The events in Tucson have created quite a national conversation over the last week. We grieve, of course, for the victims and families of those who were killed or injured. We struggle to find some reason for what has happened; we try to create some meaning for it. There are many who say that the coarseness of our political rhetoric is responsible, creating a climate of violence and hatred. They are right. In response there are those who say that it is the work of one deranged individual. They are right as well. These need not be conflicting truths. Individuals must be responsible for their actions, but those actions are always taken within the context of a community. Indeed we do need to raise the level of our discourse, to be more civil to each other. We do need to help identify and help those who are mentally ill in more effectively. But that is not enough to find meaning in what happened. I may be looking in the wrong places, but I have seen very little about where God might be in all of this, what our response as Christians should be. I think that the gospel for today can help us.
I think that today’s gospel gives us a model of the Christian life. It can be summed up in five words or phrases: Behold, Follow, Where are you staying?, Come and See, Go and Tell.
In today’s gospel John is with his own disciples the day after Jesus was baptized. He sees Jesus coming toward him, and tells his disciples, “Behold, here is the Lamb of God.” Here is something special, a surprise. “I did not know him” John says, “but I saw the Spirit descend like a dove.” I am sure that many people walked by Jesus that day, and probably saw nothing special. It took someone like John to give them the clue. Sometimes we need the help of others to see the parts of Jesus that are deep, surprising, and significant.
It all starts with beholding, looking. That suggests more than an accidental glance. It suggests that we are looking for something, that we need to find something, that we are lacking something. Andrew and the other disciple were looking for something from John; that’s why they were following him. But John said he was not the one, he wasn’t the answer, look over there at Jesus.
We ask this week, are we looking in the wrong places? Are we the people we thought we were? Is this violence and hatred part of who we are? The answer is “yes.” Each of us harbors at least a smudge of darkness in the corners where we would rather not look. It is called sin, and we all have it. In a larger sense we are all complicit in what happened in Tucson, by what we have done or by what we have left undone, by our own incivility or by our own neglect of those in trouble. But we are not defined by that smudge, that sin. It has been said that evil rides on the back of goodness, that evil cannot exist without goodness. But our goodness is the greater part of us. It is that goodness that produced the heroes who stopped the killing and helped the injured. It is that goodness that seeks the light which destroys the darkness, it is that goodness which seeks redemption from our sins.
If we are lucky, somebody will point to Jesus, and say, “Behold, here is the Lamb of God.” Who pointed us to Jesus? Who will point others to Jesus, if not us? We look into the face of Jesus, and we wonder, is this the answer? We may still be unsure, but we are intrigued. And so, like Andrew and the other disciple, we start to follow him for a little way, to see where he goes, where he might lead us. Is this the real thing? Perhaps we have all been too distracted by the politics, the winning and losing, to see that there is another way to follow.
At some point we not only follow Jesus, we encounter him. He turned and asked the disciples, “What are you looking for?” I suspect they were probably a little surprised and embarrassed, to be found following him, trying to be discreet. They could have said any number of things – Are you the one, the Messiah? Are you sent by God? Why do bad things happen to good people? What is your theology? But instead they ask, “Uh, Rabbi, where are you staying?” It sounds like one of those questions made up on the spot. But it is a good question. Perhaps they feel lost, homeless, at a loss for words.
This week we too feel a little confused and lost. We too might hem and haw if we are asked “What are you looking for?” Perhaps we are looking for answers: how could this happen? What does it mean? Perhaps we want a place to rest, a place to be comforted. Perhaps we most want a place to be safe, a place where we don’t need to be afraid. We don’t know what we expect from Jesus. But deep down we have a need that must be filled, a need for acceptance and love, a need for meaning, a need for hope. When we encounter Jesus, we must accept our own need for a place to stay.
Jesus doesn’t answer the disciples. He just says, “Come and See.” They call him rabbi, teacher, but he doesn’t say, “come and learn.” He offers them an invitation to discover him, to begin a relationship with him. It has been said that faith is something that must be discovered, not something that can be disclosed. And so the disciples went and discovered Jesus that afternoon. I wonder what that afternoon must have been like. I would love to have been a fly on the wall. What did they talk about, what did they do? We will never know. But I suspect that Jesus must have given them a new vision, a new way of looking at their lives, the possibility of new meaning and purpose. They must have sensed his charisma, his reservoir of love and acceptance and compassion. He gave them a place to stay.
We often say that one of the best things about being an Episcopalian is that we don’t have to leave our brains at the door, and that is true. But we also do not have to leave our hearts at the door, either. It is here, in the presence of Jesus and each other, where we can find love and acceptance, where we can find joy, and where we can find meaning and hope. That is what I think the disciples found that afternoon. I think that they heard stories of hope, that God had not abandoned them, that poverty and Roman oppression were not the final word. Here in church we hear the stories of hope too: God has not abandoned us, violence and hatred do not have the last word.
Whatever happened that afternoon, it changed Andrew. The first thing he did was to rush out to find his brother Simon. “Simon, Simon, we have found the Messiah!” No longer was Jesus a Rabbi, now he was the Messiah. How remarkable. The Jews had been waiting for the Messiah for centuries, and now he was here? Andrew was absolutely convinced. He could not contain himself, he had to rush out, to go and tell his brother Simon.
So there you have it. That’s our story. Behold, Follow, Where are you staying, Come and See, Go and Tell. It is the story we repeat every week in the Eucharist. We come to behold him in the bread and wine. We follow him into the mystery of God, letting our hearts be filled with his presence. That is where he stays with us, as we take him into our own bodies, where we are united with him in a deep relationship of love. We come and see and discover our own best selves that we are made for joy and hope. And then, we go and tell because we cannot contain that joy and love within ourselves, but must share it with our brothers and sisters. It is that love, God with us, that strengthens us and sustains us, even in such hard times.
Until the Kingdom of God comes in all its fullness, such tragedies as we had last week will happen. But we do not despair. Our Christian story continues, bringing us meaning and hope. Every week we repeat the cycle – behold, follow, where are you staying, come and see, go and tell – and every week we draw closer and closer in deeper relationship to the one who gives us life.
Behold, here is the Lamb of God.