The Third Word: “Here is your son…” (April 2, 2012)

…Opening To…

Sing, my tongue, the glorious battle; of the mighty conflict sing; tell the triumph of the victim, to his cross thy tribute bring. Jesus Christ the world’s Redeemer from that cross now reigns as King. (Venantius Honorius Fortunatus, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

Jesus’ mother and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene stood near the cross. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that time on, this disciple took her into his home. (John 19:25-27; context)

…Filling Up…

For the last seven devos of Lent: last week and during this Holy Week, we are encountering Christ’s seven last words from the cross. These “words” are actually full sentences, and there are three in Luke, three in John, and Matthew and Mark share one, as well (though with a slight variation). For each of the words, I have written a song; now, the songs may or may not include the sayings themselves. Rather, think of them as my response to Jesus speaking out from the cross, a place of vulnerability, shame, and torment – that Jesus turned into a place of majesty, love, and salvation.

For each song, I gave myself no more than two hours to write and record it. These are by no means polished songs; they are the responses of my heart to Christ crucified. I hope that they enrich you on your Holy Week journey as they have enriched me. What follows is “How He Loves,” my response to Jesus’ third word from the cross.

(If you can’t see the music player, download the song here.)

I’m standing at the foot of the cross,
And everyone around me is a stranger.
Then I see her standing, looking so lost—
She sees the boy she once laid in a manger.
She falls to her knees
Saying, “Please, oh someone, please
Help my son.”
I look at the nails,
And all my courage fails:
I come undone.

She’s kneeling barely ten feet away,
But it feels like half the planet is between us.
I look at Jesus: bloody, betrayed;
And I wonder if it’s possible he’s seen us.
He looks back at me,
Saying, “See your mother, see.
Help her, John.
You are her son:
A family begun
Before I’m gone.”

I’m standing at the foot of the cross,
And the woman next to me is my new mother.
His commandment has a beautiful cost:
To show we are his friends we love each other.
I take Mary’s hand,
Saying, “I don’t understand
How he loves.
But this is my prayer
That in his love we’ll share,
O God above—”

For God is love.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you gave us the commandment to love each other us you love us. Help me to take seriously this call to love, for you made me in your image and you are love. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, kneeling at the foot of the cross and feeling Christ’s arms of love reaching out to embrace the whole world.

“J” is for Judgment (March 6, 2012)

…Opening To…

So daily dying to the way of self, so daily living to your way of love, we walk the road, Lord Jesus, that you trod, knowing ourselves baptized into your death: so we are dead and live with you in God. (Thomas H. Cain, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him won’t perish but will have eternal life. God didn’t send his Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through him. (John 3:16-17; context)

…Filling Up…

This Lent, we are exploring our faith by running through the alphabet. Today, “J” is for judgment. For starters, “judgment” is a scary word in our modern context. None of us wants to be judged because we know in our heart of hearts that we will be found wanting. She doesn’t wear the right shoes. He can’t jump high enough. She has trouble speaking publically. He gets really sweaty when he talks to girls. In each of these cases, we are vulnerable to “judgment,” and the outcome of the judgment is never going our way. Even in church we hear such pious rhetoric as as, “Judge not lest ye be judged.” Sounds bad, right?

Our society hardwires us to think that judgment always means something negative is coming our way. But let’s look at the word again: Judgment – oft misspelled as “judgement.” See the first syllable – judge. There isn’t a judge (or jury) in the land who, case after case, hands down guilty verdicts. The judge is not tasked with finding people guilty. The judge is simply tasked with choosing from alternatives. That’s what “judgment” is at the elementary level: choosing. “Good judgment” means “making beneficial and healthy choices.”

Okay, so let’s bring the word into its church context. We talk about Christ being our judge and about “the last judgment.” This could be really scary (and for much of Christian history, the church traded in on this fear). It could be scary because we are sinners, and thus our judge could could very well find us guilty. But that’s not what happened. Rather than finding us guilty, Christ the judge made a choice. And that choice wasn’t even one of the two alternatives on the table. Christ didn’t let it come to our guilt or innocence. Instead, Christ made the choice to soak all of our sins into himself. Christ made the choice to give us clean hearts and right spirits despite our sinfulness. Christ made the choice save the world rather than condemn it.

