I’ve Been Meaning to Ask: Where Are You From?
Genesis 2:4-15; John 1:35-51
May 30, 2021
Emmanuel Baptist Church; Rev. Kathy Donley
Note: A recording of the worship service in which this sermon was preached may be found here: https://youtu.be/s3Z9cm5jTw4
I have seen a couple of articles recently about how to drive a car. These articles are not aimed at brand-new drivers. They are intended for people who are out of practice because they mostly stayed home during the pandemic.
They are out of practice and they need to remember habits that used to come without conscious thought. Just like those drivers who are returning to the road, some of us are out of practice. We are a bit rusty on relationships with others. We kept our distance for more than a year and, now, we might need to remember a few things. So what I have to say today is not likely going to be new information. It is intended to help us re-member, to re-connect, with that part within ourselves that is curious and relational, and to reconnect with each other.
“Where are you from?” has often felt like a loaded question to me. I knew lots of people who had a simple answer. They were from one place – a single town or a region. It was always complicated for me. And usually the person asking me didn’t want to the complicated answer. They wanted a simple answer that would help them quickly size me up. I got this question a lot when I went to Texas for college. At that time, my simplest answer was “Chicago.” Most of the time, when I gave that answer, one of two things would happen. They would say to me “You’re from Chicago? Say Wisconsin.” So that they could do their impression of a Midwestern accent.
Or they would say, “Hey, I know someone from Chicago. Do you know so-and-so?’ And I would always look at them rather incredulously. Did they really not know that the odds were about one in three million that I would know the same person they knew in all of Chicago?
You see I wasn’t from Texas and while there were many other out-of-state students, we were seriously outnumbered by the Texans. When someone asked where you were from, they expected an answer with a place that they knew. If your answer was Paris or Pittsburg, the assumption was that you meant the towns by those names within Texas, not the ones in France or Pennsylvania. If you weren’t from Texas, they were sometimes at a loss for where to go in the conversation.
Where are you from can be a good relationship building question. It can mean “tell me about where you grew up” or “tell me about the place you live now”. It can mean “help me to understand where you’re coming from, what life experiences have you had that shape your ideas and attitudes now.” Or it can send a message that you’re not from around here and you don’t belong. The question can be used to make someone feel like an outsider.
We already know this. I am just helping us to remember.
In the passage that Pattie read for us, the titles for Jesus pile up. He is called Lamb of God, Rabbi, Messiah, the fulfillment of scripture and the guy from Nazareth. Each of the would-be disciples has some preconceptions about who Jesus is. This is part of John’s way of setting up his story about Jesus. Those titles and categories will be expanded or transformed or redefined by Jesus as the story unfolds, but this is also a reminder about human nature. We are not always comfortable with the unknown, and sometimes we rush to label people, to put them in categories as a way of overcoming our own anxiety.
It is interesting to see how Jesus dealt with this. Dr. Raj Nadella suggests that the term Rabbi does not really capture Jesus’ true identity in John’s gospel. Two of them ask where Jesus is staying, where he hangs out, and instead of answering him directly, Jesus says “come and see.” Jesus invites them to his place so that they can understand him more fully. He does not get bent out of shape because of their labels. He remains open to relationship.
As people get to know Jesus, they want to introduce him to others. Philip invites Nathanael to meet him, mentioning Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth. Nazareth was a small village, so insignificant that it is not mentioned one time in the entire Old Testament nor in Josephus' list of Galilean towns.[1] One scholar claims that Nathanael is from Cana,[2] which is a town not far from Nazareth. When Nathanael sneers “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” we may be seeing some rivalry between two neighboring villages. Whatever the reason for Nathanael’s skepticism, Philip doesn’t argue with him. He just extends the invitation to come and see. And Nathanael does.
Sometimes, we at Emmanuel have been very good at introducing others to Jesus, very good at sharing our faith. We have asked where are you from? in carefully curious ways. We have listened and welcomed people who offered all kinds of answers --
I am from right down the street.
