The Rev. Neale L. Miller

Sermon for May 14, 2006

Title: “Insufficient Evidence”

Texts: Psalm 23/John 10:22-30

              The personal computer is an extraordinary device, but only within certain limits, those limits represented by the languages it knows. The computer on your desk can speak with mine, we can transfer files, send emails and all the rest only because your computer and mine use the same language.  In technical speak, our two computers communicate in a common format. 

              Before the major league baseball season I signed up to hear the broadcasts of major league baseball games on my computer.  The big computer at Major League Baseball headquarters balked at sending out that first broadcast until my little computer was formatted to receive what the big computer was sending.  It took some doing, but in time the two computers learned how to talk with one another. A common format is the key.

              Formatting issues are not, of course, restricted to the field of computing, but also in the most fundamental of all modes of human communication, the spoken word.  I, for instance, am not “formatted” to speak to anyone in Polish, in Thai, or in Serbian.  My language proficiency is restricted to English, with a small smattering of French, beyond that any “conversation” I might carry on would be restricted to hand gestures and facial expressions.

              Those same formatting obstacles would also by in play if I were ever invited into a technical conversation with a computer technician, a physicist, or a tool and die maker. I simply lack the knowledge, the background, and the experience to penetrate those fields of study. 

              Formatting is a priority concern for the preacher, though remarks delivered from this pulpit from time to time might well prompt you to question that.  However, in critiquing myself I can at least take some solace in the fact that the issues I attempt to deal with week to week; grace, salvation, sin, and forgiveness are extremely formidable topics. Furthermore, I take solace that the man in whose name I strive to speak had his own formatting problems.

              Take, for instance, Jesus’ conversation with the Jews in our morning’s lesson.  On their behalf a good argument could be made that it was formatting issues more than anything else that prevented them from understanding the message Jesus was attempting to communicate. The two parties addressed each other in different formats, those differences exposed around a subject that persistently intruded itself into their conversation, that subject being Jesus’ identity.

              Who was Jesus?  Without the least bit of equivocation the Gospel of John informs us in the very opening verses of that gospel that Jesus is the Son of God, the “word” of God enfleshed, “[possessing, we read] the glory of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”   

              Jesus’ credentials as the bearer of Jewish hopes were, insofar as John was concerned, entirely authenticated within the history of Israel.  Jesus was the messiah—end of conversation.

              In the very opening chapter of his gospel John has Nathaniel, later to become one of Jesus’ disciples, affirm the convictions upon which the entire gospel rests, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God!  You are the king of Israel!” Yet just as quickly as that affirmation is made in the gospel, John informs us that that piece of news was not universally accepted, declaring, “He [Jesus] was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. He came to his own, and his own people did not accept him.”

              Here then is the central issue around which the Gospel of John revolves.  Some of Jesus’ “own people” were prepared to deny what God had chosen to reveal.  “He came to his own [the Jews], and his own people did not accept him.”  John has no sympathy to extend to the Jews, for it was his judgment that they chose to remain blind, even as God disclosed his very essence to them.

              Yet in all fairness we do well to suspend judgment until all parties are heard.  In their defense the Jews criticized might well have argued that Jesus’ credentials were not nearly so well established as John thought them to be.  And here, I believe, lies the formatting issue.  The expectations of the Jews whom John criticizes were no less focused on a messiah than his were, but the Jesus with whom they interacted did not fit their format.  That difference of opinion, of course, established and maintained the tension that prevailed throughout Jesus’ earthly ministry until he was arrested and crucified.

              Unambiguous and definitive, a messiah that would take the world by storm, that is what the Jews were looking for, and for the Jews there was no better place than the Jerusalem temple to watch and wait for that drama to be enacted.  The temple was, and the Western Wall, the remnant of the temple existing today, remains the focal point of Jewish religious and political aspirations. Originally built during the reign of King Solomon, the son of Israel’s greatest king, David, people of Jesus’ generation revered the temple as the ultimate symbol of national pride.

