Reflection and Poem: When I Don't Wish To See Jesus

A Reflection for V Lent                                    All Saints’ Church, Southern Shores, N.C. 

March 18, 2018                                                  Thomas E. Wilson, Rector

Jeremiah 31:31-34        Hebrews 5:5-10          John 12:20-33             Psalm 51:1-13

When I Don’t Wish To See Jesus

In the Gospel lesson from John for today, some Greek-speaking Jews attending the Passover Festival come to Philip, whose Greek name implies that he could speak Greek, and say, “Sir we wish to see Jesus.” I think since they may not have spoken Hebrew or Aramaic, they wanted to have Philip to be the translator for them in their discussion. 

Nothing has changed in the last couple thousand years; we still feel like we need a translator to speak with Jesus and a lot depends on who we choose.  For instance, in the last election there were groups who said their political agendas were based on “Biblical Christian Principles”.  They said that abortion was hated by Jesus, although Jesus doesn’t seem to get around to mentioning it in the Bible; the same with a strong national defense, the death penalty, Supreme Court nominees, law and order, locking up or beating opponents, favorable national trade policies, economic systems to promote wealth, fiscal responsibility by cutting back health and welfare programs, our love of violence using guns, and stopping immigration. The things that Jesus did get around to saying, a lot, indeed they were at the center of the Gospel, were interpreted as peripheral. The thing is that we have this tendency to translate Jesus to fit our own agendas.

This is not new. When Christianity was young and was persecuted, their main argument was that they needed to be tolerated as one would tolerate any religion in the Roman Empire. They argued for mercy and peace. However, once they got to be a legal, and even a favored religion, they changed their viewpoint and called for death for heretics and for wars to conquer pagans for the true faith, all in response to what they said they were hearing Jesus telling them to do. They would go see Jesus at church on Sunday and they would get their marching orders with a blessing of slaughter and discrimination the rest of the days of the week. The church had lost reliable translators of Jesus and good ones were few and far between. But God kept calling people forward as translators like Benedict, John Chrysostom, Francis of Assisi, Julien of Norwich, Catherine of Sienna, William Penn, John Wesley, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Thomas Merton, Henri Nouwen and others. Who is your translator?

A mark of a good translator is the person who wishes to see Jesus translated into language of this world, a person who listens carefully and spends time finding the meaning behind the words. Sometimes the meaning in the act of translation is lost because of either incompetence or fraud. Last year when Hurricane Irma came through Florida, the public safety authorities grabbed this man who had a deaf brother and asked him to translate for the deaf at the televised press conference. The man knew a little bit but he was way out of his depth and ended up signing gibberish. 

I remember thirty years ago when I had a group of hearing impaired parishioners, I decided to learn sign language - but it was harder than I thought. For example, when I would wish them “The Peace of the Lord be with you”- the sign for peace is two hands coming together so that the right palm is placed on the left palm and then turned so the left palm is on top and then both palms down, and move down toward the side. It comes from the shaking of hands to make peace. However, what I was doing - since I was congratulating myself - I got excited and I cupped my hands like I was making a hamburger and so I was saying, “The Hamburger of the Lord be with you.” They laughed and signed back rubbing their palms together as one who would press cheese - “And with Cheese!” 

Five years ago when President Obama went to South Africa for Nelson Mandela’s funeral, there was a fake sign language translator who knew no sign language and was schizophrenic.  He was paid beforehand, was not vetted, and signed gibberish like “hand me the fork.” The big giveaway for a fraud in sign language is that they are not really listening; good translators are either mouthing the words with facial gestures that match the words or looking slightly downward in order to pay closer attention to the tone of the phrases.

There is a scene in the movie “Get Out!” written and directed by Jordan Peele that I was really impressed with. The hero, Chris, who is black, knows something is not right when he visits his white girlfriend’s parent’s house. There is a black maid, Georgina, who is hypnotized so she says the right words, but at a deeper level she knows she is lying and it rips her apart

Chris;   All I know is sometimes, when there's too many white people, I get nervous, you know?

[pause, Georgina laughs creepily with tears in her eyes]

Georgina: Oh no, no. No. No no no no no no. Aren't you something? That's not my experience. Not at all. The Armitages are so good to us. They treat us like family.

Jesus was a prophet in the same vein as Jeremiah, who in his writings for today said God’s covenant with humanity to love us was still in effect, even though we keep breaking our part of the agreement. He hears the hope of God saying:

I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.” 

There are good people and there are also frauds and incompetents who act as translators for those who wish to see Jesus. Good translations are about lives rather than words. There is a song from the musical, My Fair Lady, where Eliza is so tired the Professor’s hectoring and Freddy’s words of affection that she explodes:

Freddy
Speak and the world is full of singing,
And I'm winging Higher than the birds.
Touch and my heart begins to crumble,
The heaven's tumble, Darling, and I'm...
Eliza
Words!
Words! Words! I'm so sick of words!
I get words all day through;
First from him, now from you! Is that all you blighters can do? 

When I was doing that service for the deaf thirty years ago, the problem was less my competence but my arrogance. I wanted to show them that I could do anything. I did not wish to see Jesus in the space between us but to show my competence.  As Jesus warns in today’s lesson, “Verily, verily I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies. It remains a single seed; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” Their kind laughter told me that they wished to see Jesus between us and they helped us create Holy Space. I studied harder because I wished to see Jesus with them.

There are days when I don’t wish to see Jesus because I am so absorbed in making sure that the pews are filled, the budget made, and that people are impressed with all the religious language I speak. This changes only when I really listen to what Jesus said: “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will be my servant also.” 

There are people all over the place wishing to see Jesus and looking for translators. I would suggest that if you wish to see Jesus, listen and empty your own egos out and don’t get bogged down with religious words or words you feel compelled to say.  Show them that is not all us blighters can do. 

When I don’t wish to see Jesus?

I don’t wish to see Jesus when I am right

and the person I am angry with is wrong.

I wish to see them beg and sing a song

of being sorry for they now see the light.

I don’t wish to see Jesus when I am rich

because I wish holding on to my wealth,

knowing that it will ensure better health

living longer and not ending up in a ditch.

I don’t wish to see Jesus when he looks at

me with sorrow in his eyes for my hiding

from his love, preferring to go on riding

roughshod on neighbor like a spoiled brat.

But anyway Jesus sees right into my heart

and lovingly invites me to live into my part.