven. Jesus is the true manna from heaven! He is God’s gift of Life, just as the manna in the wilderness was.

Let me stress yet again, though: it’s all a matter of being able to read the signs! Have a look at my posts on Pentecost 8 and 9. It is possible to see the signs and misread them – to see Bread of Life as only a perpetually full stomach. Recognising the truth requires discernment and openness to God. John stresses this in 6:42. “The Jews” reckon they’ve got Jesus sussed! They know everything of significance there is to know about him – his family history. Now, of course, there is a very deliberate irony here: Jesus is not Joseph’s son, but God’s son! This is precisely the point Jesus goes on to make. But there is another point here, too: the “we know who he is” is a desire to control Jesus – to make him manageable. It is to slot him into a box that we can cope with and to blunt the threat and challenge of his otherness – particularly, to bunt the threat, challenge and invitation from God that he makes present. There is an integral connection between being unable to read the signs and a refusal to read them.

This is what Jesus is talking about in vv 43-46. It’s akin to the synoptic “Those who have eyes to see will see, otherwise they’ll remain blind” motif. John’s Jesus puts it the other way around: “No-one can come to me unless they are drawn by the Father”. This sounds very predestinarian: God only chooses only certain people, so that he fact that some respond and some don’t can therefore be explained by the choice of God. That isn’t John’s theology. His point is that the Father is seeking to draw all people through Jesus. The fact that some come to Jesus and experience him as the Living Bread is a sign that they are open to God’s revelation and invitation in Jesus. They respond to Jesus because they see in him the character and saving action of God.

“Grace is no way to run a kingdom!” (2Samuel 18)
There are two ways (at least!) to read and preach the story of David and his son, Absalom. It begins in chapter 13 – and it’s quite a read! One way is to see it as part of the “It started out so nice” dynamic of David’s reign (and many thanks, by the way, to those of you who responded to my request for help to find Rodriguez!): David’s reign starts out with huge promise, and quickly falls apart because of the flaws in David’s character. David may have been a great warrior king, but he was a useless administrator! He failed to provide justice at the city gates – in other words, to ensure that grievances and disputes could be settled (which was his job). Absalom was able to exploit this and gather dissent support against David. David is also a pretty poor husband and father! He’s remarkably indulgent of his children (and indeed of all forms of rebellion!): rather than act swiftly and strongly, he vacillates and is reluctant to grasp nettles. And Absalom is the original “spoilt child”. We leave David weeping bitterly for his son at the end of chapter 18. In fact, he’s utterly neglecting his responsibilities to the troops who have fought for him and supported him so faithfully – something that Joab has to take him to task for in the next chapter.

So one way of reading these texts is to stress David’s failures. For all his promise, and for all that God does for David, David is weak. He’s an example of the sort of Christian leaders who give Christianity such a bad name (as Peter Pay pointed out in his comment on Pentecost 8). And there is no doubt whatsoever that these sorts of failure of leadership are serious! They cause enormous harm and damage, and the scars remain with individuals and congregations for years to come.

But there’s a second emphasis here, which I find myself drawn to by today’s gospel reading. It’s the emphasis on grace. For all his failings, we see David as a father who will not give up on or disown his wayward, rebellious, murderous son. What more does Absalom need to do to provoke David into disowning him utterly? Why should we mourn this beautiful, treacherous, partricidal (is there such a word??) young man, whose capture is such a wonderful example of poetic justice? Aren’t we with Joab and the others, who are so incensed with Absalom’s evil that they ignore David’s weakness and put him to a well-deserved death – a death demanded by justice and law? What an utter waste of love, emotion and human life David’s grief and weakness for Absalom has proved! He’s lost Israel’s support, had to flee his city and go on the run, lost all his dignity, lost the lives of many of his men … it’s been a disaster! If only David had been able to see past his own (unreasonable) love for his son, this whole sorry mess could have been avoided!

Hmm! Can’t help being reminded here about the story of the Lost Son (mistakenly called the parable of the Prodigal). It’s a parable of grace – about the totally unreasonable, undignified, unjust and utterly ridiculous love of the father for a son who wants him dead! Whereas this parable ends happily ever after (from the father’s point of view, not from that of the elder – faithful – brother!) and the son who was dead is now alive, the story of Absalom ends up with the inconsolable grief of a father who has lost his son irretrievably.