              A grand monument celebrating the unique and enduring relationship Israel enjoyed with her God, the temple was the focus of Jewish hopes for the future, a future in which the messiah played a decisive role.  The Messiah, a descendent of king David, was to inaugurate God’s reign on earth.  Broad shoulders to bear the weight of responsibility, wisdom to seek and uphold God’s will, courage and strength to put down Israel’s enemies, the Messiah would restore the prestige Israel enjoyed under king David. 

              Enter Jesus, and buzz began that he might be the messiah.  Problem was, in the minds of many, he was poorly formatted. Didn’t possess the kind of resume many thought the messiah should have.  He didn’t look remarkable, kept poor company, and fashioned himself a rabbi when he had never entered the door taught of divinity school. Yet speculation continued to grow that Jesus was the one, speculation coming to a head in the temple at the festival of Hanukah, a time when the Jews celebrate the victory that saw the temple, despoiled in the second century BC, restored. 

              Patience worn thin by the speculation that Jesus was the Messiah, some Jews in the temple confronted Jesus.  “How long will you keep us in suspense?”  Mere words on the page cannot convey the tone in which the question was asked.  Perhaps the tone was threatening, as in “HOW LONG will you keep us in suspense?”  Or was the question merely a request for information, “How long will you keep us in suspense?”  Though the response of Jesus yields no real clue as to how the question might have been asked, I will speculate that the question was voiced more as a demand than a simple request for information---“give us a plain answer, Jesus, nothing more, nothing less.”

              Jesus wasn’t playing ball.  He did not respond “yes” or “no,” instead he parried their question, responding, “the works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me.”  There is no way we can pinpoint specifically “the works” to which he was referring, but apparently those works hadn’t impressed his Jewish interrogators sufficiently to answer the questions they were asking.   

              The scene at the temple had all the markings of a formatting issue.  The message Jesus was conveying with his works was not being communicated in a format certain Jews could understand.  Yet, if not with them, somewhere, somehow, communication was occurring, for Jesus countered, “My sheep hear my voice.  I know them, and they follow me.” 

              Some sheep hear, and other sheep don’t?  What are we to make of the fact that the message of Jesus translates into some formats and not others.  You have the capacity to hear, but as for me, well, I must live my life in suspense, never knowing when or even if the message of the Lord will reach me in a format I can decipher.

              Suspense makes for a good novel, but not for a very satisfying life.  “My sheep hear my voice.”  When have you heard the voice of Lord lately?  Jesus’ interrogators hadn’t heard.  Were they bad people, simply unworthy to receive a message from the Lord?  Were they too preoccupied with other agendas to be available when the shepherd spoke?  Or, to take the option we have already been considering, was the format in which Jesus delivered his message unsuitable?

              Too evil, too preoccupied, mis-formatted---three possible explanations we might offer to explain why the Jews failed to acknowledge Jesus for who he was.  The question we must ask is this, do any of those three explanations hold water? 

              Let’s begin with the first, were the Jews too evil, thus unworthy to hear and heed the Lord?  Such a suggestion offends a basic tenet of the faith, namely that God’s love in Christ is unconditional, that while we may, and often do things that cut off from God, God will do everything in his power to preserve and prosper his relationship with us.

              Let’s consider a second possibility.  Can we become so inattentive to the promptings of God in Christ as to make it impossible for him to communicate with us if he chose?  Can we raise a barrier that will cut off Christ’s access to us?  Faith responds that there is no barrier we might erect, be it ever so high or broad, that will keep Christ out.

              The third possible explanation to explain why the Jews failed to recognize Jesus for who he was is to my mind the most persuasive.  Certain Jews failed to acknowledge Jesus as the messiah because the communication was formatted in such a way that they couldn’t receive it.

              “My sheep hear my voice.”  For those Jews who pressed Jesus to explain himself that assertion meant nothing.  “You might think your message is clear, Jesus, but we hear nothing at all.  You offer insufficient evidence to prove you are the messiah.

              Though unsympathetically portrayed, and perhaps to an extent justifiably so, nonetheless force us to consider an important question.  Is there an “elect” out there formatted in such a way to hear the message of salvation while another group is not?  Is there a group “predestined,” a notion that has fallen out of favor, somehow by God to hear and receive what God has to offer, leaving the rest of us to our own devices? 

