Text: John 1:43-51 Revised Standard Version (RSV)
Jesus Calls Philip and Nathanael
43 The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. And he found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.” 44 Now Philip was from Beth-sa′ida, the city of Andrew and Peter. 45 Philip found Nathan′a-el, and said to him, “We have found him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph.” 46 Nathan′a-el said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” 47 Jesus saw Nathan′a-el coming to him, and said of him, “Behold, an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile!” 48 Nathan′a-el said to him, “How do you know me?” Jesus answered him, “Before Philip called you, when you were under the fig tree, I saw you.” 49 Nathan′a-el answered him, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” 50 Jesus answered him, “Because I said to you, I saw you under the fig tree, do you believe? You shall see greater things than these.” 51 And he said to him, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will see heaven opened, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man.”
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” We don’t often read sarcastic comments like this in the New Testament, so it’s particularly striking when we do.
Could it be that Nazareth didn’t have a very good reputation? Was it because Nazareth was somehow known to be a backward place? Nowhere in the Old Testament was there any mention whatsoever that the Messiah would come from such a small, insignificant little village. It was supposedly a simple place full of simple people.
And yet, history shows us that greatness comes from simple people in simple places more often than we might think.
“Can anything good come out of … Omaha?”
“Frederick Austerlitz was born in Omaha. He went to Hollywood with stars in his eyes. He landed a film test in 1933; the director’s evaluation of his talent read: ‘Can’t act! Slightly bald! Can dance a little.’ A sophisticated pundit might have quipped: ‘So what did you expect from the cornfields of Nebraska!’ For years, the memo of Frederick’s test hung above the fireplace in his Beverly Hills home. He was now Fred Astaire, a Hollywood legend. President Ronald Reagan eulogized him as the ‘ultimate dancer…who made things look so easy.’”[1] But, in order to “make things look so easy,” Astaire worked ceaselessly and tirelessly for decades.
“Can anything good come out of Winterset, Iowa?” Yes – that’s the home town of John Wayne, “The Duke.”
“Can anything good come out of Derry, New Hampshire?” Sure – that’s the hometown of Alan B. Shepard, one of the pioneers of space flight.
“Can anything good come out of Millville, Indiana, or Dayton, Ohio?” Yes – those are the birthplaces of Wilbur and Orville Wright, respectively.
“Can anything good come out of Eisleben, Germany?” Sure – that’s the birthplace of Martin Luther. Even today, Eisleben is really only remarkable because it is where Luther was born. Back when Luther was born there in 1483, it had very little to distinguish it from the next village over.
Nathanael himself was from the little village of Cana, which we only remember today because that’s where Jesus performed his first miracle.
So, great things, and great people, it seems, can come from anywhere.
But what I really wonder about is just what kind of life Nathanael had led up to the point when Philip told him about Jesus. It often happens that those who are the most sarcastic are the ones whose hopes and dreams have been dashed one too many times. Was Nathanael so sarcastic because he had had more than his share of disappointments in his life? Maybe he’d “bet the farm” once too often on a “sure thing” that had soon blown up in his face. Maybe he’d been unlucky in love. Maybe he had seen people get ahead who – at least as far as he was concerned – didn’t deserve to. Maybe he felt that he had never gotten the breaks he deserved. For whatever reason, he was no longer willing to get excited at the drop of a hat just because his friends did. So when Philip ran up to him and said, “We have found him of whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph,” Nathanael just rolled his eyes and maybe said the Aramaic equivalent of “yeah, right.” In any case, he was not too inclined to believe what Philip was saying. He wasn’t buying it. “Once bitten, twice shy,” as they say.
And, boy, don’t we understand that? Every one of us has, at one time or another, “suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” as Shakespeare put it – whether it started as children, when one or another of our siblings received preferential treatment from our parents; or in school, when we never seemed to be called on to answer a question, even though we had our hands raised; or at work when our contributions not only were not recognized, but the credit for them was given to someone who hadn’t done the work. These things are common; so common, in fact, that they have a collective name: The Human Condition. But hopefully, somewhere along the line, something happens to help us get beyond that sense of hurt and injury – and, more often than not, that “something” is a person.
