Come and See
John 1:29-39
January 15th, 2023
Rev. Rhonda Blevins, pastor
The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’ And I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?” They said to him, “Rabbi” (which translated means Teacher), “where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.” They came and saw where he was staying, and they remained with him that day. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon.
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I want to begin by asking a question: what’s made you curious lately?
For me it was something a friend was talking about at a kid’s birthday party yesterday. I told him I had a sermon to work on, and he said jokingly, “Just have ChatGPT write it for you.” I said, “What?” He explained, “ChatGPT is an artificial intelligence platform that was released back in November. It can write poetry, it can write computer code better than 50% of software developers, it can write entire original essays.”
So I got curious, wondering if ChatGPT will soon be the next Pastor of Chapel by the Sea. I decided that having ChatGPT write my entire sermon (while tempting) may not be my best course of action, but I was curious enough to see if Chat GPT could help me with one bit of research.
Now, when you “Google” something, Google directs you to websites where you can often find the answer you seek. ChatGPT is different. ChatGPT scans a gazillion web pages, and quickly assimilates its findings and types out, in front of your very eyes, an original paragraph or more, if you ask it to.
Because I was curious, and because I wanted to begin the message today thinking about curiosity together, I typed in to ChatGPT something I kind of remembered reading but didn’t remember clearly:
Does remaining curious contribute to aging well? Here’s what ChatGPT wrote:
There is some research that suggests that remaining curious may contribute to aging well. For example, studies have found that older adults who are more curious tend to have better cognitive function, including memory and problem-solving abilities, than those who are less curious. Additionally, research has found that older adults who are more curious tend to have a more positive outlook on life, which may contribute to overall well-being. Some studies also suggest that older adults who maintain their curiosity tend to have more fulfilling lives and are more likely to be engaged in activities that promote cognitive and social stimulation. However, it's important to note that these are correlation studies and more research is needed to establish causality.
Pretty impressive, right? The problem with ChatGPT—it lies. It sometimes gives you false information.
Still curious, I couldn’t help myself. I typed, “Please write an 1800-word sermon called "Come and See" on John 1:29-42. Voila! A sermon called “Come and See.” But it was only 563 words. And quite dull. (No comments, please.) I don’t think it’s going to put me out of a job any time soon. Sure, the sermon made some good points and offered clear interpretation. But there was no personal touch, no illustrations. And here’s my favorite part, at the end, ChatGPT offered a caveat: “Note: The above is a fictional sermon, as GPT-3 is a language model, it doesn't have personal beliefs or religion to preach.”
Apparently knowing about Jesus and knowing Jesus are two different things.
In our scripture lesson today, we learn about two curious men who didn’t just want to know about Jesus, they wanted to know Jesus.
So one day, Jesus was walking near the Jordan River, and prompted by John, the two men started following Jesus. Jesus turned and asked the curious men, “What are you looking for?”
I believe that Jesus gave up omniscience when he took on human form, so when he asked this question to the two men, chances are he didn’t know the answer.
“What are you looking for?” he asked them. “We’re looking for the restroom,” could have been their answer. Or on the other hand, “We’re looking for salvation and a cure to our existential angst,” could have been their reply. But instead, they answered Jesus’ question with a question of their own, “Uh, where are you staying?”
Well played, future disciples. Well played.
I’ve been around long enough to know that sometimes it’s best not to give a direct answer. Good politicians are masters at giving non-answers. Most of us are pretty good at it too. When the question, “What are you looking for?” is posed on a first date, most people know not to answer, “I’m looking to get married and have babies as soon as possible.” When the question, “What are you looking for?” is posed in an interview, most people know not to answer, “I’m looking for a six-figure salary with 300 vacation days and a 20-year contract.”
That’s just not how these things work. It’s not how faith works, either. In the same way that dating and job interviews are like a dance, faith is a dance. The Spirit of God is the music; we move to the unfolding melody set forth at the beginning of time.
So, the curious men asked Jesus, “Where are you staying?” That’s an innocuous question, among all the questions they could have asked. They could have asked Jesus where he stood on the controversial issues of the day. Depending on Jesus’ answer, they would have made a judgment on Jesus, placed him in a camp of “right or wrong,” hoisting their presuppositions upon him, and circumventing the dance and the process of learning about Jesus firsthand. The invitation Jesus offered, “What are you looking for?” is followed by a reciprocal invitation, “Where are you staying?” Both questions seek response and relationship. Simple, inviting questions. Did Jesus answer their question directly? “I’m staying at the Sand pearl.” Again, no. How did Jesus’ reply? “Come and see.” Appealing to the curiosity apparent in these two men, Jesus offers an invitation to more. And so the dance begins.
