Thank you for inviting me to be with you today. I live close by, but I’ve only been here once. And many of you, perhaps, have never been to the monastery across the river. I hope that, like Jesus and the disciples, we will get to know one another’s places of rest and renewal - and more than that, I hope that we will see God in our midst.
The Gospel reading today is a perfect snapshot of the whole Gospel of John, because of this focus on seeing. John refers to seeing ten times in this short passage. Seeing is a major category for him, in a way that it isn’t in the other Gospels. Giving witness to who Jesus is is another, and we see that here too. But I want to spend some time on this question of seeing.
The first disciples ask Jesus, “Where are you staying?”
That seems to me an odd first question to ask of a teacher. What they really want to know is likely to be something like “Who are you?” or “Are you the Messiah?” or even “What is John talking about when he calls you the Lamb of God?” They might want to ask, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” But no. They ask this. “Where are you staying?”
I suspect that this is cocktail party nerves. You’ve just met someone you’re intrigued by, maybe awed by. You don’t start with the big questions, the big desires. You start small and superficial. “Where do you live? What do you do for a living? Are you married?” So the first question is maybe not so odd.
But Jesus’ answer - that’s a little odd. “Come and see.” He could just give an address, or a name - “I’m staying at Jonah’s" - but he doesn’t. I suspect that John doesn’t want to privilege any of the disciples by making one of them the host. If someone already knows and welcomes Jesus, then these two aren’t the first disciples after all. So instead we get this cryptic “Come and see.”
Whatever they see, it changes their lives. Andrew sees enough to go get his brother. And Jesus sees in Peter a whole new future, even a new name.
The question of seeing is trickier than just ferreting out what they saw. We all know times when two people are looking at something but seeing very different things.
We all have friends who have married people we don’t like. We say, “I don’t know what she sees in him.” And it’s true. She sees something we don’t.
An old movie, Field of Dreams, elaborates on this. The protagonist hears a voice that tells him to plow under his corn and build a baseball field. His brother in law works for the bank that holds the mortgage to the property. Each night, dead ball players come out and play magnificent games, but the brother in law can’t see them. He’s been so emotionally walled off that he literally can’t see what his sister’s family sees. And then, in a crisis, his eyes are opened. He looks up and asks, “When did all these ballplayers get here?”
When MLK was alive, some saw a prophet and a deliverer. Others saw trouble. We’re looking at the same person, but seeing two different people.
I think that seeing Jesus is like that. Two people go to church. One feels surrounded by God’s love. The other likes the hymns and the people. Or two people walk in the neighborhood. One sees derelicts and bums. The other sees Christ, wounded and needy.
I don’t know why some people see Jesus and others don’t. I don’t know some see the Son of God and others see a wise teacher. It never works to just label the others as hard-hearted, or as soft in the head. Seeing is mysterious.
I think, though, there is some connection between seeing and loving. In Field of Dreams, the brother-in-law becomes able to see the ballplayers when one of them crosses out of the baseball field and becomes the doctor he was later in life. A girl is in danger of dying, and he chooses to save her. He can’t go back to the field once he leaves, so he has given his dream, and his continued life, to save a little girl. At that moment, the brother-in-law can see.
And what do our friends see in those people we don’t like? Whatever they see, they see through the eyes of love. The light that shines in those unlikable people is visible to the lover, and in that light they see the beloved for who she really is.
Too often in church we come expecting a God whose love is in fact judgment, a God we have to measure up to, a God we fear displeasing. In Jesus, though, God shines forth as love. But in order for us to see that shining love, we have to become lovers. We have to show up with the eyes of love if we are to see love.
What is true of literal sight is true for all the ways we apprehend the world and God. Do we read with the eyes of love? Do we listen with the ears of love? Do we speak with the voice of love, and touch with the gentle touch of love? By this I mean not only how we treat others, but how we perceive them treating us. When my friend corrects me, do I hear love or do I hear blame and shame? What am I listening for, looking for?
In John’s telling, the first disciples are already listening and looking for the Messiah. As much as we might like the unpredictability of Mark’s call story - “he called, and they immediately left everything” - John’s version is more real and helpful for us. For the big question, “Why did they follow?” is answered here. John pointed him out as the one they wanted. Jesus called, and they followed. They looked with the eyes of desire, and they saw the fulfillment of that desire.
Of course, early on they had no idea where that would take them. We never do. We fall in love, we start walking with someone, and then life happens. If the love ripens into commitment, it will always take us places we are afraid to go, and it will carry us through them.
Take time this week to approach God in love. Tell God all the things you tell your beloved, and listen for the whispers in return.
Don’t believe me? Come and see.
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