So whenever you think about being judged, know that our heavenly judge is full of compassion and abounding in steadfast kindness and mercy. And also know that the judgment has already been made.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you are the source of all wisdom. Help me to make wise judgments in my life, always relying on your Word and guidance to walk down life-giving paths. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, thankful that you continue to shine your light in my heart and mind, that I may continue to know you better through every way that you choose to reveal yourself.

“G” is for Grief (March 1, 2012)

…Opening To…

Now let us all with one accord, in company with ages past, keep vigil with our heavenly Lord in his temptation and his fast. (Gregory the Great, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

When Mary arrived where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother wouldn’t have died.” When Jesus saw her crying and the Jews who had come with her crying also, he was deeply disturbed and troubled. He asked, “Where have you laid him?” They replied, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to cry. The Jews said, “See how much he loved him!” (John 11:32-35; context)

…Filling Up…

This Lent, we are exploring our faith by running through the alphabet. Today, “G” is for grief. First off, let me get this out there: no one likes grieving. Grieving is not something we choose to do. Grief happens whether we are ready for it or not, and there’s really no way outside heavy prescription drugs to control it or take the edge off it.

That being said, Charlie Brown is on to something whenever he says his catchphrase: “Good grief.” Grief, in a sense, is good. Grief happens after loss – whether the loss of a loved one or the end of a relationship or a change in what you thought the future would hold. Grief is our body and our spirit’s way of confirming to us that we, in the case of death, truly did love the person who is gone from our sight. Grief can sneak up behind us, catch us off guard, dissolve us into puddles of tears, and then give us the gift of knowing in the depths of our souls that the deceased really did matter to us.

Grief gives us a way to stay connected to the newly deceased while we move to the new normal that our lives will enter sometime after all the events surrounding the death. Grief is love’s tether to the other person. But as grief fades, the tether remains because the relationship did not die with the person. The Resurrection of Jesus Christ points to this reality, the reality that relationships do not die; rather, through the love of God, they only change. Grief is the incubator for the change in relationships as people pass life through death to new life.

Grief is a gift. It may not seem so at the time of piercing, screaming, shattering loss, but in the end, as Charlie Brown says, grief is good.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you infuse every relationship with your presence. Help me to recognize that the love I hold for people who have passed is not negated, but changed. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, nourished by your Spirit and willing to open up a larger space within for you to dwell.

“E” is for Eucharist (February 28, 2012)

…Opening To…

Now let us all with one accord, in company with ages past, keep vigil with our heavenly Lord in his temptation and his fast. (Gregory the Great, from The Hymnal 1982)

…Listening In…

Jesus said, “Have the people sit down.” There was plenty of grass there. They sat down, about five thousand of them. Then Jesus took the bread. When he had given thanks, he distributed it to those who were sitting there. He did the same with the fish, each getting as much as they wanted. (John 6:10-11; context)

…Filling Up…

This Lent, we are exploring our faith by running through the alphabet. Today, “E” is for Eucharist. This word is used in several church contexts and can be a real barrier to entry for newcomers because it doesn’t really look like any other word they might recognize. We use it as a synonym for “Communion,” which is a word that has “union” in it and sort of looks like “common,” so newbies to the faith could get an inkling of what it means. But Eucharist? Yikes! The word just looks tricky.

So if you or someone you know has been wondering about this one, let me break it down to two simple English words: Eucharist means to “give thanks.” It is an ancient Greek word that was essentially ported into English unharmed by the ravages of time and language (which is why it looks a bit funny). When Jesus gives thanks before breaking and sharing the loaves and fishes with five thousand of his closest friends, he is Eucharist-ing.

With this simple meaning under our belts, we can look at how we use this word in church. First, we use it as a name for the service: the “Holy Eucharist,” which encompasses the parts of the service that surround both the Word and the table. We use it as the name of the sacrament of Holy Communion and for the prayers we pray when we consecrate the bread and wine. And we use it to name these two elements after the prayer when they have become for us Christ’s Body and Blood.

