This coming Sunday is Michaelmas, the
feast day of the archangel Michael and all the angels.
There’s a lady who’s sure all that
glitters is gold
and she’s buying a stairway to heaven…
Your head is humming and it won’t go, in case you don’t know,
the piper’s calling you to join him.
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know,
your stairway lies on the whispering wind?
~ Led Zeppelin, Stairway to heaven
and she’s buying a stairway to heaven…
Your head is humming and it won’t go, in case you don’t know,
the piper’s calling you to join him.
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, and did you know,
your stairway lies on the whispering wind?
~ Led Zeppelin, Stairway to heaven
“He’s not the Messiah! He’s a very
naughty boy!” ~ Monty Python, Life of
Brian
I think that Tom Wright is right when
he suggests that the key to understanding the encounter between Nathanael and
Jesus is humour.
A group of enthusiastic young men
think that they have found the Messiah, in Jesus of Sunderland Nazareth.
Philip tells his friend, Nathanael of Newcastle Cana - to which
Nathanael responds, with friendly banter, “Sunderland Nazareth? Can
anything good come from there?” But he is happy enough to come along and see.
As Nathanael approaches, Jesus
declares that he is a man of true character; to which Nathanael responds, “What
makes you say that?” Jesus replies, “I saw you earlier on.” I’ve observed you.
“Amazing,” says Nathanael, with a grin.
“You really must be the Messiah to
have such insight!” Again, banter: not sarcasm, nothing cynical – Jesus isn’t
wrong when he says there is nothing false in Nathanael’s character - just,
you’ll have to do more to convince me…
With a glint in his eye, Jesus
responds to banter with banter: “Are you convinced so easily? Well, you’ve seen
nothing yet…”
There is another joke here: John’s
favourite form, irony. The irony is not that the Messiah is standing in front
of Nathanael and he doesn’t know it. The irony is that his friends haven’t
found the Messiah at all. At least, not the Messiah they have been expecting.
And then the hook, addressed to Philip
and Nathanael: “If you stick around, you’ll see what it looks like when heaven
and earth connect.” And they do stick around (see John 12:20-22 and 21:2).
That hook takes us back to Genesis. Or
rather, it moves us on within Genesis, because John has already taken us there.
The opening of his Gospel echoes the unfolding of “In the beginning…” starting
with LET THERE BE LIGHT! and continuing through a recurring “The next day…”
(John 1:29, 35, 43).
Light // Jesus, the light of the world
Sky // the Spirit come down from
heaven
Land // Peter, the rock
Sun and moon, as markers of time and
seasons, and the stars // an itinerant rabbi - referencing a homeless wanderer
who is promised many descendants - and his disciples
So as not to labour the point, John skips
over the fifth and sixth days and takes us straight to the seventh day, when
God rested // Jesus does nothing
other than celebrate God’s goodness and love for his creation, and water is
transformed into wine simply by his presence.
Here is yet another level of humour:
joking banter, built on irony, built on a great literary pastiche. Steps on a
stairway?
I wonder whether humour isn’t also the
key to the encounter between Jacob and God.
Jacob is running for his life. He runs
until the sun has already set and he can run no further, for now. So he takes a
stone for a pillow, and tries to get some sleep. But his subconscious keeps
running…
In his dream, he sees a stairway from
earth to heaven. From failure to success. An escape route, to be grasped? Or an
impossible challenge, to fail to overcome? And climbing up and down the
stairway, angels: creatures of ancient legends, from before the Great Flood; sons
of God who had walked the earth and taken daughters of men to be their wives, and
fathered giants and heroes (Genesis 6:1-4) (far to the north, the exploits of these beings and their demi- offspring will inspire whole mythologies).
And God. Where? Ambiguously, both
above the staircase – higher than the heights – and beside Jacob – in the place
of failure, defeat. (This God is un-pin-down-able. Have you ever noticed how Jacob
starts out by failing to wrestle his brother Esau into submission, yet demands
Esau’s blessing; and ends up by failing to wrestle God into submission, yet
demands God’s blessing?)
And God said, I am the God of your
past: the God of the family you are running so hard from. I don’t mind how far
you run, because I know that you will end up back where you started…
…because I am also the God of your
future: and I will give you a future, centred in the very place and the very
family you are running from…
…and because I am the God of your past
and the God of your future, I hold your present in my hands. My angels will
report back to me on your progress, will come to your aid in time of trouble.
It is farcical: Jacob gets himself further
and further into a mess – and God is content to watch, a knowing shake of the
head, smile on his lips. But there is nothing mean-spirited about the humour:
this is no overbearing god belittling a puny mortal.
I have a set of assumptions about what
God is like, about who Jesus is. So do you. And Jesus mischievously responds, “Are
you convinced so easily? Well, you’ve seen nothing yet…”
I have a set of things I am running
away from, and another I am grasping for. And so do you. God enjoys a good
farce, has an appreciation for irony. And loves
us: past, present, and future.
That might be worth
throwing a party over. Or joining in the party Michael and All Angels are
already enjoying.
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