Feast of Bartholomew
24th August 2008

Theme: Phil the Evangelist

“If you expect me to believe in your Redeemer, you Christians will have to look a lot more Redeemed.” So famously said the great atheist philosopher of the 19 th century Friedreich Nietzsche, who just happened to be the son of a Lutheran pastor. So I guess his cynicism was learned from the inside.

What would Nietzsche make of the current crisis in the Anglican Communion over human sexuality? I’ve just returned from the Lambeth conference, where this vexed question stood as the elephant in the room behind all our conversations and relating. I was truly inspired by the way we bishops dealt with each other across the divide of our theology and world view. I’d like to think that if Friedreich had been in our midst, he might have found this outpouring of grace and Christian love truly inspiring.

At the same time I was deeply saddened by those on both right and left who stood outside of the Lambeth process and heaped criticism on their brothers and sisters in Christ. I found the ad hominem criticism of Archbishop Rowan of Canterbury particularly galling. Those on the right criticise him for failing to exercise on this one issue the sort of papal authority which he does not possess and which they themselves would deny him on any other issue. Those on the left accuse him of betrayal to the voice of conservatism because he seeks to take seriously the complexity of views which exist in the communion.

Nietzsche would smack his lips at this. There – I told you. They talk about love, these Christians. But put them under pressure and they’re just like the rest of us. Unredeemed and unredeemable. All this talk about a redeemer is just that – talk.

Douglas John Hall, emeritus Professor of Theology at McGill University in Canada wrote an autobiography called Bound and Free: A Theologian's Journey. He comments about different discoveries he made when he began to write:

If the first lesson in my autobiographical attempt was to convince me that I'd enjoyed an undeservedly meaningful existence, the second was even more illuminating: it was that I owe such happiness as I have had to one Source -namely, the sheer grace of God as it is mediated through the lives of other people. [pp. 29-30, italics in original]

Assuming that his journey of faith is typical, and I think it is, can’t we all look back and see God's grace being revealed to us and calling us through the lives of other people - people, as Hall describes them, who

are not public figures but ordinary folk -- old ladies and gentlemen of my youth, people in the various workplaces of my life, members of my one and only congregation, and, of course, my students and colleagues of more then four decades in academic life. Most of these people did not know they were giving me gifts of insight and support, affirmation and critical acumen, but were simply being who they were and doing what they do. [p. 30]

The Gospel of John, and especially today’s reading, is about being such people - mediators who invite others to Jesus. I want to concentrate for a moment on one such mediator - not Nathanael but rather his intermediary Philip.

Philip, we are told, has been found by Jesus, and called to be a disciple. Now I suspect that little word found conveys a whole lot more than mere chance discovery, but we’ll leave that for another day. Philip, in his turn, finds Nathanael, and tells him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth .” There are two parts to Philip's witness: Jesus is the fulfilment of scriptures, and Jesus is the son of Joseph from Nazareth

"Son of Joseph" would be the typical way to name Jesus. The same was done with Simon "son of John" in 1:42 . But where Jesus really comes from is a tension that runs throughout this gospel (see 6:42 ; 7:27 -28; 8:14 ; 9:29 -30; 19:9). We, the readers, have already been told in the prologue about Jesus' true origins: He is God and He comes from God. By "sight" he is the son of Joseph from Nazareth . By "faith" he is the Son who has come from God. Nathanael himself makes this transition when he confesses, after this encounter with Jesus: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!”

But his initial reaction to Philip’s witness is cynical doubt - “Can anything good come out of Nazareth ?”

Note the response of the evangelist Philip. He doesn’t engage in a passionate defence of the Gospel. He doesn’t argue or debate or browbeat. He doesn’t bible-bash. He shuns emotional blackmail, or the manipulation of guilt. Even though he is convinced that Jesus is the fulfilment of Scripture, the one who is Lord and Saviour, he resists the temptation to mount a case, to resort to rhetoric.

He simply invites Nathanael to look for himself. “Come and see.” Here is the paradigm of evangelism. The essence of Christian witness is to state what we have seen and believe and then to invite others to come and see. We can't argue people into the kingdom.

Come and see. How often do we issue that invitation to those with whom we are engaged – our family, our friends and acquaintances. We who have been touched by the grace of God, we who have experienced love, acceptance, forgiveness and joy in Christ. How often do we simply say – Come and see. If we are serious about our discipleship, if we are in Christ and Christ is in us, surely we want to share that joy and peace in believing.

Evangelism should be at the centre of our being. All too often we evade the call, because we have persuaded ourselves, or been persuaded by the tele-evangelists or the chattering classes that evangelism means manipulation into belief. But the simple assertion – I have found peace in Christ, and hope and a future - come and see – surely anyone of us can do that.

But, and here’s the challenge, what do people see if they come to us? What do they experience? Are we a people of prayer? Is our worship Christological, transformative, open and joyful? Is the Gospel proclaimed in word and deed? The German theologian Johann Baptist Metz poses a series of questions which we need to take to heart.

“Are we living as disciples, or do we just believe in discipleship and, under the cloak of this belief in discipleship, continue in our old ways, the same unchanging ways? Do we show real love, or do we just believe in love and, under the cloak of this belief in love, remain the same egoists and conformists we always have been? Do we share the sufferings of others, or do we just believe in this sharing, remaining under the cloak of a belief in “sympathy” as apathetic as ever?”

In the section of Hall’s book I referred to earlier, he takes up this challenge of what people might encounter if they come to church at our invitation expecting to find Christ. He puts the acid on us – each one of us – you and me:

Every one of us plays the role of giver, wittingly or unwittingly, in relation to all whom we meet. And if we know this about ourselves, we may be inspired to pay a good deal more attention than otherwise to the way that we are with one another, the things we say to one another, the deeds we do and leave undone. [p. 30]

What we do matters, as individuals and as a Christian community. The lives we lead, the choices we make, the things we say, what we do and what we fail to do – all this matters. We are called to be living witnesses. God’s call to us to be disciples should make a tangible difference, so that when we issue the invitation ‘Come and see’ there is to be found that which is transformative; that which points beyond us to the Christ who loves us into fullness of life. In this we are minded of the words of Archbishop Temple “the church is the only organization that exists for the benefit of non-members.”

What we do as a communion matters. Perhaps the greatest text of our commitment to Christ is the way we as a church manage our disputation. The present unseemly turmoil, with accusations of bad faith, personal invective, claims to sole possession of scripture and truth does us no credit. Jesus calls us to unity, not or our sake, but for witness to the world.

‘The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.’

Let us work and let us pray that we might ever more fully live the mission to which Christ calls us. So that when we say, Come and see, we may so look like a redeemed community that even Nietzsche might confess that there is something in following Christ which sets the church apart. That when folk look at us, the may look beyond us and into the face of the one whom we confess, with Nathanael, ‘You are the Son of God!’

T