Homilies by Rev. Andrew Collis unless indicated otherwise.
‘We would like to see Jesus’
In chapter 1 of the Fourth Gospel we read about two of John the Baptisers’ disciples choosing to follow Jesus. “When Jesus turned around and noticed them following, he asked them, ‘What are you looking for?’ They replied, ‘Rabbi’ which means ‘Teacher’ ‘where are you staying?’ ‘Come and see,’ Jesus answered.” Soon after, in the same chapter, we read that “Philip sought out Nathanael and said to him, ‘We’ve found the One that Moses spoke of in the Law, the One about whom the prophets wrote: Jesus of Nazareth, son of Mary and Joseph.’ ‘From Nazareth?’ said Nathanael. ‘Can anything good come from Nazareth?’ ‘Come and see,’ replied Philip” ...
Today’s text from John 12 suggests that it is only when the Greeks, via Philip and Andrew, ask to see him that Jesus recognises the advent of the “hour”. It is the hour of glorification, accomplished climactically on the cross but anticipated in the words and works of Jesus’ ministry (2:11). “Please, we would like to see Jesus.” “Please, we would like to see Compassion/Courage/Grace/Truth/Peace/Love/Dignity ” Philip models a faithful response to seekers of all cultures: “Come and see.”God be with you
Riding my bike along King Street in Newtown, I stopped at the St Constantine and Helen Greek Orthodox Church. There are usually stalls out the front on Saturdays and I was keen to look at the icons on display. I didn’t anticipate the encounter I’d have with the stallholder. “Choose the ones you like and I’ll make a special price,” said Philip the stallholder. “Philip? I’m Andrew!” I said. “Take some more this one is St Catarina (Catherine), she was a princess who gave up everything to follow Jesus
This one is St Nicholas.” “St Nicholas-
I was thinking that today I’d lead the worship from the children’s table, with the help of the children, and that we’d reflect on times we’ve been invited to come and see something or someone we’d only ever heard about. What’s it like to see for ourselves? What’s it like to explore a new place? What’s it like to visit people in their own home or in their home city or country? How much more, then, might we learn? How much better might we understand?
One commentator has described the ultimate goal of Christ’s work as “the pentecostalisation of the world” (Sergius Bulgakov) the transfiguration of all things under the light of the risen crucified one, who shines with the glory of Abba God in the joy of the Holy Spirit. Uniting Church theologian, Ben Myers, writes: “Let us be alert and discerning, so that we can see that pentecostalisation wherever it is at work in our world, and wherever we see it, let us point it out to others, calling people in our local communities to ‘Come and see!’”
Myers goes on in the same Spirit as Philip the disciple/stallholder: “Finally though, and most importantly, we must never forget that God’s glory has a particular shape and form. Christ’s cross is his glory; his humiliation is his exaltation. The hidden depth of creation is disclosed not in strong, successful, admirable lives, but incruciformlives. The church is that community that takes upon itself the form of the cross Christ’s glory will flame out from among us when with glad hearts we stoop down, take up the cross, and follow him.”
Disciple and writer, Naomi Ward, has shared some glorious prose poetry inspired by time spent with an ailing aunt. One prose poem in particular is pertinent to our theme two people, each in their own ways desiring to see Jesus: “Please, we would like to see Compassion/Courage/Grace/Truth/Peace/Love/Dignity ”
“Come in,” she says in a sweet but commanding voice, “Hello was I expecting you?” Before I can answer “Not to worry, it’s so good to see you.” We proceed to the table. “I’m all in a muddle here, maybe you can help me sort it out.” Her radiant smile, warmth and glittering blue eyes always lift my spirit. I feel loved and appreciated. “Now, what do you think we could throw out?” she says proudly. “I think we have a fat chance of that you don’t like throwing anything out,” I say. She laughs. I point to a shelf of jars. “How about we throw out these jars?” “No!” she cries, “I might like to make jam.” I respond with, “How are you going to make jam without a stove?” She laughs again. “Well, that’s a thought.” I proceed to gather a bundle of old loose envelopes lying on the table. “You can’t throw those out. You never throw paper out you never know when you might need it.” At this point I say, “I know, why don’t we have a cup of tea?” “What a good idea,” she says. We sit down having a cuppa and a stale biscuit that I look at curiously, hoping not to see green furry bits. She peers out the balcony door. “Look at those trees. Aren’t they beautiful? They look so strong. Let’s go and find them one day.”
I really like those concluding sentences we can really see the older woman and empathise with her dementia as well as her hopefulness, her glad heart, in the company of her niece.She peers out the balcony door. “Look at those trees. Aren’t they beautiful? They look so strong. Let’s go and find them one day.”
Is there not something of Christ reality and redemption shown and seen here?
It’s a scenario reminiscent of a gathering at the NCIE (National Centre of Indigenous Excellence) organised by the Gamarada Aboriginal men’s group. Following a screening of the filmMad Bastards(directed by Brendan Fletcher, 2009), the film’s male lead, Dean Daley-
This morning you’ll be invited to come to the altar-
I’ll just say this before finishing. Icons are traditionally distinguished from idols in that icons allow a seeing through, a seeing into the heavens (the deeper parts of creation). Idols, by contrast, arrest or block vision, drawing attention to themselves. We mightlook uponidols. Wesee intoicons. Which may help to explain why icons are traditionally “written” with a certaincrudityor plainness. Icons are windows onto glory just as the balcony door in Naomi’s prose poem is a window onto the trees that are beautiful and strong just as the movie projected on a screen is a window onto a world where men learn of Christ-
Jesus (our high priest, our mediator) is an icon in that divine love is shown in and through his fully human life. Of course, it is always possible to make an idol of Christ if we merely admire or venerate his person, his personality, his cultural or political particularity without an appropriation in our own lives, without, that is, seeing onto the glory in which we too have our being (in which all fellow creatures have their being). We might refer to an inter-
Idols tend to reduce the wonder of life and God to categories of our own making and mastery. There’s always something surprising and expansive about icons (Louis-
Let’s complete the homily together. You’re invited to come to the altar-