Dismissiveness and Discipleship: Eucharist – Epiphany 2

Preached by the Vicar in St. Cuthbert's and St. John's Churches

(and written before President Trump went rather further than Nathanael)

(1 Samuel 3.1-10; Revelation 5.1-10; John 1.43-51)

Jesus calls to his first disciples - and to us - with two simple words, “Follow me.” First, according to St. John’s Gospel, he calls Simon Peter and Andrew. The next day - where our Gospel reading starts - he calls Philip, who’d been a neighbour of Andrew and Peter. Then Philip tries to make an introduction and takes Jesus along to meet his friend, Nathanael. This is where it seems to go wrong… because Nathanael’s reaction is anything but gracious. Philip tells him, this is the man we’ve been waiting for, the man who’ll really make a difference, it’s all there in the Bible… and he’s called Jesus, and he’s from Nazareth! But all Nathanael can do is to harrumph: “Nazareth!! Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

The first disciples of Jesus are not a promising lot. A couple of fishermen, one of whom will always prove to be impetuous, rash and useless at living up to promises; a former tax collector; a failed freedom fighter; a couple of ambitious place-seekers; a thief and traitor; and a number of them who never really seem to do much including Nathanael who comes across as the first curmudgeon of the New Testament and then re-appears only briefly in one verse of John chapter 21 (verse 2, if you want to check it) on a fishing expedition. What did Jesus think he was doing? Andrew Greely, American priest, sociology professor and novelist, put it this way:

 Jesus had [a] peculiar taste in friends. You put the whole crowd together and they were not as smart as one of the third rate philosophers in Rome. Maybe some of them could read and write. They were perhaps street smart, but [if] you were going to announce the nearness of the kingdom of God would you surround yourself with folks [like these]? They were utterly insensitive to Jesus’ spiritual message and interested only in the power and prestige they were going to have in his kingdom (which they didn’t understand at all). One of them was a thief and ten of them cowards. Surely, even if he had decided to limit his choice to Galilee, Jesus could have done better? Why these sluggards and nerds? Why indeed? And why do we pretend that our leaders today are better than they were? Patently the first Pope and the first bishops (if we want to use that analogy) were not sacred persons, but inept, often stupid human beings? Why do have to pretend that their successors are any better? Why should they be immune from criticism? Have we missed the point somewhere along the line that the leaders of the church and the followers in the church are fragile, imperfect human beings and that Jesus chose them precisely because he wanted a human church? If he wanted something better, he should have turned it over not to the philosophers in Rome but to the Seraphim.

But, of course, that’s the point. Jesus doesn’t come preaching the Gospel simply so that he can have a Church made up of angels, saints and seraphim. He doesn’t even want a Church where the philosophers have got it all worked out. He wants a human Church, followers who are ordinary people like you and me - like Andrew and Peter, Philip and Nathanael.

There is a point in Jesus calling people like them. Philip himself is not someone that most of us could name as being of prime importance in the Gospels. But right from the start we see his contribution. He might not be able to articulate the finer points of what he believes, but he wants to share it anyway with other people. He takes Jesus to meet Nathanael; he gets miserable old Nathanael up on his feet from under his tree, and he pushes him towards Jesus despite his protests. Later we’ll find him bringing Gentile visitors to Jerusalem to meet Jesus. Still later we get confusion with probably a different Philip in the Acts of the Apostles preaching to Samaritans, reaching still further beyond the fringes of belief as he helps an Ethiopian pilgrim to understand the scriptures; and at the end of the Acts of the Apostles we see this Philip with his family, creating a welcome for St. Paul, and with his church community around him, a testimony to a life of faith-sharing. Whether or not these Philips are the same person, the point is the same. Jesus needs ordinary people who can carry his message - and being clever or articulate isn’t the first qualification. All that’s needed is a willing heart.

But with Nathanael, even that seems to be lacking. Don’t bother me, he seems to be saying to the enthusiastic Philip. And his dismissiveness could be hurtful. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathanael is blunt about feelings we may harbour: I’m comfortable where I am; I’m comfortable with what I know already… And that can mean, I’m comfortable with my ignorance, and I’m comfortable with my prejudice.

But Jesus needs people like Nathanael, he needs people like us - and thank goodness he uses people like Philip. Philip persists: “Come and see…” He gets Nathanael onto his feet and takes him to Jesus. And even before He reaches him, Jesus hails him: “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” Other translations have it, “Here is an Israelite worthy of the name…” Jesus recognises him as someone who speaks plainly, who doesn’t cover up what he thinks. The name Israel, which was given to Jacob, son of Isaac, is a word that means “he struggles with God.” Jesus can see this straight away. Nathanael - beneath the blunt gruffness - is a man with a good heart, who struggles to know the way... How does Jesus know that, Nathanael asks. And the answer is strange - it’s because “I saw you under the fig tree.” That’s enough for Jesus - and it’s enough for Nathanael to be told. Jesus knows about Nathanael, he knows he can use him, because he was in the right place. But what does that mean?

Can God use me? Am I in the right place? We can convince ourselves that we’re of little use to anyone, never mind to God. We don’t know enough, haven’t got the right skills, have so many commitments, and need to be just where we are now - these can be our excuses. But where is God going to find the people he needs? Where does Jesus find his followers? The answer we get in today’s first reading is that God finds the greatest of the Judges of Israel, Samuel, while he’s still a young boy, and he makes himself heard while that young boy is in bed. Surely God can’t be speaking to Samuel - wouldn’t he speak to Eli the priest first? Samuel can’t comprehend it, until Eli realises what is going on: stay where you are, stay in your bed; know that God has a message which requires not priests and the Temple but which needs you and your open heart - so let him speak to you where you are. That’s why Jesus can call disciples who were simple fishermen working with their nets. He can call us. And he calls Nathanael from under a fig tree. Some commentators say that a wise student of the Jewish Torah would study while sitting under a tree, so that seeing him there gives Jesus the measure of the man. But perhaps Jesus is simply saying, I’ve seen you there - I know you; I need you. The fig tree is what will sum Nathanael up, in the same way that it’s enough for the Gospel writer to say that Philip comes from Bethsaida, and Nathanael thinks he can be simply dismissive of Jesus when he hears that he comes from Nazareth.

But now Nathanael recognises something new: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” He realises that Jesus has the authority of a teacher who can be called Rabbi - and it’s not just that he comes from Nazareth… he comes from God.

And Nathanael comes from under a fig tree… The question for us is, where are we coming from? What is it that sums us up, what are the ignorances and prejudices that we need to leave behind us? Do we realise that already Jesus sees us and calls us? - just as we are…

Perhaps what we need above all in today’s society is to recover our human identity as spiritual beings. We need to recognise that we are more than the sum total of the molecules and atoms from which we are physically created. We are more than all the stuff which we cling to as material possessions. We are made by God, loved by God, and called by God to be his people. We simply need to hear his call, feel his touch, let ourselves respond. It’s not that we should let go of our reason, but it’s to recognise that there are things beyond rationalisation. Believing is not something to be ashamed of. Praying is not something we need to apologise for. We don’t need to worry if we don’t have all the answers, and a faith which expresses itself in humility has much more going for it than the arrogance of certainty.