"At About 4 PM"

Text: John 1:29-42
Theme: “At About 4 PM”
Second Sunday after the Epiphany
January 16, 2011
First Presbyterian Church
Denton, Texas
Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

In the Name of Jesus

So you’re driving down the road with the radio on. The programming is interrupted with commercials – as it always is. The announcer says: “If you think the economic problems of 2008 were bad, you ain’t seen nuthin yet” – or words to that effect. Then, listeners were advised to go to a website to watch a video and listen in to the dire predictions of what is yet to come. The invitation included a warning which said that some of the materials may be controversial and even offensive. I made a mental note of the website.

Back in the office, having fired up the computer, I listened to this economic “expert” “predict” what was coming. Due to massive debt, the American dollar will no longer be the world’s currency of record. Hyper-inflation will hit. Martial law may have to be imposed. There could be rioting and fighting in the streets.

As the internet video droned on with all this economic prophesying, the office phone rings and it’s a friend of mine telling me that I’m about to receive, through email, a link to an internet video. I’m thinking, “Oh goody, does he listen to the same radio station? Or is this ‘internet video’ day?” This one was different. It featured a certain Linda Stone, a former Vice-President at Microsoft , delivering a lecture in Sweden. She talked about how modern forms of communication enable – if not, create -- what she calls “continuous partial attention.” Among other things, she pointed out that our attention spans are continuous but only partial. It’s a very fancy, educated way of saying that we get distracted; we nod off; we can’t focus; we play mental hopscotch; we hear but we don’t listen. Her assessment was almost as dire as the economic one. The very technology that had the high promise of setting us free is now enslaving us. Given the profusion of information, and the vast number of means in which the information is disseminated, it’s no wonder that we cannot process it all. Hence, we daydream. One listener to the Stockholm lecture wrote this: “We live in a really noisy world and we are trying to stay on top of it – like a bunch of hyper-alert anxious multi-taskers who are constantly over-stimulated…What is personal? What is private? What is intimate? When everything matters nothing matters anymore. Do you connect with me? Do I connect with you? Hey, you only add me (on Facebook) and I add you back amid the noise.”

Enter today’s gospel to the myriad voices vying – and hoping for – our full, undivided attention. It says that John the Baptist “saw” Jesus coming toward him. Having seen Jesus, he disseminates his information by way of his voice. He does the job and accomplishes the task that was His to do. He says, “Look! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” That’s what Jesus does (take away the sin of the world); that is His task to do.

I have no doubt that the authors and producers of the internet videos I just referenced are very sincere. They believe that they are performing a service. They hope that more and more folk will listen to what they say, and that who they are and what they say will gain a following.

People listened to what John the Baptist said. As our reading points out, he even had disciples – that is, people who followed him. Again, on the very next day, he repeats himself: “Look! The Lamb of God!” One of our great Bible scholars, William Barclay, rejoices in John’s modesty. He writes:

(John) must have known very well that to speak to his disciples about Jesus like that was to invite them to leave him and transfer their loyalty to this new and greater teacher; and yet he did it. There was no jealousy in John. He had come to attach people not to himself but to Christ. There is no harder task than to take the second place when once the first place was enjoyed. But as soon as Jesus emerged on the scene John never had any other thought than to send people to Jesus.

Having heard John speak, two of John’s disciples “followed” Jesus, we are told. Jesus hadn’t even said a word – yet. But then he turns around and sees them following Him. Were they ten yards away, or fifty, or three hundred? We are not told. Then, Jesus does speak. He asks a question. It’s an incredible question. In the Greek, it’s “Ti Zeitete?” It can be variously translated – as follows: “Who are you searching for? Why are you searching? What do you seek?”

Jesus does not say what we might expect Him to say: “Alright, sit down; be quiet; listen up; this is the deal; here’s what we’re gonna do.” Interestingly, this approach is what some folks want. They’d much rather have someone tell them what to do, and then, when it doesn’t work out, blame it all on the person who told them what to do. But clearly, our Lord doesn’t want people who check-in their brains at the door and tow the party line. Jesus is not a football coach. He’s not after automatons or robots. Instead, he asks them a question; in love, he draws them out. His continuous attention – full and not partial -- is on them.

He, in this Gospel, is asking us – we who claim to follow Him -- the same questions: “Who are you searching for? Why are you searching? What do you seek?”

How we answer these questions – with our words and our lives – is huge!

To be sure, there are those who seek security – in terms of their health, their current and future economic well-being, and so forth. No wonder there are internet videos, etc. Andy Rooney of 60 Minutes fame once said: “It’s not that I want to be rich. I just don’t want to be poor. I want to stay even.” With security, we are in a better position to be “even”, or of good use for our loved ones, ourselves, and our world, right?

At the same time, there are those who search for meaning and purpose. In the poem O Me! O Life!, Walt Whitman asks and answers his own question about meaning and purpose. He writes:

O me! O life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill'd with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I,
and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the
struggle ever renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see
around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.
That you are here--that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Jesus asks: “What do you seek?” Someone will surely answer, like Whitman: “’The powerful play goes on.’ And I seek to ‘contribute a verse.’”

As I’ve said, some search for security; others search for meaning and purpose and to “contribute a verse”. Still others want peace. The late John Lennon, a member of the Beatles and something of a poet and lyricist himself, kind of spoke for all the peace-seekers when he wrote and sang:

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one.

Only ten short years after the bloodiest century in world history, we can be forgiven for seeking a little utopia. Indeed, how we answer the question of Jesus is huge.

If you’re not sure how to answer or how to even start considering the question, look at how the two men in today’s story responded. Jesus asks: “What do you seek?” They answer with a question of their own: “Where are you staying?”

The answer is right there in the question. They sought to stay with Jesus.

The author of today’s Gospel, whom I believe was one of the two, said that this all happened at about four in the afternoon. Pinning down the exact time is not unimportant. Right now, according to my watch, it’s 11:45 AM. Perhaps there’s someone here this morning that has heard anew the question of Jesus – “What do you seek?” – and is ready to answer: “I want to stay with You, Jesus.” If that’s so, might I suggest marking down the time?

The next day, one of the two who spent the day with Jesus, a man named Andrew, went to tell his brother who was named Simon. He said, “We have found the Messiah.” And he brought him to Jesus. Jesus looked Simon in the eye. In the original language, the word for look means more than a passing glance. It suggests a concentrated, intent gaze, a look that sees into someone’s heart. That’s what Simon experienced.

When Jesus looks at us, it is not with a passing glance or with continuous but only partial attention. He looks deeper. He truly sees who we are and what we can become. Not only does he see the realities. He sees the possibilities.

Not a brief glance I beg, a passing word,
But as Thou dweltst with Thy disciples, Lord,
Familiar, understanding, patient, free.
Come not to sojourn, but abide with me.

The powerful play does go on, and you -- with Christ! -- may contribute a verse.

Amen.