Because we use the word “Eucharist” in these several contexts, the definition of the word can get lost. But if we remember that the word means to “give thanks” then those contexts blossom with new meaning. The service as a whole becomes one we enter into with an attitude of thanksgiving. The prayer and the communion become our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. The elements of bread and wine become nourishment of God’s abundance, for which we give thanks.

Eucharist is not just an old word that is difficult to understand. It is the entry point to a new outlook on the world – one in which abundance trumps scarcity, generosity defeats greed, and thanksgiving wins the day.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you are the source of every good gift. Help me to nurture within myself a generous heart that is always on the lookout for blessing, for which I can give thanks. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, nourished by your Spirit and willing to open up a larger space within for you to dwell.

In Between (February 10, 2012)

…Opening To…

The book to read is not the one which thinks for you, but the one which makes you think. No book in the world equals the Bible for that. (Harper Lee)

…Listening In…

I’m no longer in the world, but they are in the world, even as I’m coming to you. Holy Father, watch over them in your name, the name you gave me, that they will be one just as we are one. (John 17:11; context)

…Filling Up…

On our final day with the New Testament, I’d like to talk about an expectation that the writers of the New Testament had that informed their writing. This expectation is that Jesus was returning imminently; that is, in the writers’ own lifetimes. As such, many of the texts in the New Testament exhibit an “in between” quality, which speaks of a reality that has begun to happen but hasn’t finished happening yet. Often, this reality is rendered in the shorthand as “both already and not yet.”

The expectation that Jesus would return imminently informs many of Paul’s letters. His advice about getting married or staying single has to do with the time being “short” (1 Corinthians 7). There is immediacy in much of his writing because of his conviction that the Lord would return next week some time.

In the Gospel, the “in between” quality finds its way into some of Jesus’ speech. In certain places, Jesus seems to be talking about his being around and his being gone at the same time. Read the verse in the “Listening In” section again. Notice that Jesus seems to be praying while in earshot of the disciples and at the same time while being “no longer in the world.” The coming of God’s reign on earth seems to be overlapping with the finishing of Jesus’ work. In the same way, Paul’s immediacy yearns for God’s reign to come soon, and in so yearning, helps bring it into being.

The “already, not yet” quality of the New Testament reminds us that God is both embedded in our lives even now (“already”) and is also continually revealing the kingdom in new ways that point to even newer ways to come (“not yet”). We can’t have everything figured out because God is always allowing us to discover new paths along our walks with God. The immediate, imminent nature of the New Testament gives us the language with which we can try to interpret God’s movement in our lives. God is here with us, or more precisely, we are here with God. And God is there waiting for us as we continue our journeys as followers of God’s Son, Jesus Christ.

…Praying For…

Dear God, I stand for ever in your presence, even as that presence is beyond me. Help me to live my life believing that you are below, above, beside, and within me, always guiding me to the fullness of your glory. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, having faith that you have touched my life with your Word, knowing that I can read it in my heart and speak it on my lips.

Sometimes Different (February 8, 2012)

…Opening To…

The book to read is not the one which thinks for you, but the one which makes you think. No book in the world equals the Bible for that. (Harper Lee)

…Listening In…

Jesus said to the servants, “Fill the jars with water,” and they filled them to the brim. Then he told them, “Now draw some from them and take it to the headwaiter,” and they did. The headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine. He didn’t know where it came from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. (John 2:7-9; context) (This story appears only in John)

…Filling Up…

Yesterday we talked about how and why the accounts of the Gospel are alike. Today, we’ll talk about how and why they are different. For some, the fact that the accounts of the Gospel differ is a source of consternation: if they are telling the truth, then why don’t they say the same thing, these folks wonder. It’s a good question. For starters, if they all said the same thing, we wouldn’t have four to begin with; we’d only have one account, and we wouldn’t be having this discussion.

But furthermore, the variety in the storytelling is, in my view, a reason to trust the stories, not the other way around. Think of eyewitness testimony of a crime, perhaps on Law and Order or a show like that. If several witnesses all say exactly the same thing, it means they have rehearsed their stories to get them straight and are therefore playing the cops and lawyers a bit false. It is when eyewitness accounts differ on the details but paint the same general picture that the cops and lawyers know they are close to the truth.

