The Son of Man

 The Son of Man

John 1:43-51[1]

All of us have our favorite “images” for Jesus. Unfortunately, the source of those images is not necessarily the Bible, but our own culture. Western Civilization is filled with art works that portray Jesus, typically looking and dressing like someone from the artist’s own time and place. The advent of films has only expanded these images of Jesus. They range from the serene figure in “The Passion of the Christ” to the strung out and possibly deranged character in “Jesus Christ Superstar.” For most of us, the image of Jesus we know best is the picture that has hung in many of our homes and churches. It was painted by the American artist Warner Sallman in 1940, entitled simply “The Head of Christ”, and it depicts a very “American” Jesus.

This “imaging” of Jesus goes back to the Bible itself. The apostles and teachers who wrote the New Testament used words to describe who Jesus was and is. They called him “Teacher,” “Master,” and “Messiah.” In the episode that precedes our Gospel lesson, John the Baptist called him the “Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.” They saw Jesus as the one who had been crucified but who had risen and had ascended to God’s right hand, exalted to reign as the “King of Kings.”  We still use these and other NT images to try to understand who Jesus was and who he is for us today.

One feature in the story of Jesus is that the people of his day, including his own disciples, continually came to him with their own ideas, and he continually corrected them. We see this dynamic in our Gospel lesson for today. They called him “Messiah,” “Son of God,” and “King of Israel,” but he insisted on calling himself “Son of Man.” Part of the reason was their own pre-conceived notions about him based on what they may have seen or heard. In the Jewish culture there were lots of expectations about what a “Messiah” would be like and what he would do for their people. But when faced with those expectations, Jesus insisted that he was much more than they assumed him to be.

Following Jesus’ baptism, John the Baptist directed two of his own disciples toward Jesus. One of them, Andrew, found his brother Simon (also known as Peter), and told him, “We have found the Messiah” (John 1:41). Something similar happens in our lesson when Philip sought out Nathanael. Philip told him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote” (John 1:45). Initially, Nathanael was skeptical about Jesus. But later when he met Jesus, he exclaimed, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” (John 1:49).

 All of this may sound very natural to us. But I’m pretty sure Andrew and Nathanael didn’t understand what they were saying when they called Jesus “Messiah,” “Son of God,” and “King of Israel.” They expected Jesus to miraculously deliver them from their enemies, and to re-establish the Kingdom of David. Jesus had to tell his own closest friends over and over that wasn’t his mission. They were looking for a human deliverer; mighty in battle and wise as a ruler but nevertheless human. And the kingdom they imagined pales in comparison to the kingdom that Jesus intended to bring: the kingdom of God.

Jesus’ insistence on calling himself “Son of Man” may seem confusing to us, because we tend to assume that “Son of God” refers to him as fully divine and “Son of Man” refers to him as fully human. So why didn’t he call himself “Son of God”? I think the answer lies in that when Jesus’ disciples called him “Son of God” they meant he was the extraordinary human being chosen by God to lead the people of Israel to their former glory, but nevertheless a human being. As we see throughout the Gospels, Jesus responded by calling himself the “Son of Man.” In our lesson for today, Jesus told Nathanael and the others that they would see “heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man” (John 1:51).

In order to follow Jesus’ intent, I think we have to understand the background of the “Son of Man.” It comes from Daniel 7, where at the end of his vision of all the man-made kingdoms of the earth brought to an end by God’s kingdom, Daniel sees one like a “Son of Man” who comes “with the clouds of heaven” and appears before God, as if he were equal to God (Dan. 7:13)! And what is said of him should sound familiar to us: “To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed” (Dan. 7:14). With that in mind, I would say Jesus refers to himself as the “Son of Man” in order to indicate that he was much, much more than people imagined when they called him “Messiah” and “Son of God.” He had not come simply to restore Israel; he had come to rule over a kingdom that would encompass all the peoples of the world!

It’s not easy to understand how Jesus could be both “fully human” and “fully divine” at the same time. It’s tricky to balance those two in our minds. And it’s always been easy for us to fall off on one side or the other. The witness of the Bible clearly affirms both. Jesus “was born of woman as is every child, yet born of God’s power as was no other child.”[2] It takes more than a sermon to fully elaborate who Jesus was and is. For now, I will say that as the “Son of God,” Jesus came to save us all. As the “Son of Man,” Jesus came to establish God’s reign of peace, justice, and freedom for the whole human family!

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[1] ©2021 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 1/17/2021 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] A Declaration of Faith, 1977, 4.1 (Presbyterian Church in the United States, 1977; reissued by Presbyterian Church [U.S.A.], 1991).

