Togethering

I occasionally meet with a group of teachers, small group leaders, and others interested in presenting the bible. On a recent occasion, we focused on the eleventh chapter of the Gospel of John. We discuss attentiveness to introduction and conclusion. Repetition and transition. Stated audience and purpose. Contrast and comparison. People and place. Narrative and discourse. Style and structure.

We talk about genre label and sitz im leben. Above all we emphasize context. Broad context, narrow context, historical context. Even a quick glance reveals that chapter eleven ends and begins some interesting contextual discussion. A number of interesting ideas gather here in chapter eleven, and not by accident. For starters, it is home of the seventh sign in the Gospel.

Interestingly, there are also seven declarations of Jesus’ “I am” with a predicate. (For broader context, it could be interesting to look at the significance of seven in another book attributed to John – Revelation). These are important because they help us to realize who Jesus is and what he is up to. The bread of life, the light of the world, the gate for the sheep, the good shepherd, the resurrection and the life, the way and the truth and the life, the true vine. One of them is found here in chapter 11.

The “I am” may remind us of a prince of Egypt, a burning bush, a conversation where we learn the most personal name for God. We find that this personal name echoes throughout the pages of John.

These are significant because they imply that Jesus calls dibs on the name of God for himself. They also share insight into John’s thoughts about Jesus. At first glance, John appears to want us looking at Jesus in light of these statements. But then, he could be reminding us that we do not have Jesus figured out. Just when we think we have discovered who he is, we get news that he is more than we knew before. John isn’t as interested in telling us anything new about Jesus as he is in pulling us into relationship with Jesus.

I initiate further discussion of context with the introduction of “the one whom Jesus loved.” We first find “the one you love” in 11.3. It follows again in 11.5. And again to get the point across in 11.36, “how he loved him.” After a reading of John 11, we know that Jesus loves Lazarus.

Interestingly, in chapter 13 we again run into a disciple whom Jesus loved. Without jumping the gun, it is possible that at least some early readers immediately assumed that this one whom Jesus loved was Lazarus. After all, he had already been introduced to us as “the one you love.”

Perhaps this is especially true after reading chapter 12 where Lazarus is reclining at a table with Jesus. This is exactly where we find the disciple Jesus loved in chapter 13. This at least prompts the question whether Lazarus could again be the one Jesus loved (as he was in chapter 11).

Another point of interest is that in chapter 12 Jesus is anointed on the feet. In chapter 13 Jesus washes the feet of others. Ben Witherington notes that both share in common a foreshadowing of Jesus’ coming death. In chapter 12 Lazarus is present. In chapter 13 the beloved disciple is present.

The multitude learned that Jesus was in Bethany. They came to see for themselves Jesus and the one he had raised from the dead – Lazarus. Chapter eleven tells us that the chief priests were planning to kill Jesus. In chapter twelve they begin plotting to kill Lazarus also “because on account of him many of the Jews… were believing in Jesus.” At the very least, remembering that they also wanted Jesus dead, we notice a connection between Lazarus and his Lord at this point.

The unnamed other disciple shows up again with Simon Peter. This other disciple is known by the high priest. Witherington notes that this would be problematic if he were a Galilean fisherman. On the other hand, there were Jewish officials at Lazarus’s funeral. Being known by Caiphas’s entourage could have given him access to the high priest’s house.

At the cross, we again find “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” On this occasion, the dying Jesus speaks to two unnamed disciples. Both are identified by their relationship to Jesus; his mother and the disciple he loves. If the beloved disciple took Jesus’ mother “unto his own” home this likely suggests a location closer than Galilee. (Perhaps Bethany, home of Lazarus)? After all, both are present again in the next chapter.

Before the Gospel concludes, we again find “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” On Easter Sunday, he “saw the linen wrappings… and the facecloth.” There is another place, just one other place, where these are things are found in the Gospel.

