Pointing Jesus Out

We have arrived again in what is sometimes called “Ordinary Time”– and what our tradition calls “the epiphany season.” The liturgical color is green, and like the later green season after Pentecost, we are invited to cultivate and grow our understanding of Jesus. However, it's hard not to sense in the readings for this week at least, just a glimmer of light from the Christmas Season.

The readings have an airy, almost illuminating feel. It feels as if we are at the start of a new journey.

Notice that in our Old Testament reading that the Lord promises that "a light will be given to the nations" and that St. Paul promises "enrichment" and "strengthening" in Christ. This morning's Gospel text comes hot on the heels of the astonishing statement, "The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world." Here we are just a few verses later, and we've yet to shake off the starry-eyed hopefulness that all beginnings of great adventures have.

In our Gospel text, we find John the Baptist doing what he always seems to be doing–pointing. John the Baptist is always heralding something, isn't he? He's always pointing ahead (usually away from himself and toward Jesus.) So, John must have been teaching or speaking with some of his disciples. And Jesus walks by, and right on cue, John, ever the herald, announces, "Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"

Later, John the Baptist also calls Jesus the "Son of God." Others in our text name him "Rabbi" or "Messiah." Messiah is an interesting one! It means "anointed one," and when you translate the Hebrew word "Messiah" into greek, it becomes "Christ." But anointing, funnily enough, is kinda how God points someone out. All the Kings of Israel were anointed with oil to signify that they were appointed by God. (See what I did there?) And often, when someone is baptized, we'll do the same thing, won't we? We will anoint them with oil to mark them as one of God's children. We do it again in Confirmation as they affirm their baptismal covenant.

So, basically, what I'm getting at, is Jesus is getting pointed at a lot this week. Pointed out by God and by John the Baptist because John knows who Jesus really is. In other words, John knows Jesus is the one that God has appointed.

But, I think that the actual story in this text should be more surprising to us. It would have been to a first-century Jewish reader. To think that God is someone you could just pick out, get a glimpse of, or spy from across the room. This same chapter from John's Gospel has just finished telling us that Jesus is the literal "Word of God," the "maker of everything," the "source of life," and the "light of all mankind." And a few sentences later, it tells us that this same Jesus could walk past you, and it's possible not to recognize him for who he is.

I'm absolutely terrible at recognizing celebrities. But, when Dagny and I lived in Dallas, we liked this Indian buffet place, Kalachandji's. It was a fascinating restaurant because it was situated inside a Hare Krishna temple, and occasionally, your server would be a monk. However, Dagny and I primarily visited for inexpensive and delicious vegetarian meals. On one occasion, one of the Hare Krishna monks came to our table to ask us if we'd like dessert, but the whole time he was beaming ear-to-ear. You might assume it was just his religious zeal, but no. He leaned in close. Mind you, he wore bright orange robes, had a shaved head except for a little tuft on the back of his head, and he leaned in close and said, "Nelly Furtado is at that table over there." You might not know who Nelly Furtado is, but you might know her song "I'm like a Bird." Anyway, he pulls out one of her CDs from deep within his robe and adds, "I'm going to try and get her autograph." Evidently, he had escaped sometime during his shift, gone to his monk's quarters, retrieved this Nelly Furtado CD, and came back just in time that no one was the wiser.

But, if you were in first-century Palistine, and happened to spot Jesus of Nazareth from across the restaurant, you could do the same thing. You could say, "there goes the source of life right there." And you'd be right! Or maybe, like a good Lutheran, you might shout, "Behold, the Lamb of God!"

We actually say it a lot, don't we? Each week in our liturgy, we say that same thing "Behold the Lamb of God!", or at this service, we'll sing it "Lamb of God, You take away the sin of the world; have mercy on us."

However, I'm unsure if we hear it quite the same way Jews in ancient Israel would have. Today, when you hear that Jesus is the Lamb of God, you might think it's because he's docile like a little lamb. An old Methodist hymn summarizes this view...

Lamb of God, I look to Thee;
Thou shalt my Example be;
Thou art gentle, meek, and mild;
Thou wast once a little child.

It’s sweet. But that's not what would have come to mind for an ancient Israelite. They would have immediately understood it differently–they would have thought of lambs slaughtered each Passover, the Levitical system of priestly animal sacrifice, and the temple. And it wasn't just the ancient Jewish religion that practiced sacrifice. It was absolutely everyone. Animal sacrifice was everywhere in Greek and Roman religions and basically all ancient religions. Ancient people, it seems, innately knew that whatever was wrong with us and the world could only be resolved through sacrifice.

It's kinda grim, isn't it? I guess John the Baptist was a pretty direct and to-the-point kinda guy. And we follow his example. Immediately after Jesus shows up here in communion each week. When ordinary bread and wine becomes for us the Body and Blood of Christ. We say, "Look, there's Jesus, The Son of God who became flesh, who died to take on our Sin, and offers himself for us again." There’s the Lamb of God. So, sorry to say, tucked away in these lovely, hopeful readings, we find the death of Christ hidden amongst all the excitement. That's the bad news. The good news is he dies for us, for you. He dies and offers us his Body and Blood so that, as the Prophet Isaiah says, “His salvation would reach to the end of the earth.” That includes all of us; that includes you.

I wonder whether we see him. Do we truly notice him when he shows up in our lives? Like a Nelly Furtado fan at a restaurant, do we recognize him? And do we work up the courage to approach him? Like John the Baptist, could we point him out to our friends? Looking back on just this last year, I know I sometimes completely missed his light and the strength that he offers. I wonder how we can be more on the lookout for Jesus this year.

I pray that all of us this year will learn to better recognize Jesus, to point Him out when we can, and to trust in all he has done for us, especially in what he has done in his death on the cross and in his glorious resurrection. I hope that even when it’s hardest for us to see him at work out there in the world, at those times when we most need strength, we take comfort in knowing that, “here,” in this place, “is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!"