              Jesus says, “my sheep hear my voice.”   Some of us struggle to hear that voice, or think we don’t hear it all.  If asked about our struggle we are likely to respond that we haven’t accumulated sufficient evidence upon which to make a decisive confession of faith.  Should we not then think of ourselves as being among the elect, the chosen, whom Christ favors?  Though that is a conclusion we might justifiably draw, is that the conclusion Christ would have us draw?

              How shall we reconcile the doctrine of divine election, the language of predestination, with the God whom scripture affirms as being all-loving and all-compassionate?  It is a mystery that challenges the Ph.D theologian just as much as the average Christian come to worship on Sunday morning. The mystery, at least on this side of eternity, is impenetrable. Yet this much we can say.  Elect or no, all of us without exception have sinned and fallen far short of what God would have us to be, but without exception, without exception, Christ died for the sins of each one of us.

              Try as best they may the visionaries in computing have yet to design a format that will transmit data computer to computer in the many forms in which it is generated. God, however, is not similarly handicapped.  God, you see, established a format through which his grace can be sent to the four corners of the earth.  God’s format is the living word, a word spoken by Christ that is at one and the same time Christ himself. Without exception each of us is formatted to receive the message. But what shall we do with it?  Isn’t that the real issue?  What shall we do with what we have heard?

            Election and predestination continue have engaged the church in an endless cycle of debate, a cycle of debate that through all the centuries has yet to be concluded. Let others debate, our challenge is to live the message we know. 

PRAYER

              O God, who out of the many strands of life, the everyday joys and sorrows, sickness and health, the mundane and the exceptional, are weaving a grand tapestry, we gather to honor you, the source and sustainer of all that is.  We sing your praise, for you have placed your song on our hearts.  In awe we behold the works of your artistry, the earth alive with the wonders you have wrought. We rejoice that you have given us senses to apprehend your vast display, emotions to register our delight and fascination.

              O God, at whose command the first day dawned, at whose command this day dawned, we are confident that your will will be done on earth as it is in heaven, even as events in life conspire to undermine our confidence.  In faith we cling to your promises made of old, knowing that others have faced the setbacks and travail many suffer today.  In faith we challenge the beliefs and doctrines of those who dishonor your name.  Through prayer, study, and worship we grow in wisdom, wisdom to distinguish truth from falsehood, right from wrong.

              We are the church, O God, built upon the cornerstone of Christ our Savior, and it is as the church, a community of faith, we have been called and equipped for ministry.  We praise you for the gifts you have so generously conferred on this church that we might serve you and our neighbor.  Richly endowed, our mission is to enter the servanthood of Jesus the head of the church.  A mission that calls us into the world beyond our walls, grant us intelligence, imagination, but most of all faith in you, that we might fulfill the responsibilities that come with the covenant you sealed with us.  Embolden us to move beyond the boundaries of our former thinking and to challenge self-imposed limits, confident that your strength is sufficient to our needs.

              O Christ, the great shepherd of the sheep, we pray for ourselves, and our brothers and sisters everywhere who struggle to hear your voice, who struggle to live as you appoint.  Great is the temptation to stray, to embrace worldly values and aspirations.  Present in our weakness, O Christ, may we become more alert to your presence wherever and however it is manifest.

              Your love, O God, is revealed in so many ways, and in so many different circumstances, but no expression of that love has so profoundly impacted our lives as the love of our mothers. In thanksgiving we approach you, celebrating the manifold influence our mothers have had in setting the course our lives would take. We acknowledge the mothers gathered here today, praying that on this special day of recognition each mother may savor the special blessing their devoted labors have earned. 

              O Christ, our brother, we pray for our sisters and brothers who face adversity today, particularly the members of our military forces.  We pray for the secession of violence, the eradication of conditions that breed hatred and provoke warfare.  Grant wisdom and persistence to the peacemakers of our day, the capacity to envision new strategies to achieve the ends they seek.

              Lord of life, for the sanctity of life, and for the vast range of the human intellect and spirit we praise you, praying your blessing on each person gathered here today. 

              Hear our prayers, O Lord, for we pray in the blessed name of Jesus who taught us when praying to say…