I am from another country.
I live I poverty.
I live in a middle class neighborhood.
I am gay or straight or single or divorced.
I come from a more liberal stream of Christianity or politics. I come from a more conservative stream of Christianity or politics.
I want to be in relationship with you, but I’m hoping I don’t have to give up who I am in order to have that relationship. Sometimes we have done well with that.
And then, sometimes, we have not. Sometimes, we have allowed our preconceptions and assumptions about others to shut down real relationship before it ever began. Sometimes, we have been satisfied with the relationships we already have here, and been unwilling to invest the time and energy in new ones. Sometimes, we have busied ourselves with the tasks of church – of running meetings or setting up potlucks or teaching Sunday School or writing a sermon – and we have failed to be available to people who were just trying to come and see Jesus for themselves.
I say this as an introvert who doesn’t always want to be with people. I say it as one who has sometimes stayed safely behind the tasks and programs of church instead of venturing out with caring curiosity. I also say it as someone who has desperately needed to be received with care, to be known as myself. And I say it, as a pastor who has often been required to invest my time and energy into relationship with people I would not have sought out, people I would not have chosen. And my life is infinitely richer because of it.
I am not telling you anything new. I am just reminding us of what we already know.
Sarah Culberson is a woman who set out to answer the question “where am I from” for herself. That journey led to some unexpected places. The story is best heard in her own words. https://youtu.be/Ie_m_eBevUI
There are so many parallels between her story and our theme. She had preconceptions about her biological father, which she consciously had to set aside. She had to consider his life and circumstances before she could even start to look for him. Then he invited her to Sierra Leone. Maybe he even said “come and see” and she did. I loved the description of her welcome – being given a dress that showed she belonged, hearing the song “we are preparing for Sarah”, knowing that she didn’t have to do anything, just showing up was enough. It’s a great story.
I’m thinking about some other parallels. I’m thinking about times when you or I were received without reservation and what grace that was. I’m thinking about people who have shown up here among us and they have felt profoundly welcomed, almost as if we had been preparing just for them. And I’m thinking about people who are asking “can anything good come out of the church?” Some of them are skeptical, but curious, they might just come and see, if we would make the effort to invite them and to hang out together.
Over the last year, we have remembered some of the truths of Genesis 2, the passage we heard at the beginning of worship. That text describes the creation as a living organism, where the earth and inhabitants are inextricably joined to one another, where they depend on one another, and require one another for flourishing life.[3] The lethality of an invisible virus that spread across the entire world has reminded us of our interdependence. The isolation of pandemic has taught us how vital it is to be with other people. Some people are wondering in new ways about where we are all from, about the responsibility we have to each other.
That is the other parallel I heard in Sarah Culberson’s story. She showed up and was profoundly welcomed just as she was. But it didn’t end there. Receiving hospitality led to responsibility. Finding her people meant sharing their difficulties as well as their joys. And it also meant telling the story to a wider and wider audience, so that individuals could recognize the truth in it and respond to it in their own contexts.
Friends, that is a parable isn’t it? The kingdom of God is like the woman who was brave enough to ask where am I from and gracious enough to set aside her preconceptions about her father to meet him on his own terms. The kingdom of God is like the woman who went on a journey to an unknown, foreign place and was welcomed home with singing. It is like the one who receives hospitality and takes on responsibility in an ever-widening circle of grace, because we are created for curiosity and vitality and mutuality and relationship.
It can be like that for you and for me. Come and see.
[1] https://www.progressiveinvolvement.com/progressive_involvement/2018/01/epiphany-2-john-1-43-51.html
[2] Raymond Brown, The Gospel According to John, Anchor Bible Commentary, Volume I (Garden City, NY: DoubleDay, 1966), p. 82.
[3] Kathleen M. O’Connor, Smyth & Helwys Bible Commentary: Genesis 1-25A, (Macon, GA: Smyth & Helwys Publishing, 2018) p. 57.