Heaven Opened

 Heaven Opened

Mark 1:1-11[1]

There is a sense in which we have all closed ourselves off in this modern world. Our lives have become so complicated, so unpredictable, and so “different” from what we were used to that we naturally want to protect ourselves. That’s especially true when it comes to “strangers.” We tend to close ourselves off from those whom we may perceive to be a threat. That is, I think, part of the cause for the impasse in our country right now. We surround ourselves only with those who confirm our own biases, and we don’t even listen to those who have a different take on things. We all, to some extent, live in a world we have closed off to what is “other.”

In some ways, we get this from the Bible. There are passages and even whole books of the Bible that convey the idea that “we” have to protect ourselves against “them,” whoever “they” may be. Reading those parts of the Bible leads us to think that God’s purpose is not at all the broad, inclusive gift of love we hear Jesus talking about. Rather, it sounds much more constricted, reserved for a very few who practice certain well-defined standards of living. It seems rigidly uncompromising in that there is no tolerance for any kind of “falling short.” With that kind of a view of heaven itself as basically “closed,” it’s easy to transfer a “closed” mindset to life in general.

You may be asking what this has to do with our Gospel lesson for today. I can’t say for sure, but I wonder whether Jesus’ baptism may have been a formative experience for him, providing at least some inspiration for his unique message that God’s love is open to us all. Mark tells us that when he was baptized, Jesus saw “the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him” (Mk. 1:10). Then a voice came to Jesus: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased” (Mk. 1:11). I’ll be the first to admit that these aren’t ordinary experiences for us, and it may be hard to understand what it all means.

In the first place, I think we have to notice that, in contrast to the account of Jesus’ baptism in the other Gospels, here everything that happens is directed toward Jesus. He sees the heavens torn open; he sees the Spirit descend on him as a dove. He hears the voice that addresses him: “you are my Son,” and “with you I am well pleased.” If we remember that Jesus was “fully human,” I wonder whether this kind of experience may have been crucial for someone who was about to launch a reorientation of people’s whole relationship with God! We tend to assume that a “fully divine” Jesus wouldn’t need that kind of assurance. But if he truly was “fully human,” perhaps he did!

In Mark’s Gospel, the opening of the heavens, the descent of the Holy Spirit upon Jesus, and the divine voice all point to the message that Jesus is “the son of God” (Mk. 1:1). Ironically, however, in Mark’s Gospel that message is only recognized after Jesus dies on the cross—and by a Roman Centurion! I think the main reason for this is Jesus fulfilled the role of “son of God” in a very different way than most people expected. They expected Jesus to reinforce their idea of heaven “closed” to all but those who, like them, were “righteous” in a very particular way. But Jesus “opened” heaven by extending God’s grace to those who seemed undeserving.

To a significant degree, that also had to do with the message Jesus proclaimed. In the next few verses, he says it this way: “The time is fulfilled, the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news” (Mk 1:15). That in and of itself wasn’t unique. But the way Jesus filled out what that meant for people was very different indeed. It meant that he had come to offer God’s grace and mercy and love to the least and the last and the left out.

Again, when you listen to Jesus, it seems that he is talking about God from the perspective of heaven “opened” rather than closed. We may never know, but it’s interesting to wonder whether Jesus’ vision of heaven “opened” at his baptism inspired his ministry and his message.[2] It would explain how he was able to fulfill his ministry of reorienting people’s whole relationship with God, despite all the pressure he faced from those who wanted to keep the doors to heaven shut tight. It also helps us understand how he was able to continue to pursue that goal of “opening” heaven even when it led him to the cross.

As we think about what this means for us, I believe we who claim to follow the one who opened heaven for all people must offer that same openness to the people in our lives. I know that’s not easy. The appeal of a closed heaven in which only those who are righteous “like me” are included is that it is predictable and safe. We can get so overwhelmed at times that it’s only natural for us to respond with fear and anger. And we “close” ourselves to those whom we see as “other.” That’s not the way Jesus lived, though. He offered a heaven opened to all—including his enemies who were working to have him killed. Again, I know that’s not easy. If we are going to open ourselves like Jesus did, like God did, we have to be willing to take the suffering and pain that people endure on ourselves—just like Jesus did.[3] Though it can be a hard road, I believe Jesus called those who know the blessings of heaven opened to share that same spirit of openness with others.

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[1] © 2021 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 1/10/2021 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2]2 Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Christ: Christology in Messianic Dimensions, 89–91. Among other things, he says that Jesus baptism shaped his message that “in the kingdom of Jesus’ Father, what rules is the justice of mercy for all the weary and heavy-laden.”

