October 8, 2006 Sermon

No Guile
John 1:35-51

The book of Genesis introduces us to Jacob. His grandfather was Abraham; he had twelve sons (by two wives) who fathered the Twelve Tribes of Israel. You might think that as one of God’s chosen leaders Jacob was an admirable fellow. You would be partly wrong.

Jacob was a trickster. He and his mother schemed to steal the birthright, source of wealth and power in the family, from his older brother. We find other examples of Jacob’s dishonesty in Genesis. But we also find others tricking him. We find him wrestling with God. And we find him having an important dream.

It happened as Jacob wandered through a remote area. Night came on, so he stopped and, using a stone for a pillow, slept under the stars. He dreamed he saw a ladder that reached to heaven. Angels were climbing and descending on it. This is, of course, Jacob’s ladder. Still dreaming, Jacob saw God standing beside him, saying that all the land in which he now wandered would someday become his. His descendants would populate it. When he awoke, he said, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” And he built an altar there to worship God.

We flash forward about 1,700 years. In the verses we read from the Gospel of John, Jesus has just begun his public ministry. He has started doing some wandering of his own. He wanders past John the Baptist, who tells his followers, “Look! Here is the Lamb of God!” (Lamb of God refers to the sacrificial offering to take away sin required in the Jewish law.) John’s followers immediately begin following Jesus, instead. Andrew even gets his brother to come along.

The next day Jesus decides to walk into a neighboring territory. Along the way he passes Philip and invites him to follow. Philip pauses only long enough to get Nathaniel, and the two of them join the parade. But first Nathaniel delivers a little insult. When told that Jesus surely must be the Messiah and that he hails from Nazareth , he replies, “Can anything good come from Nazareth ?” This is not some gentle dig. It has racist and class snobbery undertones. A similar statement made here and now might go, “Can anything good come from Detroit ?”

Despite his doubts Nathaniel follows his brother. Jesus, seeing him approach, exclaims, “Here is a real Israelite in whom there is no guile!” He tells Nathaniel he will see angels ascending and descending, not on a ladder but on the Son of Man. Once we know that “Son of Man” refers to Jesus himself as the Messiah we should understand this odd statement. Nathaniel is an Israelite, a descendant of Jacob. Unlike Jacob he does not use language to trick others. Instead, he blurts out whatever is on his mind. That’s why Jesus says he is without guile. Yet like Jacob he will see angels going up and down between heaven and earth.

The message from the Gospel of John to us should now be clear: Follow Jesus and you will see visions. Follow Jesus and you will see the Messiah. Follow Jesus and you will see miracles. Follow Jesus without guile. Yet we struggle to follow Jesus at all.

Doing your duty can get tough—especially when you have failed to do it in the past. Last Tuesday they played the Orange Bowl. The two winningest coaches in major college history led the way: Bobby Bowden for Florida State and Joe Paterno for Penn State . The bands played, the cheerleaders jumped and yelled, the huge crystal bowl trophy sat on the sidelines, filled with oranges. Florida State ’s freshman quarterback, who is the same age as my daughter, played well against a tough defense. Penn State ’s player from Liberia , who only seven years ago dodged bullets as a child soldier kidnapped into service in the civil war there, laughed and jumped up into the stands into a bunch of his fellow students after the game. They passed him overhead like a rock star at a concert.

The game took three overtimes to decide. At 1:20 a.m. Kevin Kelly trotted out onto the field. At 5-7 and 175 pounds, Kelly was the smallest player on either team. He was the Penn State kicker, and he had already missed an extra point and two field goals. Imagine you kick for a football team. Your teammates do not really see you as a player. Many of them weigh twice as much as you. Their uniforms bear the dirt and chalk and blood of combat; yours is as clean as the moment you put it on. But when you do your thing every eye in the stadium—and in this case millions more watching on television—is pinned on you.

Penn State moved the football close enough for another field goal attempt in the third overtime. What must have gone through Coach Paterno’s head at that moment? What must have gone through Kevin Kelly’s? Finally his team ran a play designed not to gain yards, but to put the ball in the middle of the field, where a kicker has a better chance at making a try. Next came the order to get out there and try again. But once Kelly reached the huddle on-field, Florida State called a timeout just to make him think about it even more. Were those 60 seconds the longest or the shortest of Kevin Kelly’s short life?

When the referee blew his whistle to restart play; and the huge linemen, bent and weary from battle, lined up to block; and the opposing crowd chanted “Kelllllllllllly!!! Kelllllllllly!!!”; and the center snapped the ball back through his legs; and the man kneeling in front of him caught it and placed it just so; and Kevin Kelly ran forward and booted the ball; he sent it through the goalposts dead center. Then his mammoth teammates engulfed him, then put him on their shoulders, then the kid from Liberia leaped up into the stands, and the coaches—men long past retirement age—met at midfield to laugh and hug and talk for a very long time.

After all, it was just a college football game. Why did the people from Pennsylvania and Florida care so passionately about who won? Why was I still watching in the wee hours? Why did Kevin Kelly feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, and then the overwhelming joy of victory?

Why? They (we) all cared because so much work and dedication went into that one moment. For a little while we could all forget about our problems and enjoy the drama of it all. Far too often the little guy does not win. Far too often he doesn’t even get a chance to try to win. And far too often, we are that little guy.

How hard does it get to keep trotting out onto that field when you figure you’ll only fail again? And how much harder does it make it when we fear our failures will let others down—particularly when we look up to them as bigger and better than ourselves? We are little. Billions of us populate the world even as we speak. We are as grains of sand on the beach. How can God keep track of each one of us?

To all of which Jesus replies, “Come. Follow me.” What made Andrew, Simon, Philip and Nathaniel so exceptional that Jesus would choose them? Nothing. Not one thing. All that set them apart was that when called, they followed. When called, they trotted out onto the field.

When he awoke from his dream Jacob shook his head and said,

“ Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!” Exactly. God is in our lives. We walk right through God all the time and do not notice. But the Gospel of John tells us God notices. God calls us. All we have to do is follow when called. That can get hard at times, but the reward makes it worth it. The reward? Knowing you belong to God, no matter how small you might be. God loves you. Jesus himself is the proof. So keep trotting out on that field.