I
If you are grief-stricken fans by the way Game of Thrones ended last Sunday night,
you can get online counseling from Bark.com, for $50 an hour. I am not
kidding…
And lots of takers, apparently, for the ending
satisfied no one—not athletes, not actors or aficionados. Average fans, some of
them, said the entire last season was so hurried and simplistic that it ruined all
that had gone before.
More than a million people signed an
online petition demanding, demanding, the
entire last season be remade; which is what happens, I guess, when people
forget that a TV show, however great it is, or a move, is just a TV show. Or a
movie.
Hank Stuever, writing this week in the
Washington Post, said that sometimes, when we love our shows too much, it makes
us look embarrassingly out of touch with reality. Which is why Mr. Stuever loved
the coffee cup.
For fans of the show, no explanation is
needed.
For those of you who are not—in one
episode, somebody, a crew member or actor, left a coffee cup, complete with
cardboard sleeve, in plain sight of the camera. Viewers pounced: proof of the sloppy
carelessness of this season’s production.
The cup itself, of course, was immediately digitally
scrubbed from subsequent airings of that episode. But Mr. Steuver thinks the
cup deserves an Emmy… “because it reminds us,” he said, “that a TV show, no
matter how absorbing, is a fake, a folly, a job that someone is hired to do, so
that an HBO subscription can be sold to you…”
Cold truth, that.
But even with that in mind, the best line of the
finale belonged to Tyrion, who said this:
“What unites people? Armies? Gold? Flags?
“Stories,” he said. “There’s nothing in the world more powerful than a good
story. Nothing can stop it. No enemy can defeat it.”
Perhaps the reason Game of Thrones did
not unite everyone, ultimately divided so many people, is that it was a fake, a
folly, a job that lots of someone’s were hired to do.
The gospel, though. Now there’s the
story that can unite us, I do believer. Nothing more powerful than the story of
Jesus, his life, death and resurrection. Nothing more compelling than the
stories of the disciples. And one of the things I love most about this gospel story…
it does not scrub-out the coffee cups. It does not try to make the characters
look anything but human. It is not
fake, or phony. It is not a story for hire, but a story we are invited to join.
I give you, as exhibit A, the story of Philip. The fifth disciple. Let’s
start there.
II
You are no doubt familiar with the phrase, “I
Am Third.”
“Jesus is first. Others are second. I am
third.”
One of our Sunday School classes here at
Hawthorne Lane, back in the day, took the acronym, JOY, as their name.
In any case, “I am Third” is a familiar
phrase.
“I am fifth,” not so much.
Because I made it up, just this week.
Last Monday, in fact. Thinking about Philip, the Apostle…
Who is not to be confused with Philip
the Evangelist. Philip the Evangelist
was a second generation disciple: there are a couple of stories about him in
Acts: helping with daily communal meals as the church in Jerusalem grew;
baptizing the Ethiopian eunuch…
Philip the Apostle, on the other hand, was among the very first disciples of
Jesus, and always listed… can you guess… fifth
in the various rosters of disciples.
Simon Peter and his brother Andrew; James, the
son of Zebedee and his brother John: those four are always listed first; Judas, son of Simon Iscariot, is always listed
last.
And Philip, from Bethsaida in Galilee—a cosmopolitan
little town, multi-ethnic, multi-lingual—is always listed fifth.
Now, as Gary LaBrosse pointed-out on Monday night,
if the Apostles were a basketball team, Philip is still a starter. But he is
not a star. In fact, at least as Matthew, Mark and Luke tell it, Philip never
sees any action. He’s in the box score, as it were, but plays zero minutes,
never takes a shot.
The Gospel of John, though, tells it
differently. In John’s reporting there are no less than 4 times when Philip handles
the ball.
Game summary: two assists; one turnover; one ugly
personal foul.
Let’s go to the replay.
III
John, chapter 1.
Philip was a disciple of John the Baptist, until he
heard John say of Jesus, “Behold the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the
world.”
And so Philip changes teams. Stops following John
and begins following Jesus… which is a reminder to us that whoever has drawn
our attention or devotion, whatever has demanded our energy and loyalty, there
is time to change, to repent, to join ourselves to Jesus.
Very next day, Philip finds
Nathanael—who may have been a friend, or a relative—and Philip says to him, “We
have found the Messiah, the one foretold by Moses in the law and the prophets:
Jesus of Nazareth.”
Which, too, is a reminder, that when we
are following Jesus, our discipleship is not really complete unless we are
sharing with others what we have discovered. Not in an oppressive or
manipulative way.