The same holds for the accounts of the Gospel. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are written for different communities going through various strains and strife. These communities are made up of Jews or Gentiles, those close to Jerusalem or those farther away, those nearer the time of Jesus or those who live later on. Each of these contexts leads to the story being told for each community in the way that best allows for each to hear it.

Isn’t this the same in our time? We tailor our speech to be well received by the listener. When our messages fall on deaf ears, it is most likely because we didn’t reach the other where he or she lived. The accounts of the Gospel tell the same story to different sets of people, and each is tailored to be heard by that group. This personalized nature of the texts don’t make them false – on the other hand, it demonstrates to us how best to proclaim the good news. We are heralds of the Gospel just like Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were. When we tell the story of the Gospel in our own lives, we share a theme, but may vary the details depending on what hits home for us. This is how the Gospel writers shared the good news: they made it personal, intimate. We are called to do the same.

…Praying For…

Dear God, the witnesses to your Son’s life, death, and resurrection took to heart all that he did and said and then passed on to others what they thought most important. Help me to pass on the good news in the same way. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, having faith that you have touched my life with your Word, knowing that I can read it in my heart and speak it on my lips.

The Sense of Sight (January 16, 2012)

…Opening To…

“A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

…Listening In…

Jesus replied, “Do you believe because you see me? Happy are those who don’t see and yet believe.” (John 20:29; context)

…Filling Up…

In a Bible study yesterday at church, I led a group that discussed all of the visual and auditory language in a reading from 1 Samuel 3. It was a very cool discussion, and now I have the senses on the mind. So this week, I’d like to talk about how God encounters us through our senses. And coincidentally enough, we have five of them, which is perfect to fill a week! We’ll start with sight.

First off, sight is problematic. There are too many Biblical passages that run along the lines of the quotation above: whenever Jesus talks about others believing because they have seen something or need to see something, he seems just a little bit disappointed. This would naturally make us suspicious of the sense of sight where encountering God is concerned. Sight is linked to the need for proof. For some reason, whenever we talk about proof, sight is our sense of choice.

However, there’s another way of looking at sight, and we need not be suspicious of it. Rather than looking for proof of God’s presence, let’s use our vision to see what at first glance seems like proof against that presence. Let’s use of vision to notice deprivations in our communities to which we might normally keep ourselves willingly blind. It’s easy to ignore the homeless man on the street city or the starving child on the TV commercial. We ignore them because they make us feel uncomfortable. But we can’t respond to needs that we don’t see.

So let’s use our eyes, not to prove to ourselves that God is present, but to prove to God that we can be present to others.

…Praying For…

Dear God, you have give me eyes to see your wonders in this world. Help me to be a part of that wonder in the lives of those around me. In Jesus Christ’s name I pray. Amen.

…Sending Out…

I leave this moment with you, God, ready to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell your presence, that I may be more aware of your movement in my life.

Wake Up, Jerusalem

An interview with Peter, James, and John about the Transfiguration, performed March 6, 2011 as the homily.

The morning news show in Jerusalem is interviewing the disciples Peter, James, and John about Jesus’ Transfiguration. Since the news show didn’t pay much attention to Jesus until his trial and death (they never reported his Resurrection, considering it hearsay from biased sources), this interview is happening after Jesus rose from the dead. The disciples could not have talked about it beforehand without breaking Jesus’ command, after all. The interviewer is Benjamin Bar-Reuben of Bethlehem.

Benjamin: (talking to the camera) Welcome back to Wake Up, Jerusalem. I’m your host Benjamin Bar-Reuben of Bethlehem. It’s three weeks after a very eventful Passover here in Jerusalem, and today I’m joined by three special guests who you’ve met before on the show, (gestures to the others) Simon Peter and James and John, the sons of Zebedee. These three fishermen from Galilee were all followers of the late Jesus of Nazareth. (turning to the trio, and voice full of concern) Before I go any further, let me express my condolences for the loss of your teacher. He was by all accounts a great man.