It was Lazarus that was “bound hand and foot with wrappings; and his face was wrapped around with a cloth.” In any case, when this unnamed disciple entered the empty tomb of Jesus “he saw, and believed.” I can not help but think that if this is Lazarus he is linked even closer with his Lord.

It is obvious that the signs are demonstrated that you might believe. The introductions of Jesus reveal not only who he is but what he is up to. In John, even the beloved disciple progresses to the point where “he saw, and believed.” We might say that he discovers who Jesus is and what he is up too. John desires that we do the same.

There is no such thing as boredom. There are only boring people. Efficiency is over-rated. Hurry is a problem I can live without. Busy is only for those who give the unimportant far too much credibility. They say there is a short cut – who cares what they say!

A clever artist is giving me advice. “I'm trying to drag this out/Taking the scenic route.” I think I know where there is a waterfall. An overlook. Did I hear peepers? An owl? Was that a baby fox? Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a great spot to watch a lunar eclipse.

If we drive just a little further maybe we can get a closer look at the stars. If we find the right spot we’ll just set out some chairs and cheer the sky. On second thought, let’s just hang a hammock and get really comfortable.

We are supposed to be where? When? First, we’ll find some sassafras. Smell the mint in that meadow on the mountain. More advice, “Baby, we could get lost/We have another state to cross.” Surely there is time for a short ride, or to climb that rock formation over there, let’s at least try and walk that log crossing the creek.

We’ll play a game. Take a quiz. Share secrets. Pull over and balance candy on our nose. Afterward, can you tell that story again …I love that one part. Then we can take a casual stroll up Everest. Build a raft and float to Atlantis. Hang glide to Venus.

We have to be where at what time? First, let’s eat. How about shish-kabobs? First, we’ll grow the veggies. And the chicken. While waiting, we’ll just laugh. Out loud and uncontrollable. We will be laughing. For no reason. Afterward, let’s follow a rainbow to the pot of gold. And then we will catch the white stag and make a wish.

Can we stop at the spring for a drink? We should get out and dance. Jig. Promenade. How about a climb on rooftops? Can we explore a castle? Dress up and pretend to be someone else? We’ll be super heroes. Maybe pirates! Hold a stake out! Spies are us.

Did we take a wrong turn again – shucks. Let’s stop and hide something. We’ll come back later to see if we can find it. Better bring a flashlight. Coming down the mountain in the dark can be tricky. Now, where is that treasure?

We are expected to be where? When? First, lets go on up to that house overlooking the valley and sit in the window sill. Maybe we’ll watch a lightning storm. Or we can just lie on the wall and wait for a meteor shower. What was that? Should we chase it? A shooting star? Lets catch it. After that, we will swim across the Great Lakes. Then, just one more question. But, we’ll answer it a bunch of times. On second thought, let’s do it all again.

How would you like to see a cave? Bet we can find a bat. Ever watch a lake at night? Maybe we can catch the reflection of the moon on the water. Let’s sit on the dock and watch our breath against the night sky. Let’s climb that tree and see if things look different from there. Ever been stuck in the mud? How about snow? Let’s get stuck, I have a shovel. Let’s get lost, I have a map.

Think we can drive through that water? What’s the hurry, lets just find a canoe. What the heck, lets just carve our own. Can we make it through that snow? We’ll make skis. Maybe there is a faster way - but who really cares?

We are supposed to be where? When? Did you see the colors of that sunset? We’ll pull over and look through the window in the roof. How about from the back seat? How about on the hood? Ever stay up til sunrise? Maybe today is the day. Even more advice, “I don't want to get home soon/Drive the car around the moon.”

Efficiency is over-rated. Hurry is a problem I can live without. Busy is only for those who give the unimportant far too much credibility. They say there is a short cut – who cares what they say! I say there is no such thing as boredom, just boring people.

This is a testimony that the journey is as important as arrival. Exploration as important as destination. This is a vote cast for the long way. Sign me up for the scenic route.