I love the metaphor of the dance to describe faith. So much of religion has become all about dogma:
· 1 Our Father
· 3 Hail Marys
· 4 spiritual laws
· 12 steps of . . . well . . . everything
· 613 laws of Judaism
When we codify faith like that, we sometimes lose the spirit of the faith. That’s what the Apostle Paul made clear to the church at Corinth in 1 Corinthians 3:4,6,17:
Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God . . . who has made us competent to be ministers of a new covenant, not of letter but of spirit; for the letter kills, but the Spirit gives life . . . and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.
Freedom! Religion without curiosity—religion that has all the answers, theology that fits neatly into a system, preachers who leave no room for mystery—that kind of faith isn’t a dance but a death sentence. Like Paul says—it kills.
But Jesus invited the two curious men to “come and see.” To enter the dance of relationship.
There’s a theological word that I’ve come to appreciate over the past several years. The word is “perichoresis”—“peri” means around and “choresis” means to turn or rotate, from which we get the word “choreography.” The term was first used in the 4th Century to describe first of all, the sacred dance between the two natures of Christ—his humanity and divinity. Later on, this was the metaphor used to describe the interaction of the three persons of the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit together in One sacred dance. Neither the word “Trinity” nor “perichoresis” are found in the Bible. They are used later by people trying to make sense out of the whole thing—to systematize the faith. That’s part of why the idea of the Trinity used to drive me crazy—no one could understand, let alone explain it. But then I moved away from dogma to the dance. Now I embrace the mystery of the Trinity—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit dancing together as One.
So Jesus said, “Come and see.” He offered them no spoiler. No “for three years you’ll travel with me and watch me teach and heal people and then I’ll make waves in Jerusalem and I’ll be executed by Roman crucifixion. What do you say? Come on!” No . . . the invitation wasn’t a blueprint for what would lie ahead . . . it was an invitation to take the next step in the dance to the unfolding melody of God.
Brennan Manning tells a story about a famous ethicist who went to Calcutta seeking Mother Teresa. For three months, he volunteered at “the house of the dying” to find out how best he could spend the rest of his life. Near the end of his time there, he spoke with Mother Teresa, and he asked her to pray for him. “What do you want me to pray for?” she replied. He then uttered the request he had carried thousands of miles: “Clarity. Pray that I have clarity.” “No,” Mother Teresa answered, “I will not do that.” When he asked her why, she said, “Clarity is the last thing you are clinging to and must let go of.” When the ethicist noted to Mother Teresa that she always seemed to have clarity, the very kind of clarity he was looking for, Mother Teresa laughed and said: “I have never had clarity; what I have always had is trust. So I will pray that you trust God.”[1]
The question Jesus poses, “What are you looking for?” leads into the invitation, “Come and see.” For the two men to take Jesus up on the invitation required curiosity and it required trust. They didn’t know where they were going. Would they walk 1 mile or 100? Would they sleep in luxury or squalor? What kind of travel companion would this Jesus be? Would he snore? Would he have really stinky feet? They didn’t have the answers to any of these questions. No clarity whatsoever. What they had, at least to some degree, was curiosity and trust. Engaging those two qualities, they took the next step.
So my friends, what are you looking for? What do you need? We all have needs. I pray your basic needs are covered, but what about those needs towards the top of Maslow’s hierarchy? Maybe you need love or belonging. Maybe you’re thirsty for recognition or accomplishment. Maybe you’re hungry for self-actualization—for arriving at your full potential. Can you name what you really want—the deep yearnings of your heart? I dare say it’s OK if you can’t. Even Mother Teresa didn’t have that kind of clarity.
The great Spanish poet, Antonio Machado offers insight for this mysterious journey:
Wanderer, your footsteps are the road, and nothing more;
wanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking.
By walking one makes the road,
and upon glancing behind one sees the path that never will be trod again.
Wanderer, there is no road—only wakes upon the sea.
“Come and see,” Jesus says to each of us. You don’t have to know the outcome. You simply need a willingness to take the next step. “Come and see” Jesus is saying to you. Aren’t you curious? Do you trust him enough to follow? Curiosity + trust = one great adventure of faith. Jesus bids you, “Come and see.” My final question for you today is this: will you?
[1]From Brennan Manning, Ruthless Trust, 2000.