Leadership and Discipleship
John Wilkinson Third
Presbyterian Church January 16, 2005
John 1:29-42
This congregation’s ongoing relationship with Temple
B’rith Kodesh is unique in many ways, and something for
which I remain very grateful. This year’s exchange seems
particularly timely. Friday evening January 28, we are all invited
to dinner at the temple, followed by evening worship. Reservation
information is in this morning’s bulletin. On Sunday morning,
January 30, Rabbi Laurence Kotok will be with us, at the adult
education hour at 9:30 and for 10:45 worship.
Many of you are aware of tensions between the American Jewish
community and the Presbyterian Church, based in large part on
General Assembly decisions regarding Israel made this past summer.
Rabbi Kotok and I will not solve those two weekends from now,
but we will explore them.
One of the things we have learned in all this, to be sure,
is the clear and strong need to continue building relationships,
to strengthening them, so that when points of disagreement happen,
we will have a strong foundation upon which to address them.
So show up, if you are able, to Temple B’rith Kodesh.
And in the meantime, pray for the peace of Jerusalem, and everywhere.
******
The flow of the argument will go something like this: because
of whose we are, God’s, who we are becomes a transformed
reality altogether. It is not a generic moment by any means.
When an adult presents a child, or when an adult presents herself
or himself, it is not a generic moment but rather a very specific
one. And I, or any minister, is privileged to ask that name,
and in response say, “I baptize you in the name of…”
You. In the name of.
And the response to the question “what’s in a name”
is given powerful answer—twice, two times. In the giving
of the name at baptism, and in the baptizing in the name of
the triune God, everything is transformed and nothing will be
the same again.
It is an identity thing.
The second Helvetic confession says that “to be baptized
in the name of Christ is to be enrolled, entered, and received
into the covenant and family, and so into the inheritance of
the children of God, and in this life to be called into the
name of God, to be called a child of God.”
To be called into the name of God.
John’s gospel includes an exchange that happens over
two days. Like last week’s episode from Matthew’s
gospel, it begins with John the Baptist, and it begins with
John the Baptist recognizing who Jesus is. “Here is the
Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.”
What’s in a name? For John, at least, and therefore by
extension to all of us, a primary name for Jesus will be Lamb
of God. John’s testimony about Jesus continues. Jesus
offers no verbal response on this first day. Again, we are urged
not to psychoanalyze him, but something must be going on in
his emotions, in his spirit, in his sense of who he is. Lamb
of God. And we know what happens to lambs.
And yet Jesus shows up the next day. Again, John calls attention
to the Lamb of God. The response expands. Two of John’s
followers, two who had been hearing John talk about this one
who is to come, are intrigued. They follow Jesus, literally
follow him. Jesus stops in his tracks and stops them in their
tracks and stops us in our tracks and poses perhaps the most
pointed, profound question in all the Bible, perhaps the questions
that causes us the most trouble and provides us the most meaning.
“What are you looking for?” What are you looking
for, he asks them, us.
“We want to see where you are staying,” they replied,
which was true enough. But what they really wanted was to see
what this was all about. They talked for the course of the day.
At the end of the day, whatever it was that they were looking
for (to paraphrase a U2 song) had been found, as Andrew told
Simon, “we have found the Messiah.” And Andrew brought
Simon to Jesus and the rhythm is completed.
Jesus looked Simon over, sized him up—“You are
Simon, you are now named Peter.” What are you looking
for? Come and see. Take this new name. Come and follow me. It
is an extraordinary rhythm. It is terrifying as well, is it
not? This Jesus knows us more clearly, more truly, than we know
ourselves, knows our heart’s desire, our journey and our
destination.
That is to say, in one particular instance, Martin Luther King,
Jr.’s identity was established long before his vocational
journey took him where it did. We will spend this weekend hearing
his words echo from the scratchy recordings of four or five
decades ago, or images in black and white, literally and figuratively,
flickering on the screen. The words will be grand and sweeping,
and we will be both inspired by them and convicted by them,
because of the reality we know so well, which is not one of
the integration and harmony and reconciliation, but of division
yet, and injustice. We will hear those grand and sweeping words,
but we will do well to remember their context. Faith and family
and the church.
In an interview, King told the story of his first memory of
prejudice. He was fourteen years old, traveling with a teacher,
Mrs. Bradley, to an oratory contest. He won, of course, and
on the bus trip back to Atlanta the white bus driver ordered
his teacher and him to the back of the bus to make room for
white passengers. “That will never leave my memory,”
King said. “It was the angriest I have ever been in my
life.”
Years later, his daughter begged him to take her to the local
amusement park. “I had won some applause as a speaker,
but my tongue twisted and my speech stammered seeking to explain
to my six-year-old daughter why the invitation didn’t
include her, and others like her. One of the most painful experiences
I have ever faced,” he continued, “was to see her
tears when I told her that Funtown was closed to colored children.”
Our call, this weekend, as it is in every moment, is to build
a world in which that story will never, ever need to be told.
Martin Luther King’s call, his vocation, could never been
that of Nobel Peace Prize winner, civil rights leader, spokesperson
for a movement. But it could have been this, and was, follower
of the lamb, disciple of Christ, child of God. Everything else
flowed from that. The one who said he wanted to be known as
“drum major for justice” was just that, but only
because he was nurtured into that role through the gift of his
faith and the formation provided by the community of faith.
We must remember that.
We must remember first of all that children learn what they
are taught, just as we do. And just as we have been nurtured
into the vision that we are a child of God, so must we nurture
the vision that all are children of God, to our children and
to all of us. I am afraid that Dr. King, and surely the one
he sought to follow, would say that we are not doing a very
good job of that these days. Whether it is the way that American
Jews relate to American Presbyterians, or black and white Americans
relate, or Christians with Muslims or Easterners with Westerners,
or red staters and blue staters, the vision identified by Jonathan
Sacks as “the dignity of difference” and by Martin
Luther King, Jr. as the dream that in places like Alabama, and
dare we add Rochester, New York, that “little black boys
and black girls will be able to join hands with little white
boys and white girls as sisters and brothers,” is not
being realized.
And it must be realized. It must be realized by us. We, who
have been intrigued by this one, intrigued enough to follow.
We have heard his question, what you looking for. We have answered
it twice—once for ourselves and once for the world in
which we live. We have answered it: something more, something
new, something different, something better. We have answered
it, and Jesus says come and see and follow me.
It is a favorite new hymn—
“Will you come and follow me if I but call your name.”
“Will you go where you don’t know and never be the
same.”
Will you let my love be shown—
Will you let my name be known—
Will you let my life be grown in you and you in me?”
Jesus says come and see and follow me. He gives us a new name,
child of God. And we follow. That is the promise we are given.
That is the promise we are called to proclaim to one another
and to teach to our children.
“He is the way, “ Auden wrote.
“He is the Way.
Follow Him through the Land of Unlikeness;
You will see rare hearts, and have unique adventures.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked. Come and
see. Follow me, child of God, follow me. And never be the same.
Amen.