I mow for the first time. Snow flurries as I finish. I rake the gardens. I turn grass clippings and dead leaves into the compost. I turn compost into the garden. I plant grass seed. I plant lettuce. I spend a great deal of time reading about a man named Lazarus raised from the dead.

Wild ground phlox, is one of the earliest flowers of the spring. The flowers are pink thus April's full moon is sometimes referred to as the Pink Moon. The Farmer’s Almanac claims that it has also been called the full sprouting grass moon, the egg moon, and among coastal tribes, the full fish moon, because this was the time that the shad swam upstream to spawn. This year, the full pink moon is also the full paschal moon which helps determine the date for Easter. Easter, according to most calendars, is the first Sunday following the first full moon that occurs on or after the day of the vernal equinox.

Whatever we choose to call it, an asteroid passed by closer than our moon. In cosmic terms, that is a close call. We spin around earth's axis at more than 830 miles per hour. We orbit around the sun at over 66,000 miles per hour. I am just hanging on for dear life hoping to catch a piece of the action. Comets, asteroids, new moon, composting, rotation, revolution. So much goes unnoticed. That does not suggest lack of activity. There is so much going on. In the sky, underground, in the soul.

St. Patrick’s Day came and went. That morning I put on a Celtic FC hat and order my iced tea green. Part of me wanted to order a shamrock shake from McDonalds and talk like a pirate (love that commercial), but I didn’t.

St. Patrick, along with Nicholas and Valentine, is one of the more well known saints. It is said that when he was young, he was captured by a raiding party and taken to Ireland as a slave to tend sheep. At age 20, it is said that he had a dream where God told him to leave Ireland. He miraculously escaped and returned home to be reunited with his family. Later, in another dream the people of Ireland were calling out for him “walk among us once more.” It was then he began to study for the priesthood, was ordained, and sent back to Ireland to proclaim the Gospel.

Perhaps it is in the meadows of Ireland as a shepherd where came up with the analogy between the three leaves of the shamrock and the Holy Trinity. That may be why we link a shamrock with St. Patrick’s Day. St. Patrick is also credited with driving the snakes out from Ireland. It is possible that there were no snakes to drive out, so it may be symbolic. Since Druids and pagans ruled Ireland in his day and Patrick converted the heathen, snakes may be symbols for pagan beliefs or evil.

St. Patrick is said to have died on March 17, AD 461. In the United States he is celebrated with parades, corned beef, cabbage, green beer, maybe anything green, and general revelry. Ironically, I am told that in Ireland the celebrations are primarily religious. Legend may credit St. Patrick with eliminating snakes from Ireland. But not from here. The following day I catch a garter snake on Piney Mountain.

We’ve watched a lot of movies lately. I want to watch a movie like Billy Collins watches a movie. “Hitched up to the television/the way they’d hitch up a stagecoach/to a team of horses/so the movie could pull me along/the crooked, dusty road of its adventures.” So one day I insert Last of the Mohicans and away I go.

Last of the Mohicans offers history and imagination. Culture and savagery. British and French. Mohawk and Huron. Mohicans and the frontier. Nathaniel of the Mohicans and Cora Monroe. At one point she says about this frontier, “We do not understand what is happening here. And it’s not as I imagined it would be… It is more deeply stirring to my blood than any imagining could possibly have been.” I propose that Lent is a lot like Cora’s frontier.

This year, Lent brings new music from U2. “Moment of Surrender” and “White as Snow” are phrases with pretty obvious spiritual implications. They are also song titles on the new album, No Line on the Horizon. Songs with spiritual implication are not new to U2, yet Rob Sheffield from Blender says that compared to “Moment of Surrender,” the earlier hit “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” just sounds like a callow kid trying to snag a date at Bible camp.

