Glory Moves Into the Neighborhood
Today we begin to read John’s gospel – a place in which we will linger from now through Easter as we follow our reading plan. As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, John’s gospel does not include the story of a baby born in sub-standard housing in Bethlehem. There aren’t angels or shepherds or magi. John’s story doesn’t have the oft-sought after glimpses of the Christmas tradition.
Rather, John’s story launches with words tying together the BIG story of God with the person of Jesus – from creation to incarnation to the coming Kin-dom.
The first words of John’s gospel are intended to take the reader (or hearer) all the way back to the first verses of Genesis, to the creation story.
In the beginning, John proclaims, was The Word, and the Word (in the original Greek, the logos) was with God.
The concept of “logos” cut across multiple philosophies and religions in the first century. It was probably used by the author to draw a wide circle of people from different backgrounds into the narrative – with the assumption that they would bring their own initial interpretation to their hearing of the text.
Logos is translated as word in many versions of this scripture, and the broader implication intended by the author was rooted in Jewish philosophy. The logos, the Word, was the creative plan of God for the whole universe. It would have hearkened back to moments in the Hebrew scriptures where God’s actual words initiated and executed creation. Let there be light, and there was. Let there be a separation between the land and the water, and there was. Let there be creatures on the earth, in the skies, and in the waters, and there were.
It would have hearkened back to the moment when God’s words governed the Hebrew people through the law handed down on Sinai. You will have no other gods before me…
John’s gospel takes the power of logos – of God’s plan for all of creation - and connects Jesus to it.
Jesus is the Word of God. As the Word of God, Jesus is connected all the way back to creation and to the handing down of the Law. And to take it a step deeper, the Word of God was WITH God and the Word of God WAS God.
The Word IS God.
If we keep with that narrative thread in these first 18 verses, side-stepping for a moment the introduction to John the Baptist, the Word of God takes on flesh to live among us. Here is the incarnation – not a birth story, but in an assertion of long-standing relationship and intention, the fullness of God’s intention, that is now enfleshed among the people.
The gospel writer continues – we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son full of grace and truth. In this way, the gospel writer paves the way for upcoming stories in which we as readers (or hearers) will “see” Jesus’ glory.
I want to sit with the word “glory” here for a moment. Our pilgrimage since mid-November has been our movement “unto glory.”
In our worship planning meetings, we imagined the growing light of the season as a representation of that journey “unto glory.” At one point, we determined that only with full-on stage lighting could we possibly capture the bright shiny-ness of God’s glory.
In modern usage, glory generally implies some positive magnificence. We were caught in that vision as we planned for this season’s worship… this is why each week there are more and more candles on the Table. We can’t afford stage lighting so we thought we’d make place glow with candles.
But from the original Greek text, the word here is “doxa” which is more nuanced or complicated than the way we understand glory today.
Its usage extended to mean “authority” or divine worth. We get the word “orthodoxy” – meaning “right belief” or “authoritative belief” from the same root doxa that is translated here as glory. So maybe glory is something bigger than magnificent.
What if it has more gravitas?
Expanding our understanding of glory might really expand our view of the events of Christmas and the life of Jesus as it unfolds, especially through the eyes of John’s gospel.
What if in the places where we read “glory” we think about the way God’s authority and truth is manifested? As John writes, his glory is full of grace and truth.
I have sat with that quite a bit this week. I wonder if grace and truth might render “glory” to be more earthy. A little less radiant and bright. A little more “boots on the ground” or rubber hitting the road, if you will.
Stick with me.
In Sarah Henrich’s commentary on this text on Working Preacher, she says:
Jesus is heaven opened among us—he bears God’s glory. It is hard to recognize it in a world that has defined glory to be about magnificence, grandeur, and the like. (Look up synonyms for “glory” and you’ll see!) We love beauty and mistake it for God’s glory. Can we train ourselves to see, to honor the glimpses we get of a glory that looks like truth and grace, like a call, like truly seeing God’s spirit indwelling even us as the Holy Spirit animates us?
I wonder if we might see God’s glory in the work of Bethesda Cares when their volunteers are out on the street overnight tracking down our unhoused neighbors in order to build relationships, to keep people safe, warm, and healthy, and find permanent housing solutions.
I wonder if we might see God’s glory in the hospital worker who changes the linens, takes out the bio-hazard waste, mops the floors because it is how they care for others.
I wonder if we might see God’s glory in our own tentative movements toward justice and mercy, compassion and hope. Even when the world around us might see those actions as a waste of time, a lost cause, inviting “the wrong kind of people” into our homes, to our tables, into our lives.
Throughout John’s gospel, we are going to see characters who point to God’s glory – to God’s truth and grace - and it will not always be pretty. John’s gospel does not shy away from that.
Right in the middle of today’s text, we are introduced to John, who was sent by God to “testify to the light,” or to point to the messiah and say, hey look – he’s the one.
The one eating with sinners. Yes, him
The one who has a scrappy band of followers. Yes, him.
The one who doesn’t shy away from the unclean. Yes, him.
The one flipping tables. Yes, him.
The one who dies a horrible, disrespectful death. Yes, him.
Throughout John’s gospel we will be introduced to people who SEE Jesus and in Jesus they see light, grace and truth. Where light, grace and truth are not to be mistaken with beauty and magnificence.
How are we a witness to God’s grace and truth, even when it is not pretty, glowing, beautiful? When “awesome” is about power and authority, justice that turns the power structures upside down, even when it is not pleasing to the eye or the senses?
My prayer is that we will carry that question with us into Christmas, watching for places where we see God’s grace and truth made manifest. May we be those that see and then show others what that looks like. May we be those who participate with God in making grace and truth visible to others.
I really love Eugene Petersons “The Message” translation of the latter part of today’s text:
The Word became flesh and blood,
and moved into the neighborhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes,
the one-of-a-kind glory,
like Father, like Son,
Generous inside and out,
true from start to finish.
May it be so.
Amen.
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