James: Thank you for your kind words, Benjamin. But while we grieved his loss for a few days, something miraculous happened…(Benjamin cuts in)

Benjamin: Now, now…let’s not get into that again. The last time you were on the show, we had to cut the interview short because you three started talking about impossible things. People can’t come back from the dead. Everyone knows that.

James: Don’t be so sure.

Benjamin: I want to talk about something else today. I’ve brought you back on the show to clear up some confusing reports of something that happened several weeks ago before the story got buried by the events of Passover. There were some strange localized weather distortions on the top of the mountain – thunder and strange lights, like lightning – but there was no storm that night. Our viewers want to know what happened on that mountain, and you three seem to be the only ones alive that know the real story.

Peter: If we tell you the real story, you’re likely to cut this interview short as well, Benjamin.

John: That’s true.

Benjamin: Just stick with the facts and we should be all right. (grimaces towards the camera) Okay, so why were you on the mountain in the first place?

James: Jesus asked us to accompany him when he went off to pray. He often did that, but usually he would go off a little ways by himself and we would wait for him.

John: But not on that mountaintop!

Peter: It all happened less than a week from the time I told him that I thought he was the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.

Benjamin: But surely that can’t be true now. The Messiah doesn’t die on a cross. He drives out the Romans with great armies at his back.

Peter: That’s what I thought, too, when Jesus told us he was going to die. I know better now.

John: We all know better now.

Benjamin: Leaving that for the time being, tell me what made the mountaintop different. Why the changes in weather? Our viewers want to know!

James: It may have seemed like strange weather from below. But I assure you, what we saw was stranger still. When I close my eyes, I still see the brightness of the light that your viewers thought was lightning.

Benjamin: What was it then?

Peter: It was Jesus. (Benjamin tries to cut in, but Peter continues) You wanted to know and we’re telling you. This is the truth, no matter how strange it sounds. Jesus looked like I had never seen him before. He was dazzling. He was as bright as a signal fire used to keep ships from running aground.

John: It was like the sun had fallen out of the sky and lodged inside him.

Benjamin: Wait a minute. How can that be? How can a man be filled with light?

James: If Jesus taught me one thing, Benjamin, it’s that we’re all filled with light. We just hide it most of the time.

John: That night, we saw Jesus shining with all the light that God blesses each of us with. He didn’t hide any of it. Never has anyone been able to shine like that. But Jesus did!

Peter: That’s why he’s the Messiah, the Son of God, because he shines with God’s light – unbounded, undiminished, like the lights of a city on a hill. He has no thought to cover up the light.

John: And for years, he’s been teaching us to uncover ours.

Benjamin: You mean, I might have this light inside of me, too?

John: Of course you do. Everyone does. From the smallest child in the street to the Emperor of Rome!

Peter: People have always had God’s light in. Some have let it shine brighter than others. We saw two of them with Jesus when his light was shining!

James: Moses and Elijah were there, standing with him.

Benjamin: You could see Moses and Elijah?

Peter: I know it sounds out of this world, but they were there. You know what? I think they have always been there, near us, surrounding us…

John: …But it has always been too dark to see them…

James: …Until Jesus was shining on the mountain.

Peter: Moses and Elijah – and everyone who God loves – their lights never went out. The light just changed. It spread out, filling the space between things, filling the world!

Benjamin: Fascinating! But tell me, what about the thunder!?

John: That wasn’t thunder. We heard – well, it was so loud that we didn’t really hear it – we felt it in our bones. It was the voice of God.

James: God confirmed that Jesus is God’s son.

Peter: And God told us to listen to Jesus.

Benjamin: This all sounds so strange…strange and amazing…amazing and true…I don’t know why, but I believe you.

John: Maybe you are seeing us shine with some of Jesus’ light.

James: When we listen to what Jesus teaches us, we can begin to uncover the light that we spent so much time hiding.

Peter: And we can shine it all over the world.

Benjamin: How can I find the light in me?

Peter: Start be being quiet…

James: …being still…

John: …and listening.

Twenty questions (Bible study #8)

In the last Bible study, I talked about reading the Bible out loud as a way to focus our interpretive endeavor. When we read aloud, we are forced to make interpretive choices that silent reading misses. This is especially true when reading dialogue. In the Gospel, narrators set scenes, but most of the important information is conveyed through characters’ interactions with one another. The evangelists* present these interactions in various ways, but each uses dialogue as the main vehicle of communication.