No Line on the Horizon takes us all over the place. We go from the womb until death. We mingle with enemies and lovers. We get a look at “sexy boots” and a historical figure with high heels. We get a typical U2 jumble of community, joy, war, and politic. Sensuality and spirituality. Satan and the Lamb as white as snow.

Brian Hiatt of Rolling Stone suggests that U2 desired more than just a hit album. “The initial conversation was about future hymns.” Songs that might “qualify as hymns for the future – songs that you can sing that will last forever.” While it is likely that they did not achieve this, I applaud the effort.

It is of interest to me that Eugene Peterson says, “If they do not explicitly proclaim the Kingdom, they certainly prepare the way for that proclamation in much the same way that John the Baptist prepared the way for the kerygma of Jesus... Amos crafted poems, Jeremiah wept sermons, Isaiah alternately rebuked and comforted, Ezekiel did street theater. U2 writes songs and goes on tour, singing them."

Respect appears mutual as Bono gives an endorsement for The Message. "There's a translation of the Scriptures that this guy Eugene Peterson has undertaken. It has been a great strength to me. He's a poet and a scholar, and he's brought the text back to the tone in which the books were written."

Elsewhere, Bono is quoted as saying, “I hope our lives will be a testament to the people who follow us, and to the music business where never before have so many lost and sorrowful people gathered in one place pretending they're having a good time. It is our ambition to make more than good music.”

It appears that the band and Bono intentionally insert God and “God themes” into areas where they were not mentioned before. In an earlier quote, Bono confesses this tendency to talk about God. “I sometimes think I have a kind of Tourette’s syndrome,” he says, “where if you’re not supposed to say something, it becomes very attractive to do so. You’re in a rock band – what can’t you talk about? God? OK, here we go.”

I attend a training for continuing education credit. I usually enjoy training for the simple change of scenery it provides. However, it becomes more enjoyable when interesting ideas are discussed. The one that sticks with me most from this particular training is the importance of interpersonal relationship in formative development. The idea that a cognitive-affective template is developed at an early age that defines for us the world we see.

This template is not rigid, not permanent, yet is enduring. Our experiences, all of them, have an impact on this template. Other people can shift the template by their responses and behavior in relation to us. This is based on the premise that all behavior is communication (a premise with which I agree).

Since it is quite difficult for an enduring template to shift quickly, the subtle becomes extremely important. Subtle shifts matter. I think that Suzanne Ail (our trainer on this occasion) would agree because in her words “either everything matters, or nothing does.”

If this theory is valid, think of the implications in the relationship between a caregiver and child. Or teacher and student. Coach and player. Therapist and patient. Think of the implications a friend can have, or a neighbor, a pastor, or even the mailman. Think of the implications of all human contact. A friendly greeting toward a stranger. Verbal exchange with a barista. A thank you toward a server. Eye contact with a stranger. A wink across the room toward a friend. All of these encounters between people may affect the template, may cause us to see the world differently.

Lent may be a time for subtle shifts. Lettuce and grass emerge carefully from underground where compost has been breaking up soil. Patrick uses a clover as a sermon illustration. A rock and roll singer keeps talking about God even though he is not supposed to. A comet flies gracefully through the solar system, an asteroid misses us by a cosmic whisker. The Paschal Moon waxes and wanes to remind us that Easter is on the way.

But, not all shifts are subtle. There is nothing subtle about a dead man being raised to life. We are reminded that though it may be difficult for an enduring template to shift quickly, it is not impossible.

It is commonly held that the Gospel of John contains seven signs. Eugene Peterson suggests that these seven signs show Jesus continuing the work laid out in Genesis in the seven days of creation. That these signs demonstrate God still at work in creation and not just its maintenance engineer.

I love this description that the signs performed by Jesus and recorded by John are a continuation of God’s activity in creation. And I am convinced that John records these signs that we might believe. Therefore, it may not be too far to say that all of creation is here that we might believe. This is good news! Signs are everywhere. Peterson adds, “God is not stingy in Revelation.”