[3] Cf. The Study Catechism, question 45, answer the question, “Why did Jesus have to suffer as he did?” In part the answer is, “In giving Jesus Christ to die for us, God took the burden of our sin into God's own self to remove it once and for all. The cross in all its severity reveals an abyss of sin swallowed up by the suffering of divine love.”

Grace Upon Grace

Grace Upon Grace

John 1:1-18[1]

It’s not hard to understand the sentiment that putting 2020 behind us is “good riddance.” It has been a hard year for all of us. We who enjoy being around people have struggled with the isolation. For some of us, 2020 has been positively brutal. The longer the pandemic goes, the more likely we are to know someone who has had the virus. Even worse, the longer it goes, the more likely we are to know someone who has died from the virus. For many reasons, we have experienced the losses of this year more deeply than perhaps ever before.

When we go through hard times like this, we can respond in a variety of ways. I’m concerned that some of us are hoping that changing the calendar will somehow make it possible for us to “go back” to the way things were before the pandemic. And while I look forward to the day when we can gather freely again, based on my experience I would say that “going back” is never really an option in life. In truth, who really wants to “go back” to major cities clogged with traffic and smothered in smog? Who really wants to “go back” to a way of life that can fairly accurately be described as a “rat race”?

Our Gospel lesson for today is about another major change in human experience: the “Word” who was with God in the beginning and who is God became “flesh.” And he did so in order to reveal the truth of God’s amazing grace and unfailing love to us all. That’s a hard concept to wrap our heads around. How can God really become human? I can’t explain it, and I don’t know that anyone ever has or ever will. But I believe it. Not because of philosophical reasons or a biological miracle. I believe it because at the heart of our Gospel lesson is the message that the God whose very nature is love entered our world in the person of Jesus in order to share that love with us all.[2]

If there’s one word in the New Testament that summarizes the gift that God has given to us in his son our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ, it’s grace. And so it comes as no surprise to us when our Gospel lesson says that the first Christians saw in Jesus “the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth” (Jn. 1:14). More than that we are told, “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace” (Jn. 1:16).  

Because we’ve heard words like this from the Bible so many times, it’s easy for us to overlook the fact that John’s Gospel goes “over the top” to describe the gift we have received in Jesus the Christ. I’m afraid that phrase “grace upon grace” gets lost in our hearing. In fact, our translations have a hard time putting it in words. Some of them, like the NIV and the NLT, render it with “one blessing after another.” I prefer Gene Peterson’s translation in The Message: “We all live off his generous bounty, gift after gift after gift.” In this first chapter of John’s Gospel, the meaning is clear: Jesus comes to us as the one who brings God’s grace. And he brings so much of it that all you can call it is “grace piled on top of grace.”[3]  

John’s Gospel uses other words like light and truth and life to describe the gifts Jesus brought to us. But there’s one very important aspect of this gift that is clear in John’s Gospel. The divine Word became human in the person of Jesus in order to make God known to us (John 1:18). The NT doesn’t offer a lot in the way of explanation about what “incarnation” is or how it took place. But it does have some definitive things to say about what it means for us. And one of the central affirmations of the NT is that the loving and grace-filled God whom Jesus reveals to us truly is God.[4]

If you’ve been joining us in reading through the Bible this year, you may have some question about that. The image of God in the book of Numbers is a very different one—if “common” Israelites got “too close” to God they would be struck dead. The image of God in Deuteronomy is equally troubling—anyone who sins must be executed in order to prevent an angry God from destroying the people. I struggle to make sense out of those ideas. About the best I can come up with is that they must have had something to do with how people understood God in a very different time and place.

But that is definitively not the God whom Jesus came to “explain” to us (John 1:18, NASB). Jesus shows us the God who showers us all with “gift after gift after gift,” with “grace piled on top of grace.” That may be hard for us to see in our actual lives this year. It may be even harder for us to grasp that everything we’ve been through has been accompanied by God’s grace. If we look at it from that perspective, I think the truth of our experience this year is not one of trying to “go back,” but rather one of moving forward into the new life that God is creating for us all. It may be hard to accept 2020 as a “gift” from God, but if we can look at it through the lens of “grace upon grace,” perhaps we can see it as an opportunity to grow and learn to live in better ways than ever before.

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[1] © 2021 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 1/3/2021 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.

[2] Cf. Jürgen Moltmann, The Trinity and the Kingdom, 114, where he describes the incarnation as an expression of the “eternally self-communicating love of God.” Cf. also ibid., pp. 120-22.

[3] Cf. Christine D. Pohl, “Homeward Bound,” The Christian Century (Dec. 27, 2005): 19. Cf. also Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics 4.3.1:236, who speaks of it as “inexhaustible, victorious grace which can be followed only by more grace.”

