Lessons:
If you have ever taken an acting class – maybe in high school, maybe in university, maybe somewhere else – then you will likely have done the exercise of selecting a short line of text and seeing how many different ways that you can say it. The line might be something that your teacher made up or it might be a famous line from a famous play. For the sake of exploration, let’s say that the line in question is what might be the most famous line ever spoken on the stage.
To be or not to be. That is the question.
How many ways could we say these words that Shakespeare gives to Hamlet?
Well, maybe we could lean hard into To be and then go soft on the rest of the line:
TO BE
(or not to be). That is the question.
Maybe we could borrow the technique of the late German actor, Bruno Ganz, who according to lore said:
To be
and then paused and paused and paused, waiting, legend has it, for more than two minutes of silence before concluding…
or not to be. That is the question.
Or maybe the first sentence with its contrasting choices isn’t as important as what comes next. How about:
(To be or not to be.)
THAT is the question.
We could keep on going as long as we wanted, as long as our imaginations lasted.
Scripture, like Shakespeare, doesn’t contain a lot of stage directions or other descriptions. Most of the time, folks in the Bible just say stuff. Their words are generally not followed by, “…she said, angrily” or “…he told them, with tears in his eyes and shaking hands.” The text does not volunteer whether their eyebrows are raised, whether they are speaking through gritted teeth, Clint Eastwood style, whether they are slurring their words, whether they are giggling as they talk.
And so here is my question for this morning. We are in the Gospel of John, right near its beginning. Jesus has just been baptised. And then the very first words that Jesus speaks go like this:
What are you looking for?
How shall we read Jesus’ words?
Let’s try out a few possibilities.
What are you looking for?
So, this is a Jesus who is aggressive, accusatory, and maybe wary. This is a Jesus who sees you glancing his way on the street and says, “What do you think you’re looking at?”
Now, stay with me here. Because we are so accustomed to Serene Jesus that we may want to reflexively rule out the possibility of Cranky Jesus. But I want to suggest that this is a thoroughly plausible reading of these words.
Because John the Baptist has just seen Jesus and announced to Andrew and his friend:
There goes the Lamb of God.
And what do we know about lambs? Well, we know that, as the old expression has it, they are led with some regularity to the slaughter. This is particularly true in Jesus’ time, where the sacrifice of animals is woven into the life of the temple. John is saying a lot of things when he announces that Jesus is the Lamb of God – there is a theological complexity to this statement that could and has filled up a few books. But one of the most basic things that it means is:
There is the one who is going to die in the service of the Lord.
Before Jesus predicts his own death – and as we know, Jesus predicts his dying early and often – John the Baptist predicts it.
And so we can understand why Jesus might speak with hostility, why he might say to Andrew and his friend:
What are you looking for?
Are you two here to watch me die? Are you like the people who slow down going past the car accident, equal parts horrified and titillated, both fearing and hoping that you will see blood on the asphalt?
Are you staring because I am a dead man walking?
What are you looking for?
Let’s try another possibility:
What are you looking for?
This is Jesus as the guru with the big beard on the mountaintop, this is Jesus as Yoda. Jesus is asking a question to which he already knows the answer. The purpose of the question is not for Jesus to learn anything, not for Jesus to find anything out. The purpose of the question is for the one being questioned to learn, for the seeker to learn. For you to learn.
This is maybe the Jesus with whom we are most familiar. And I can understand why: in a lot of ways, this is a reassuring Jesus: the Messiah who is in control, who is stable and powerful, who has something like superpowers.
Jesus asking the question in this way is like a guide on a journey. He knows the path on which we walk backwards and forwards, he cannot get lost. While he is on the journey with us, he shares in none of our discovery and none of our uncertainty. When we wander off of the way and into the briars or the poison ivy, he does not follow us. He stays on the path and asks his question: What are you looking for?
When Jesus ask his question, he is really saying: I know what you are looking for. Do you know what you are looking for?
Maybe there is a trace of a smile on his face as he speaks.
One more.
What are you looking for?
So, this is Jesus as genuinely curious. Not angry and challenging but not all-knowing either. This is the Son of God, shortly after his baptism, the day after the dove has descended and the voice of the one whom he calls Father has said:
This is my Son, the Beloved. In whom I delight.
This is Jesus wandering around in stunned wonder, standing in the wake of this profound mystical experience and not sure what is supposed to happen next. In the Synoptic Gospels (so, Matthew, Mark, and Luke) this is the moment when the Spirit drives or maybe leads Jesus out into the wilderness. Here in the Fourth Gospel, this is the moment when Jesus notices that two people have left John’s side and begun to follow him.
Picture him, blinking in the sunlight, his clothes maybe not entirely dry from that day before, the silt of the Jordan still in his hair. He looks at Andrew and his friend and says:
What are you looking for?
This is Jesus who is, himself, not sure what he is looking for. This is the Jesus who shares with us in our search. We are lost and hoping to be found. And so is Jesus.
Which reading is right? Which one is true? Is it one of these three or still another? How does Jesus sound when he looks at you and he says:
What are you looking for?