As amazing as some of these signs are, we overlook their significance. Blue Mountain is still brown. But, as every year, it shows signs of turning green. Almost overnight, the forsythia and daffodils turn to gold. One day, after Keightley’s soccer match at the Middle School, we spot a rainbow. I wonder if we would have followed it to its end if we would have discovered a pot of forsythia, or a daffodil garden. Signs and wonders abound, but we fool ourselves into thinking we know it all. That we’ve seen it all, heard it all.

Maybe that is why John reports signs and wonders with an emphasis. While in Mark a paralytic picks up his bed and walks, in John it is not just a paralytic, but a man “thirty eight years in his sickness.” In Mark, the blind receive sight, in John not just a blind man but “a man blind from birth.” Matthew, Mark, and Luke record the raising of the dead, in John not just a dead man but a man who “has been dead four days.” John has a tendency to portray a heightened miraculous element.

A sign of particular interest occurs in the cemetery at Bethany. Perhaps no miracle clashes more with the skeptical mind of Western culture than the raising of the dead. John P. Meier notes the almost automatic response to attribute these signs to the imagination of the early church. To consider these stories as depictions of the church’s belief that the risen Jesus has conquered the powers of evil, death being the ultimate evil.

Meier discusses why the raising of the dead should at least be considered. Just because skeptical westerners have made judgments about these things does not make them less true. The followers of Jesus would not have considered it impossible for a holy man to raise the dead. In fact, the Gospel suggests that it is likely that followers believed that Jesus raised the dead during his lifetime.

Meier adds a saying of Jesus into this discussion, “the blind receive sight and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up.” Therefore, it is important to note that there are not only multiple sources (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) but also multiple forms (narratives - miracle stories and a saying of Jesus) suggesting that Jesus raised the dead.

Each gospel makes a general connection between miracles and belief. Yet, John appears to emphasize this most. His purpose for reporting these signs is that we may believe. That is why he keeps repeating this throughout the Gospel. Meier suggests that a lack of belief is not due to insufficient signs, but to individuals who stubbornly refuse to see.

Surely, Meier is correct when he points out that miracles played no little part in Jesus’ ability to attract the favor of the crowds and the not so favorable attention of the authorities. In other words, without miracles, one wonders how much popularity Jesus would have enjoyed. A step further, one wonders if he would have been considered enough of a threat to be crucified.

Signs have potential entertainment value. No wonder crowds follow, this is better than the circus – watch Jesus turn water into wine, watch him feed five thousand with five loaves and two fish, watch him walk on water! Watch Jesus bring the dead back to life! But John does not present signs for our amusement. John is interested in how Jesus, who created all these things, continues to work in this same creation.

Peterson admits that we may enjoy signs and wonders, but frequently we misread the signposts. To put it another way, Jesus may be the revelation of God, yet he rarely conforms to our expectations. So, he cautions us not to go out looking for signs. Signs alone are no proof of truth or reality. A sign is not something to be studied as a thing in itself. It is a moment of realization. Jesus is God at work right here – now.

It is interesting that no matter how significant these signs appear to be (by all accounts, raising someone from the dead counts as significant), they are not always compelling. Signs do not automatically or magically produce faith. This becomes important because “believe” is one of John’s characteristic verbs. In fact, opposition was aroused more often than belief. So, even after raising Lazarus from the dead we read “although he had performed so many signs in their presence, they did not believe in Him.” But also, “nevertheless many even of the rulers believed in Him.” Peterson suggests that saying the words “I believe” marks the difference between life and death.

I was standing outside when spring arrived. Apparently I am not paying close enough attention because if I was not told it was to occur at 7:44 am, I would not have even noticed. Earlier this month, the Full Lenten Moon was visible through feathery clouds. The same day the car turned over 222,222 miles. That is a lot of driving across creation. In the hopes of adding even more miles I filled up with gasoline at 179.9.

