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. 

Listen... from Samuel and Nathanael to Benedict and us

The Bible readings we have today are about asking and listening - about being ready to ask and being ready to listen.  What’s going on with this young boy Samuel, an apprentice priest at the Israelite shrine of Shiloh in the days before the building of a Temple in Jerusalem? What does Nathanael have to learn from Jesus? Are we ready to ask and listen?

I started thinking about this because I wanted to know more about Samuel - like what does his name mean? There’s some uncertainty… What we have is the story of how he came to be born. His mother, Hannah, hadn’t been able to have children - and it caused her real pain. In her desperation she’d been to pray at the sanctuary in Shiloh. She promised that if she had a child she would dedicate him to God’s service, but she was so upset that she wept as she prayed - and Eli the priest thought she was drunk. But she told him what she was asking for, he blessed her and she had a son. “She named him Samuel, for she said, ‘I have asked him of the Lord.’”

There’s some disagreement whether the name “Samuel” does mean “asked of the Lord.” But I wonder if it matters. The “el” bit of the name in Hebrew does mean God. And Hannah had certainly asked God for help - and she persisted with her prayer even when things seemed hopeless and people thought the wrong thing about her.

But there’s something more. In Hebrew the name Samuel is Shmuel. The first words used by Jews in prayer are Shema Israel… “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might…” They’re the words which Jesus uses when he sums up all the commandments of the Law. Love God… love your neighbour… but first, Hear - Listen.

Samuel’s mother had asked for his birth - she had listened for an answer from God. And Samuel needs to learn how to listen for the voice of God and to ask what he should say and do if he is to be faithful as his servant. Hannah learns the way of sacrifice - she gives up Samuel for the service of God. Samuel needs to learn how to say hard things. We discover that if we read on beyond the point at which today’s reading ends: Eli the priest needs to be told that things are not right in what he is doing - nor in the way his sons are living. And Samuel can only play his part if first he learns to listen - and to ask of God how he should act. So three times he hears his name called - three times he gets up and goes to Eli. But only then does he realise that it is God who is speaking to him - only when he asks does he find out what he must do.

The story of Samuel is one of those Old Testament stories which I learned as a child. Perhaps you did... But we need to see that it’s not merely a story from the past - 3,000 years old. It invites us to look at ourselves - what do we hear? It invites us to ask - what does God want from me?

As part of my prayer discipline this year, I’m trying each day to read part of the Rule of St. Benedict. It’s an ancient Rule drawn up in the middle of the 6^th Century for those monks who followed Benedict in the community life which he established. It’s a way of life still followed by many thousands of monks and nuns - but it has a still wider application to any Christian who wants to ask, how can I serve God and get on with other people? Actually that’s the whole point of the Rule - serve God and manage to live in harmony with other people, even the most irritating of people. The Rule has 73 chapters - but it’s also divided up so that you can read a short section each day and get through it in four months. The idea is that those who follow it should read it three times a year. We’ll see how I do…

But actually all I want to do now is tell you what the first word of the Rule is. It’s “Listen…” “Listen, child of God, to the guidance of your teacher…” That’s where we all need to start. Be faithful in this says Benedict, and you’ll realise his aim:

“… what we mean to establish is a school for the Lord’s service.”

Benedict sees that if we’re to grow as Christians we need to be faithful as disciples - and that starts by listening so that we may learn.

Today’s Gospel reading takes us to the first chapter of St. John’s Gospel. Jesus is calling his disciples. We’ve missed the call of the first three. They’re Andrew and another disciple whose name we don’t know. Jesus simply invites them to come and spend time with him - and they go… they listen. Then Andrew goes and gets his brother Simon and takes him along too. At the point we reach today, Jesus has found Philip and called him to follow him - that means to be a disciple, to listen and learn. And he does. It’s something that Philip wants to pass on, so he goes looking for Nathanael and asks him to come and meet Jesus. But Nathanael is doubtful - he wants to write Jesus off: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip has to persist: “Come and see.” It’s a simple encounter which brings Nathanael to recognise how God is at work in Jesus. He simply needs to place himself before Jesus. And then he realises how Jesus already knows him - Jesus is looking already into his heart.

How ready are we to make that encounter? - to be ready to be quiet and listen? The priest and psychoanalyst, Maggie Ross, has just published a book called, “Silence - a user’s guide.” She has her own way of living - as a hermit, not in a desert or out in the wilds, but at the top of a house in a city. It’s her way of trying to understand her life and the lives of others. What are we doing when we come to church? She says of herself:

“I go to the eucharist as often as I can find one that isn't just a lot of noise. This is extremely difficult to find; so often I have to settle for the least worst of the options.”

And she goes on:

“There are a lot of hungry people out there. The churches are full of noise. There is an idolatry of spiritual experience. The situation is dire.”

I think hers is a pretty extreme position. Hermits themselves are probably not the easiest people to live with - and that’s a good reason for them to be hermits. But there’s a valid point in what she says. Do we just go out looking for what is superficially attractive? Do we stop to ask ourselves what we are truly looking for? Have we already made up our minds - like Nathanael - as to what we want to find? Are we taken in by the words, the music, the warm feelings… what she calls “the noise”?

I hope people come here to St. Cuthbert’s / St. John’s and find warmth, music which they like and words which speak to them. But there’s that other element also which is so important - that I bring myself here to meet God.

What am I looking for? Who am I looking for? Am I ready to listen?

 

 

 (1 Samuel 3.1-10; John 1.43-51)