Come and See

This sermon was given at Harvard University Morning Prayers in the Memorial Church of Harvard University.

“The day following Jesus would go forth into Galilee, and findeth Philip, and saith unto him, Follow me. Now Philip was of Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. Philip findeth Nathanael, and saith unto him, We have found him, of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write, Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph. And Nathanael said unto him, Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? Philip saith unto him, Come and see. Jesus saw Nathanael coming to him, and saith of him, Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom is no guile! Nathanael saith unto him, Whence knowest thou me? Jesus answered and said unto him, Before that Philip called thee, when thou wast under the fig tree, I saw thee. Nathanael answered and saith unto him, Rabbi, thou art the Son of God; thou art the King of Israel.” —John 1:43-49 KJV

Can any good thing come out Nazareth?

What a ridiculous question. For those who felt as Philip, Andrew, and Peter did—or, for that matter, as I do—that Jesus of Nazareth was and is he, “of whom the Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write,” Nathanael’s response to his friend’s proclamation is absurd. Philip has approached his friend with a bold claim. Centuries of hope and expectation are fulfilled. God has sent his appointed one, his anointed one, the Messiah, the very Christ. And Nathanael’s best follow up question is “Can any good thing come out of Nazareth?” This is not the response we would like to our missionary efforts.

Nathanael is wrong. Good, the greatest good humanity has ever known, can indeed come out of Nazareth, the son of God, the savior of mankind, from an insignificant backwater of an oppressed land, a place no esteem to the world.

We live in times in which the popular notion is that labeling others is a solution to debate. Socialist. Bigot. Once people or ideas are neatly shoved to into the ugly category of our choice, we can then ask, as Nathanael, can any good thing come out of (insert your prejudice here)? When we assign a label to a person, we have given ourselves an excuse to rob them of their real identity and their humanity. In Nathanael’s case, he even was attempting to rob Jesus of his divinity.

Can any good thing come out of Cambridge? Can any good thing come out of San Francisco? Can any good thing come out of Salt Lake City? From the opposing political party?

How often have we all heard “Can any good thing come from Cambridge?” Our city is a code word in talk radio to dismiss ideas or people. As if the struggles of our working families are any less real; or as if the sacrifices of our soldiers, sailors, and airmen are any less heroic, than in the rest of America.

In 1910, Harvard established its Extension School, a community outreach that allows men and women a chance at a college education who did not have that opportunity at a traditional age. I am blessed and privileged to be a degree candidate there. I was twenty-three when I began college full-time, I was already married and working a full-time job. My own twin daughters were born during midterms in my sophomore year. The admissions process took over a year. And yet how often do I hear my school maligned within the university, as if mine is not the real Harvard. I can hear the Nathanaels of Harvard ask, “Can any good thing come out of the Extension School?”

How did Jesus and his disciple react when confronted with Nathanael’s prejudice? They did not call him a “bigot.” They did not boycott; they did not picket his synagogue. In Jesus’ response, “Behold an Israelite indeed, in whom there is no guile (or no deceit)!” we see that judgment was not met with judgment, but love. Indeed, Nathanael was wrong, but he was innocent. He was sincere. Nonetheless, he was wrong. Philip confronted Nathanael with a simple invitation. “And Nathanael said unto him, Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth? Philip saith unto him, Come and see.”

Come and see. It is the invitation that knocks down stereotypes and robs them of all power. It is the invitation that replaces presumption with an opportunity for revelation.

I think of my dear uncle, a conservative Baptist pastor. This man is an inspiration to me and someone who in many ways I aspire to become more like. I wish you could come and see him minister to the sick, counsel struggling marriages, love broken hearts, visit the widows and orphans in their affliction. No matter how wrong you think he may be about gay marriage, you cannot come and see his ministry and conclude that he is a man fueled by hatred or bigotry. I wish I could then take him to have dinner with my gay friends. As wrong as he thinks their relationships are, he would come and see that their relationships are indeed founded on love. Would this invitation, “come and see,” solve our debates and contentions? No. If anything, it complicates them. But, it does make them become “without guile,” without deceit.

It is an imperfect solution in human affairs, but Philip asked Nathanael to come and see Christ. What happens when we come and see Christ? “Nathanael saith unto him, Whence knowest thou me? Jesus answered and said unto him, Before that Philip called thee, when thou wast under the fig tree, I saw thee.” This exchange is revealing in what it does not explain. To an outside observer, such as we each are, Jesus’ response is cryptic. But this moment is not about us, it is about Nathanael. And it was the perfect answer. “Nathanael answered and saith unto him, Rabbi, thou art the Son of God; thou art the King of Israel.”

We don’t know what happened under the fig tree. We can imagine that whatever it was, it was a profound experience, and it was a solitary experience, and the fact that this Jesus, this man from Nazareth, knew what happened there changed Nathanael’s view, and Nathanael’s life. Was Nathanael’s fig tree experience a time of great sorrow, or exhilarating joy? Was it quiet and pensive? Was it heart throbbing? Was it serene or rapturous? Reflective or revelatory? We don’t know, but whatever it was, we have probably each had one. And whatever it was, there was nothing more powerful in Nathanael’s life than knowing that in that moment, previously assumed to be solitary, Jesus of Nazareth was there.

Like Philip long before me, I do indeed believe that Jesus, this son of Joseph, this man from Nazareth, is he “of whom Moses in the law, and the prophets, did write” and as Nathanael learned, “the Son of God.” To any who feel alone in their fig tree moments, to any curious about the power of this Jesus of Nazareth, I offer, as Philip, the invitation. “Come and see.”