[4] Cf. Gail R. O’Day “The Gospel of John” New Interpreters Bible IX:524, “John 1:14-18 is not theological speculation about the character of the incarnate Word, but the testimony of those whose lives have been changed by the incarnation.”

From This Time Forth

From This Time Forth

Isaiah 9:2-7[1]

When life seems to be stuck in a rut, it can be hard to adjust our perspective. We get so focused on the “rut” that we can’t see much beyond that. If things keep going on the same day after day, all we can see is more of the same. After a while, it can get to you. After a long time, we can lose hope and wonder what the point of it all is! That’s a challenge even in the best of times—we seem to be so wired to see what’s wrong that we can miss what’s right. In these times, when we’ve been facing a pandemic, an economic crisis, and political and social turmoil, it might seem impossible to find any “good news” with which to lighten the burden.

The people about whom our lesson from Isaiah speaks are said to be living in darkness. That wasn’t necessarily the case for the people of Isaiah’s day. But he seemed to know that they would face hard times in the future. Specifically, they would be conquered by a foreign power. Not only would they experience the violence of war, they would also know firsthand the injustice of oppression. We know from history that after their defeat, they worked to provide for their families only to see a substantial portion of it going to the despots who were masters of their land. It’s very likely they saw themselves stuck in that situation with no way out. Many of them may have assumed that this was simply going to be their lot in life.

Into the midst of that dire situation, Isaiah announced the coming of light into their darkness, the coming of joy into their despair. He promised in the name of the Lord that the “yoke” of their oppressors would be broken. Even more, he promised that the violence of war would be no more, for all the implements of warfare would be destroyed, and even the uniforms of soldiers would be burned. Isaiah promised that a child would be born who would bring true peace and justice to them. And the promise was that this peace and justice would define their lives “from this time forth and forevermore.”

 Isaiah calls the one who would come to bring this light, “Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace” (Isa. 9:6). Given our perspective, and our traditions of worship at Christmas, we naturally assume that Isaiah was predicting the coming of Jesus here. But to make that assumption would mean that his message didn’t really apply to the people living 700 years before Jesus was born. If we read our lesson in its historical context, it seems clear that it’s talking about the birth of a king who would lead the nation of Judah to freedom by establishing peace and justice. Given the setting, it’s likely that in the first place Isaiah was talking about the birth of Hezekiah, who was known as the best of the kings of Judah.

But even the best of kings are still only human. Although Hezekiah’s reign was a bright light in comparison with his ancestors, the sober truth is that the lofty promises God made to his people through the prophet were not fully realized in that day. The fact that even the best of the kings of Judah fell short gave rise to the hope that one day a king would come who would truly and finally fulfill the hope for justice that would enable all people to thrive together and that would bring lasting peace.

That was what made it possible that Matthew could (and I would say should) present Jesus as the ultimate fulfillment of the promised one who would come to set things right “from this time forth and forevermore.” As the words of the Hymn “O Holy Night” remind us, “His law is love and His Gospel is Peace; Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother; And in His name, all oppression shall cease.” We celebrate his birth because it marks a major turning point in God’s work of fulfilling his promise.

If we’re honest with ourselves, however, our world is still plague by warfare, violence, injustice, and oppression. People in our own community experience these burdens in their daily lives. What are we to make of a promise that hasn’t yet reached complete fulfillment, even after so many years? Some turn cynical, and view lofty promises like these as “wishful thinking.” Some turn to despair, and simply go deeper into the darkness. Some simply try to fill their lives with all that this life has to offer in the effort to ignore the emptiness in their souls.

But there is another way to look at this. While it is true that the promises God made so long ago through the prophet Isaiah have not yet been completely fulfilled, I think we can say that what we see in the birth of Jesus is the dawning of the light. In him we have the hope that God is not yet finished with his work of salvation. Through Jesus we can trust that God will be faithful to keep the promises he has made—if not in our time, on the final day. As Isaiah said so powerfully, “the zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this” (Isa. 9:7, NIV)!

In Jesus, we have the promise that one day God’s name will be hallowed on earth as it is in heaven and God’s kingdom will come on earth as it is in heaven and God’s purpose will be done on earth as it is in heaven! And that means a day when all oppression is undone and all violence is banished and all injustice is removed. What remains is the peace and the joy of life as God intended it. The fact that we already see this light shining in the darkness sustains our hope that God will fulfill every promise in due time. But it also points us to the good news that God’s peace is already here for us “from this time forth and forevermore.”

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[1] ©2020 Alan Brehm. A sermon delivered by Rev. Alan Brehm, Ph. D. on 12/24/2020 for Hickman Presbyterian Church, Hickman, NE.