Who Is He? Who Am I? Who Are You? (Epiphany/Baptism of Jesus; John 1:35-51; January 7, 2018)

Who Is He? Who Am I? Who Are You?

Epiphany/Baptism of Jesus
John 1:35-51
January 7, 2018

Rev. John M. Caldwell, PhD
First United Methodist Church
Decorah, Iowa

In this morning's reading did you catch all the statements that had to do with identity?

Jesus walks past John and John says, "Look! The Lamb of God!"

Two disciples come to Jesus and call him Rabbi (that is, teacher. Actually, it means my teacher, but teacher is close enough).

Andrew goes to Peter and tells him that he has found Messiah (that is, Christ, that is, "the anointed"). When Andrew drags Peter to Jesus, Jesus says, "You are Simon, son of John. You will be called Cephas (that is, Peter, that is, well, the closest equivalent would be Rocky)."

Philip goes to Nathaniel and tells him that he has found "the one Moses wrote about." He is Jesus, Joseph's son, from Nazareth (which means Calmar). Nathaniel asks, "Can anything good come from Calmar?"

Jesus calls Nathaniel "...a genuine Israelite in whom there is no deceit."

Nathaniel calls Jesus God's Son and "the King of Israel."

Then Jesus refers to "the Human One." Is he talking about himself or someone else: the text does not say.

Over and over, this reading is concerned with the answer to the question "Who?" Who is Jesus? Who is Peter? Who is Nathaniel?

This theme has already been raised. From the very beginning of John's gospel we are directed to questions of identity. In some way "the Word" has come to us in Jesus who is also the "light." John is not the light, but comes "to testify concerning the light."

The Jewish leaders from Jerusalem question John closely about who he is:

--Who are you?
--I'm not the Christ
--Are you Elijah?
--I'm not.
--Are you the Prophet?
--No.
--Who are you then?
--I'm a voice.

The text isn't really terribly interested at this point in what Jesus is doing or even in what he saying. The question of identity overshadows everything else. Perhaps later the focus will shift, but for now it's on the "who?" question: Who is John? Who is Jesus? Who are his disciples?

Do you remember that, not long ago--two weeks, I think--I promised that I would offer what I am calling a "traumatic reading" of John's gospel because I am persuaded that (1) it was written for a community that had experienced a deep and on-going trauma. That's my first assumption. My second assumption is that (2) it is meaningful to speak of traumatized communities as well as traumatized individuals. For example, it is meaningful to say that our whole country experienced an injury on September 11, 2001. Third, (3) communities that go through trauma experience the same collection of symptoms that traumatized individuals experience. Finally, (4) John's gospel must be read through a perspective that foregrounds the human experience of trauma. It can be read from other points of view, but without taking trauma into consideration, John cannot be adequately understood. These will be my working assumptions for preaching the sixteen or so lessons from John between now and Easter.

One advantage that a traumatic reading of John gives us is that we know a good deal about trauma. We suspect that trauma tends to show similar traits whenever and wherever it happens. This means that we can use our current knowledge of trauma to better understand this writing that comes to us from "long ago in a galaxy far, far away."

One of the things that we know about trauma, especially if it's caused by deep and repetitive injury, is that traumatized people struggle to have a strong identity. For example, children who have been abused have a hard time knowing how they feel and what they want. They often base their feelings on the person abusing them. Families with abused children become fused together. And the children especially are con-fused about their own feelings. When I was a child I never knew how I felt in the morning until I got to the breakfast table with the rest of my family.

John's community had been traumatized by its split with the rest of the Jewish community. They have become followers of Jesus. This was enough of a deviation from the norms of their community that they found themselves on the outside looking in, accused of betraying their Jewish identity. They were hurt and angry. Like many folks who have been through something like that, they rejected their rejection while at the same time wondering deep down whether their accusers weren't right after all.

They had based their identity on their belonging to the Jewish community, valuing its values and following its norms. The relationships that they had formed--some of them relationships of a lifetime of membership--became the mirrors they needed to truly understand who they were, the context in which they forged their identities, and the foundation of their ability to make choices with integrity.

In losing those connections, they found themselves adrift and vulnerable to any huckster who might come along. In the letters of John we find that they did make a habit of following first one teacher and then another, as if they were looking for someone to fuse with, so they would know what they were feeling and thinking again. (This is how demagogues, abusive personalities who hook peoples' fears and hurts and use them to gain power, are able to do what they do.) It wasn't a healthy way to deal with the trauma, but it was easy and it's what they did.

Even as early as this chapter John offers the hint of a different strategy for knowing who they are. They can know who they are by knowing that they are Jesus-followers. And they can know what that means by knowing who this Jesus is that they are following. And they know who this Jesus is by understanding the cosmic context. They are children of light because they live their lives according to the light that is seen in Jesus who in turn is the light of the world which in turn is another metaphor for the Word through which God has created (and continues to create) the universe.

The president of the synagogue may have rejected the members of John's community, the rest of the synagogue may have done the same. Long-time friends and even members of their own families may have rejected them. It hurt. It was painful. It left them confused and flailing for a way forward.

But the truth, John suggests, is that none of this matters. The reality is that John's people are joined to a cosmic purpose, a story that is unfolding out of the heart of God. This is who they are. This is their identity. This, if they will allow it, can be the ground out of which they can act with integrity.

Christianity is not, finally, a set of beliefs. It is an identity that is grounded, not in what we believe nor even in what we do, but in who God is and what God is doing. What we believe and do grows out of that, not the other way around.

So how do we put our hands on that identity? How do we place ourselves, where do we stand to have that integrity? I suspect that John may have more to say about that, but in the meantime, I can make a couple of educated guesses.

First, I think we can rule out basing our identity and identity on the room we use when we gather to worship. A place space is made holy by the fact that the people of God are gathered there, not the other way around.

Second, we have these actions that have been with us from the very beginning, from early enough in our movement that they are alluded to more than once in John's gospel. At the font we are baptized. We do confess our faith and make our commitment public, but we are joined to the body of the followers of Jesus by this action that we share with all who have been or ever will be Jesus' followers. At the table we eat a meal. Okay, it's not a meal that fills us up exactly, not like a Christmas feast, anyway. But there is bread to eat and the fruit of the vine to drink. This is the meal that Jesus' followers have eaten together since the very beginning. When we eat this meal we eat with every one of them. At the font, at the table we are joined to the cosmic purposes of God at work in Jesus the light of the world.

That is who I am. That is who you are. That is who we are.

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