In other words, we can see in David’s very weaknesses – his love for his son, his reluctance to punish rebellion and execute his enemies, his refusal to stand on royal dignity – a mirror of God’s own gracious and loving passion for the world. One of the problems about grace is that it seems to demean God. It makes God so soft … so undignified … so … ungodlike! Philip Yancey, in his book, What’s So Amazing About Grace?, characterises God as “a lovesick Father”. He’s right! There’s something pathetic and distinctly un-admirable about lovesickness. It provokes derision and scorn, however sympathetic we might feel. Our instinct is always to try and talk people out of that sort of love: “It isn’t good for you!” But that’s surely precisely the point about grace! And for those who do have eyes to see, and ears to hear, it’s the most glorious, joyous invitation to Life! It converts. And, says John, however unpalatable that may be, it’s the truth about God!

The grace that makes a difference (Ephesians 4:25-5:2)
If it is truth that converts, says Paul, then its power is seen concretely in changed lives. The Lectionary carefully omits 4:17-24 – presumably because it appears to support and unsupportable characterisation of “us” and “them”. “Us” is the Christians, who are good people; “them” is the non-Christians, who are as bad as it’s possible to be. Now of course, Paul is using “the Gentiles” in much the same way as John uses “the Jews”. He’s no more saying that every Gentile (non-Christian) has “lost all sensitivity and abandoned themselves to licentiousness, being greedy to practise every kind of impurity” (v19) than John is saying that every Jew was fiercely resistant to Jesus and thirsty for his blood! It’s a stereotype – a way of highlighting the difference that faith in and discipleship of Jesus is supposed to make.

Having made it, he then goes on to the verses in today’s readings. Lies, bitter, grudge-holding anger, thieving and evil talk are out. They belong to an old life and an old set of values. These are the “old ways”. They are destructive. They prevent true community. We all know what they bring: bitterness, wrath, anger, wrangling and slander, and all sorts of malice” (v31). Paul’s focus is communal. Christianity isn’t about people becoming “nice” – it’s about transformed individuals within transformed communities!

The communal bit is the most important. For Paul, the most unmistakeable and indisputable evidence – “sign” – of the Holy Spirit’s reality was the Church as communities in which Jews and Gentiles could live together as brothers and sisters without tearing each other apart and killing one another! What’s radical about this is that Gentiles just weren’t supposed to be “in”! Everything they ahd ever known about God suggested that they were decidedly “out”. Yet God, in Christ and through the Spirit, was creating a new, radically inclusive community.

Paul isn’t talking here about an appearance of community, but community as a reality. The verdict of Church history is rarely on Paul’s side – at least in glaringly significant cases! Christians have murdered and killed each other over baptismal and communion practices, the owning of slaves, territory, power, forms of church government, politics, food, resources, race, gender, nationality, philosophy … the list is both grim and endless! And today the Church is hell-bent on tearing itself apart over the issue of human sexuality! I remember (with honour and affection) Michael Vasey, an evangelical Anglican who came out as a homosexual and wrote a superb book about homosexuality and the bible. This godly man received death threats from his so-called “brothers and sisters in the Lord”!

We mustn’t read passages like this one as in some sense “gently pastoral injunctions to niceness”! Paul was writing in a context in which divisions and opinions were strongly held and bitterly divisive. And nothing divides like faithfully-held theological convictions! Then the struggle to win an argument takes on apocalyptic proportions: it is the struggle for the very Truth of God! We in the United Reformed Church would do well to heed that as the moratorium on the sexuality issue comes to an end.

Yet we have been looking at John’s gospel, where we are confronted head-on with precisely such a struggle for the Truth of God! And the greatest truth, we are told in Jesus, is that God is a God of grace. Enough “evil talk” and slander. Enough of making out that people who see things differently over these issues in church life are somehow less Christian, or blinded to truth, than we are! This is to grieve the Holy Spirit of God.

How might we find our compass bearings, then, when the issues seem far from clear-cut and faithful people are so faithfully divided over them? How do we proceed, if there is a sense in which truth matters? The guidance we see in Jesus is this: people matter! We human beings are quick to draw boundaries that God refuses to draw. We like to draw them and patrol them – faithfully and fiercely! Yet, if we are to be led by the Spirit, we ought to concentrate on nearness. “Put away the things that exacerbate division!” says Paul. Instead, “be kind to one another, tender-hearted, and forgiving one another! After all, that is how God in Christ treats us!” Let’s have our debates. Let’s strive to find agreement, and to discover more of the truth of God in it all. But let’s refuse the old stereotypes! Let’s refuse the safety of old arguments with their well-defended walls that keep us apart form one another and reinforce our sense of “us” and “them”. Instead, let’s draw near to one another, with eyes to see and ears to hear, in the scary and fragile faith that God in Jesus will turn out to be different and far more gracious than we ever imagined possible.

Amen.