Genesis 17:1-8; Psalm 105:4-11; John 8:51-59
A few years ago I started to think about how I wanted to live, what I wanted for myself and for others. What do I stand for, what do I hope to make manifest in the world? The best I could say was that I stand for the possibility of communities of people encountering God in freedom, curiosity, gratitude, and joy. So often it seems that we approach God without curiosity or freedom, but rather from a position of presumed judgment - as though life is a test and we have to know all the answers or go to hell.
Today’s reading reminds me that there are other blocks to curiosity.
Jesus makes one of those typical Johannine obscure remarks - “Whoever keeps my word will never see death.” Now, it’s not obvious to me what he means - but it’s sure intriguing!
His opponents aren’t intrigued. Instead, they dismiss his words as nonsense. They read them one way, in terms of the life they know, and it does sound absurd. So they are outraged. It escalates from there, when Jesus says “I am” before Abraham.
How different this encounter would be if they were curious! What it Jesus opened with a cryptic remark and they responded, “What do you mean?” “Tell me more.” “Can you show me?” When Jesus continues to his “I am,” they might ask again.
One of the tragedies of public discourse over the last thirty years is the decline of curiosity. This is most notable to me in politics, but long before it we were in religious camps or gender camps or racial camps or income or educational camps. Now it’s the way we conduct elections and the business of governing, so it’s more visible. And the cost is getting higher every day. We know what we think, and we’re confused by people who come at things from another angle, but rather than get curious we vilify. They must hate the country they’ve spent their life serving; or hate a group within it; or be so callous as to be inhuman; or be paid off by someone; or be deluded or ignorant.
What if we got curious?
Curiosity makes us vulnerable. We encounter ideas and people that make our own ground less certain. When our picture of the world gets more complicated, we can feel like we’re losing our balance. Just like Jesus’ opponents did.
But this story tells us of the cost of not being curious. Jesus’ opponents miss a great opportunity to learn more about what life means, what the promise means, who Jesus is, what God is like. Not being curious can cost some people their lives, as we wash our hands of them or lock them up. It can cost us our lives, as we miss the chance for fullness and connection.
Where on your Lenten journey might curiosity open a door? Where are you missing out by not asking questions?
Pray that we all might pause, ask, listen.
No comments:
Post a Comment