For Nathanael, that person was Philip. When Nathanael makes his caustic statement, Philip doesn’t argue. He lets Nathanael vent, and then says simply, “Come and see.”
Those three words changed Nathanael’s life. He – maybe reluctantly – goes with his friend to see this Nazarene, and he does see for himself, and experiences for himself, what Philip was talking about. On the spot, Nathanael becomes a disciple, and is later counted among the Apostles. According to some researchers, Nathanael and Bartholomew are the same person. According to others, Nathanael was not Bartholomew, and went as far as India, preaching the Good News, where he died. I like that better. But, in any case, Nathanael was transformed in an instant from a bitter skeptic to a true believer – by three little words: “Come and see.”
William Barclay tells us that “[n]ot very many people have been argued into Christianity. Often our arguments do more harm than good. The only way to convince people of the supremacy of Christ is to confront them with Christ. On the whole, it is not argumentative and philosophical preaching and teaching which have won men and women for Christ; it is the presentation of the story of the cross.”[2]
In other words, don’t hand someone a Bible; be the Bible for that someone. It’s not as hard as you might think. Kind actions go miles further than just kind words. Sometimes the best thing you can say is nothing at all. And at other times, the best thing you can say is “come and see.”
Barclay also recounts the following story, which is too good not to share:
“[T]owards the end of the nineteenth century, Thomas Huxley, the great agnostic, was a member of a house party at a country house. Sunday came round, and most of the members prepared to go to church; but, very naturally, Huxley did not propose to go. Huxley approached a man known to have a simple and radiant Christian faith. He said to him: ‘Suppose you don’t go to church today. Suppose you stay at home and you tell me quite simply what your Christian faith means to you and why you are a Christian.’ ‘But,’ said the man, ‘you could demolish my arguments in an instant. I’m not clever enough to argue with you.’ Huxley said gently: ‘I don’t want to argue with you; I just want you to tell me simply what this Christ means to you.’ The man stayed at home and told Huxley most simply of his faith. When he had finished there were tears in the great agnostic’s eyes. ‘I would give my right hand,’ he said, ‘if only I could believe that.’
“It was not clever argument that touched Huxley’s heart. He could have dealt efficiently and devastatingly with any argument that that simple, uncomplicated Christian was likely to have produced; but the simple presentation of Christ went straight to his heart. The best argument is to say to people: ‘Come and see.’”[3]
Huxley, though stirred by the man’s testimony, ultimately could not take that final step of faith – he was too locked into a world of logic and rationality. Many have tried to use logic and rational thought to defend Christianity – notably Thomas Aquinas; and they have done so with varying degrees of success. It is a necessary enterprise, too.
But the hearts of the Huxleys of the world will never be won over by logic, because Christianity is at its heart the Mystery of Love. God is not a computer (something which should cause anyone to rejoice who’s had to deal with an incorrect phone bill!). God is our Father, the one who became Jesus to die on the cross to redeem us. As our Communion liturgy puts it:
Therefore we proclaim the Mystery of Faith:
Christ has died.
Christ has risen.
Christ will come again.
No logical system can compute that. Ultimately, it’s not theological acumen that wins the day, but the invitation to others to “come and see” for themselves, to experience for themselves, what this fellowship in Christ that we share is all about.
Let us invite others to “Come and see”!
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
[1] Link, Mark, S.J., Jesus: A Contemporary Walk with Jesus, Allen, TX, Resources for Christian Living, 1999
[2] Barclay, William, The Gospel of John, Volume One, The New Daily Study Bible, Louisville, KY, Westminster John Knox Press, 2001, p. 108
[3] Ibid., pp. 108-109