When Nathanael questions Philip’s word—“Can
anything good come from Nazareth?” Philip has his best moment: he says, “Come
and see.” It was the Play of the Day
When people ask you, “Can anything good
be happening in a UMC these days?”—you might be asked by friends or relatives—I
suggest you take your cues from Philip. Just invite them here. Tell them to come
to HLUM and see.
And if they do, you and Philip get credit for the
assist.
IV
John, chapter 6. The Feeding of the Five
Thousand.
A large crowd is fallowing Jesus. Jesus
decides to feed them. He asks Philip, “Where are we to get enough bread to feed
such a crowd?” Jesus was already clear what he was going to do: it was a test.
Philip replies, “Six months of wages
wouldn’t buy enough bread for everyone to get even a little bit.”
(Klaxon) Turnover. Unforced error. Even though he
is a disciple, he shows little faith. He is more aware of what they don’t have
than what they do.
Which is like looking in the mirror: we,
too, are often more perplexed than thankful, doubt more than we believe, shake
our heads and do not lift up our hearts.
One of the other disciples, Andrew,
said, “A little boy has five barley loaves and a two fish…”
Jesus takes them, gives thanks for what
they do have; distributes the food and all are filled. More than filled. And
even Philip, despite the turnover. A reminder to us to be thankful for what we
do have, and to share it, even if it is not much. Jesus can do miracles with
that kind of faith.
V
John, chapter 14. Here comes the foul.
Personal. Flagrant 1. Should have been Flagrant 2. Philip should have been
ejected immediately.
At the Last Supper, the night of Jesus’
arrest. Jesus has just given one of his most beautiful, one of his most
memorable speeches: Let not your heart be troubled… I am the way, the truth and
the life… If you know me, you know the Father… from now on you do know him and
have seen him.”
Philip says, “Lord, show us the Father
and we will be satisfied.”
Anyone in here have a whistle? Grief.
Jesus is aghast. “Have you been with me
so long, Philip and still you don’t
know who I am? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father!”
A cautionary reminder to us, who also,
sometimes, want to see more than just Jesus.
How it must break his heart when we, who
have been with him so long, still ask for signs, for proofs, for demonstrations
that we imagine will satisfy. If only we are healed, if only we are delivered,
if only we get the job, if only we get the girl, the boy, the parking place…then we will be satisfied. Then we will
believe—at least until next time—if Jesus just shows us something more.
When he is already with us. In Word.
Sacrament. When two or three are gathered together, and even more when all of
us are gathered together, he is with us—loving, teaching, guiding, equipping:
uniquely loving and gathering us together; uniquely equipping us and sending us
to represent him in the world, to make a Jesus difference, a godly difference
in the ungodly world…when he has been with us so many times.
And still we ask for more proof.
Which is a flagrant, technical, personal
foul on our Lord. For Philip, and us.
VI
But before we bench Philip, or
ourselves… John 12. When some Greeks come to Philip as say, “Sir, we wish to
see Jesus.”
Why did they ask him? Maybe because he
spoke Greek, but even that is not absolutely clear. But how did they know him?
We are not sure. Maybe they too were from that cosmopolitan little town.
One way or the other, there is this moment when
Philip, for all of his limitations, all of his inconsistent play, is presented
with a great opportunity: to be the go-between: to bring some people to Jesus.
He gets help: he finds Andrew, and together they tell Jesus that these Greeks
are looking for him.
Which prompts Jesus to tell us a story
that cannot be defeated, that can unite us all: “Unless a grain of wheat falls
into the ground and dies, it remains a single grain. But if it dies, it
produces a great harvest. And I, when I am lifted up (that is, crucified), I
will draw all people unto myself: Greeks, Jews, black, white, brown; rich,
poor, gay, straight”—nothing can stop this story of Jesus and his selfless
love.
And Philip, the Fifth Disciple, is a
part of it.
Just like you, and we are a part of it.
Not stars, many of us. Maybe not even fifth.
Maybe down the bench, most of us, most of the time. But you got to be ready to
step up when someone says to you, one way of the other, “We want to see Jesus.”
So many people wish, want, need, long to
see Jesus… even if they can’t say it that way. But they look to us, and who
knows why, exactly. Maybe because they think we speak their language. And they
want to know if it’s true… they want to see something of Jesus in this godless
world.
Philip didn’t always get it right or play error-free;
nor have we. But he was the very one to bring those Greeks to Jesus. In your
words, your action, your loving and giving, your mercy and compassion, you are
the one, the very one, who can do the same.
