Epiphany II Sermon:

“What seek ye?”

They said unto him, Rabbi (which is to say, being interpreted, Master), where

dwellest thou?

He saith unto them, Come and see.

They came and saw where he dwelt, and abode with him that day: for it

was about the tenth hour.

A number of years ago—not at this parish—I was asked to provide

pastoral care to an elderly man who had just moved from California to be

closer to extended family. He was an Episcopalian, but new to the parish.

When I reached the doorstep, his spouse greeted me, showed me to the

parlor, introduced me to her husband, and I sat down. As soon as I did,

this gentleman in his upper nineties turned to his wife and said, “Make this

man a martini. I’ll have one too.” He did not, strangely, ask if I wanted one.

I quietly received the hospitality, smiled, and said, “Thank you,” as the glass

was handed to me.

Ostensibly, I had been asked to the house to bring Communion and the

Anointing of the Sick, as is customary in these sorts of visits. But he made

it a point to let me know that I wasn’t just a priest on a call—I was his

guest, and he treated me accordingly. As the visit went on, he regaled me

with stories from his life. He had been a Madison Avenue advertising man,

adjacent to the publishing industry in the 1950s. He knew all the

Greenwich Village beatnik hangouts and had been around during the folk

music revival that gave birth to artists like Pete Seeger and later Bob Dylan.

If anything, this man was a gifted raconteur.

At some point in the conversation, my eyes wandered to a framed pen-and-

ink drawing on the wall. I immediately recognized it as one of Edward

Gorey’s Cautionary Tales llustrations. If you know Gorey, it’s delightfully

quirky stuff, and I love it. I casually said, “You like Edward Gorey, huh? Me

too.” He replied, “Oh, you mean Ted.” Apparently, he had been good

friends with him in the late 1940s. I was dumbstruck, and grateful to have

met someone so closely connected to such a captivating cultural moment.

In seeking to extend hospitality as a priest, I found myself the recipient of

truly wonderful hospitality.

To be welcomed into someone’s home is an invitation into deeper

relationship. When a new friend invites you over for dinner, they are, in

effect, saying, “Let’s get to know each other better. Let’s grow in this

relationship.” So many of the ministries at St. Luke’s Church are rooted in

this same practice of hospitality. We invite others into our parish home and

sit down together. This is precisely the premise of our Play Café.

Ostensibly, we are giving children a place to play and caregivers a bit of

relief, but what we are really providing is a place of connection and

belonging. This is vital work.

When Jesus invites Andrew and Simon to the place where he is staying, he

is inviting them into a deeper relationship. And throughout the rest of his

public ministry, Jesus does this same thing again and again. He invites

people to “come and see,” and in doing so, invites them into a deeper

relationship with God through himself.

Hospitality, as I’ve said many times, is a two-way street. Jesus wants to bring

Andrew and Simon into relationship with him through his hospitality. He

wants to enjoy their company, yes—but more than that, he wants them to

know the depths of God’s love, which he alone can perfectly express. This

is the mission of the Son of God, who was made truly human in the

person of Jesus of Nazareth.

Jesus alone makes manifest the love of God to the peoples of the earth.

He does this through his teaching and preaching, yes, but most of all

through his death and resurrection. In him alone do the majesty of heaven

and the dust of the earth meet. The Word became flesh so that we might

truly know God and be in relationship with him. Through Jesus, all the

peoples of the earth are welcomed into the household of God from which

they have wandered.

Andrew and Simon Peter, through this first encounter with Jesus, would go

on to become the first of the apostles. It is through their preaching,

teaching, and witness that we, too, come to know Christ. It is because of

Simon’s faith—his willingness to enter into relationship with Jesus—that he

receives his new name: Cephas, or Peter. Relationship with Jesus, through

faith and doubt alike, is the bedrock upon which the Christian faith and the

Church stand.

Too often, Christianity has been reduced to a set of propositions one can

either accept or reject, like any other philosophy or ideological worldview.

But the Church is not a political party with a platform or agenda. It is a

community of people who have responded to Jesus’ invitation to “come

and see.” That is why we are here this morning.

Faith, you see, is not mere assent to certain propositions. It is not blind

submission to dogma. Rather, it is our willingness to receive Jesus’

invitation and enter into relationship with him.

St. Thomas Aquinas, commenting on this very passage, writes that God

can only truly be understood through experience. Words cannot fully

describe him. We grow in this understanding by doing good works, by

following Christ. We must receive Jesus’ invitation, enter into relationship,

and walk with him.

When Andrew and Simon meet Jesus, they do not interrogate him, nor do

they conduct a risk–benefit analysis. They simply follow, allowing

themselves to be overwhelmed by the love of God. To follow Jesus,

brothers and sisters, is to be his disciple. There are no prerequisites, no

checklist of personal qualities. Jesus does not conduct a job interview or

check our references. We have already been chosen. What remains is our

response.

For many years, I thought of discipleship as an achievement, and of the

Christian faith as a set of precepts by which to live. A successful Christian,

I assumed, was one who crossed every t and dotted every i. But if being a

Christian were simply about being a good person, we would all be in

serious trouble, because most of us are doing a less-than-stellar job. None

of us is perfect.

And yet Jesus calls us nonetheless. He says, “Come and see.” He invites us

into relationship with him and bids us stay where he is staying. This is good

news.

As we remain with Jesus—eating with him at this holy table, learning from

him, and journeying with him across the breadth of our lives—we grow

closer to him and to his Father. Through this relationship, as St. Paul says,

we are strengthened “so that we may be blameless on the day of our Lord

Jesus Christ.” Through our faithfulness, through our willingness to remain

in relationship with Jesus, he makes us holy.

It is often said that we become like those we spend time with. When we

become friends of Jesus, we become more like him—and in doing so, more

like God.

“Come and see,” Jesus tells us. So let us follow him: as he teaches, preaches,

heals, suffers, dies, and then—unexpectedly—opens for us the way to

eternal life.