Lent begins with the Comet Lulin riding across the sky. One night it flies by Saturn, a few nights later past Regulus. Here on the ground I spend time in the garden. Starbucks donates a bag of coffee grounds. I turn it with kitchen scraps into the compost. I add it into the garden where it breaks up this red clay like soil we have here in our part of the world.

Eugene Peterson has written a helpful book Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places that proposes creation as a playground for divine activity. Without doubt, Peterson has carved a niche for further work in pastoral practice and spiritual theology. It is likely that his name will be mentioned and his words quoted for centuries. One of the tools in his arsenal is a “contemplative exegesis.” A reading of scripture that does not ignore the strengths of critical methods, yet utilizes strengths of poets, pastors, and storytellers.

In Christ Plays he reads John through this contemplative lens as a grounding text for “playing in creation.” Peterson suggests that John presents Jesus at play in the Genesis creation. That John is Genesis 1-2 re-told in specific, recognizable geography and history. That Jesus is both the creator at work among us and also the creation of which we are a part. Peterson insists that there should be no sleeping on the playground.

In John, Jesus not only speaks the word of God; He is the Word of God. In John, we become insiders into creation as Jesus continues to speak creation into existence. John presents signs in a way to show that Jesus continues to work in the stuff of creation. Everything Jesus does, he does with his hands deep into creation.

My oldest daughter, Karissa, has just completed study at Baltimore School of Massage. Because of that, anatomy is often a topic of conversation at our house. Anatomy is not a subject that John writes about. John is not aware that we are born with 270 bones and wind up with 206 as an adult. John does not know that we have over 600 named muscles, each of them working efficiently with tendons and ligaments to aid our movement.

However, John does take us to a place where a multitude of sick, blind, lame, and withered lay. One of those is a man sick for 38 years. John does not even find it necessary to tell us what his ailment might be, he just lets us know that at the word of Jesus, he begins to carry his bed. John does introduce us to a man who was born blind. John reports that “since the beginning of time it has never been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind.” John wants us to know that Jesus applies clay to the man’s eyes and this man begins to see.

As amazing and against the odds as these incidents are, John later brings us to a funeral for Jesus’ friend Lazarus. Where Lazarus has been dead for four days. Where we know that usually when the respiratory system shuts down for four days, one remains dead. Yet, Jesus says "come forth" and Lazarus comes walking out from the tomb.

It is safe to say that in John we do not learn anything about anatomy. Yet, we do learn that even subjects that appear to adhere to rigid rules are under the rule of God. Even rules of nature, including anatomy, are subject to God. Odds go out the window. The improbable, even the impossible, have to be seen differently. Perhaps that is John’s intention – that we see everything differently.

Perhaps this is the great fear of devils. In The Screwtape Letters, Screwtape writes to his nephew about the frustration that devils have when trying to divert people from religion and from God. “Even if we contrive to keep them ignorant of explicit religion, the incalculable winds of fantasy and music and poetry – the mere face of a girl, the song of a bird, or the sight of a horizon – are always blowing our whole structure away.”

We take things for granted. We get into a rut. Things are here, they are real, but we do not notice. Compost is breaking up the ground, comets shoot through the sky. Who knows what breaks up and shoots through the soul?

Bernd Heinrich says that “Most of us are like sleepwalkers here, because we notice so little.” Heinrich is right. We are not nearly as attentive as we ought to be. Peterson is right. There should be no sleeping on the playground. Screwtape is right. The most normal things of creation can awaken us from our slumber.

There are a number of ways we are brought back to attention. A question from a child. A chorus of spring peepers. A pain in the back of our leg. A new song from our favorite artist. A comet in the night sky. The smell of a charcoal fire. The colors of a sunset. A lame man carrying his bed around chapter five. A blind man gaining sight. A dead man walking out of the grave. Suddenly, we wake up. Sleepwalking no more. Blowing away the structure of the devils. We begin to see differently.