When you study the Gospel, pay attention to how the writers structure their dialogue. What is said? What is not said? What are the speaker’s preconceived notions? What are his motivations? What is her background?

Here’s one example. Every time someone calls Jesus “teacher” in the Gospel according to Matthew, that someone is not on Jesus’ side. They are scribes and Pharisees and people asking Jesus questions to test him. On the flip side, Jesus’ disciples and those asking for healing always call Jesus “Lord.” In this way, Matthew shows that the former group doesn’t get that there is so much more going on than an eccentric teacher wandering around spouting eccentric ideas. While “teacher” is not necessarily pejorative, Matthew uses it to show Jesus’ opponents attempting to stifle the rumors of his messiah-ship. With this simple comparison of title, Matthew communicates the struggle for influence between the establishment and Jesus’ disciples.

Matthew does all that with two little words: “teacher” and “Lord.” Across the Gospel, there is very little extraneous information, so we rarely get an explicit statement of a character’s mood or bearing. Besides Mark’s use of “immediately,” adverbs are in short supply in the Gospel. The dramatic force of characters’ interactions is driven by the dialogue itself; this dialogue is charged with intent, meaning, and suggestion, so descriptors are distracting at worst and ancillary at best. Read through all four accounts of the Gospel, and I bet you could count the number of times someone’s mood is described on one hand. (Check John 11 for a couple).

The narrators do not need to intrude into conversations because the evangelists are pretty darn good writers. How would it be if the text said: The woman said flirtatiously, “How can you get that living water?” Jesus, feigning ignorance of her advance, responded dispassionately, “You drink of this water…”

I know. Not the best writing ever. Rather than infesting their conversations with adverbs, good writers develop dialogue that suggests what I stated explicitly in the above example. Here’s how John writes the conversation: The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. (John 4:11-14)

Of course, I’m making an interpretive choice when I read flirtation into this conversation, but John’s dialogue leads me there. Pay attention to what the characters in the Gospel say and don’t say, especially the ubiquitous dialogical motif of a speaker failing to answer the question that is asked.

Try this one on for size. At the beginning of the Gospel according to John, some priests and Levites come to question John. They ask him: “Who are you?” Here’s what he doesn’t say: “I’m John from over yonder a bit. My parents are Zechariah and Elizabeth. I’m the crazy guy who eats locusts and wild honey and wears uncomfortable shirts.” Instead, he says, “I am not the Messiah.”** Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but this does not even come close to answering their question. If sobreadboxmeone came up to me and said, “Who are you,” then responding, “Well, I’m not a toaster oven,” doesn’t really narrow it down.

But John and the Levites keep playing twenty questions: “Are you Elijah?” I am not. “Are you the prophet? Nope. Obviously, because of John’s recent activity, both he and the Levites know that this little game is about more than who John is. If it were that simple, my answer about uncomfortable shirts would have been enough. They want to know what his significance is in the history of the salvation of Israel. With this in mind, his leap to downplaying rumors of messianism makes more sense. Rather than asking him if he’s larger than a breadbox, they try a new version of their original question: “What do you have to say about yourself?” And again, John doesn’t answer their question. He speaks not about himself but about the one to whom he points: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’ ” Even here, when they ask him a direct question about himself, John points to Jesus.

By structuring a conversation in which John answers different questions than the ones asked, the evangelist offers us insight into both parties. Watch out for this kind of conversation in the Gospel (especially John’s account).

Okay, I’m approaching a thousand words about this topic, so I think I’ll stop soon. When you read the conversations in the Bible, be sensitive to how the writers put the words together. Focus on the dialogue and let it speak to you. And know that Jesus is not just talking to the woman at the well or the crowd beneath the mount. He is speaking to you and to me.

Footnotes

* This is a handy shorthand for Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, the authorities behind the four canonical accounts of the Gospel.

** Actually, according to the narrator, “He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed…” This is one of those odd places where the narrator does inject description into conversation. But it’s so rare that these few words take up lots of pages in commentaries.