A sermon by Associate Minister Elsa A. Peters, June 27, 2010
John 1:35-42
Beloved. It’s repeated this beloved one, in this gospel. Over and over again, we hear about this particular person – this “one that Jesus loved.” That appears again and again in the narrative of the Gospel of John. Without a name or a face, this particular individual is always there when it matters most.
At the Last Supper, the beloved casually reclines next to Jesus. At the cross, when Jesus instructs his mother that this is her new family, “the disciple whom he loved is standing there beside her.” When Mary rushes to tell Peter the good news that Christ has risen, “the one that Jesus loved” is the other that hears this news. It’s not too long after that this disciple – the beloved one – recognizes Jesus from the boat while Peter fishes in the nude. And then, after Jesus has instructed all of the disciples to feed his sheep, it’s Peter that once again gets bent out of shape that this beloved disciple gets all the credit. It’s really a shame. I mean, poor, poor Peter but this has happened before. The Beloved Disciple is always the one that has the “true faith in Jesus” in the Gospel of John. It’s this disciple “whom Jesus loved” that “was closer to Jesus” than Peter ever could be. That’s Peter’s problem though. Not yours.
You are more likely to get tripped up over who wrote this text. After all, in that same passage where Peter gets all hot and bothered, as we hear echoes of the beloved, we also learn that it’s the penmanship of this disciple that crafted the stories contained in the Gospel of John. “This is the disciple who is testifying to these things and has written them, and we know that [this] testimony is true,” but as you may notice, it doesn’t say who this beloved disciple is. There’s no name. There’s no description. There’s no indication of where this person comes from. It’s not even clear if it’s a man or a woman. We only know that this is the disciple that Jesus loved. This beloved disciple.
Now this question only really matters because we want to know who Jesus’ favorite was. We want to know whom Jesus loved so much that a whole community followed in the teachings of this beloved one. We want to understand this person – or at least, it would be nice to have a name. Of course, we know that Jesus loves us too. Jesus loves us all. Not just this disciple. Jesus loves you. Jesus loves me. Before our children attempt to understand the testimony offered in the Gospel of John, we teach them to sing this truth that Jesus loves them because the Bible tells them so. It’s something we’re told again and again in this church. It might not happen in other places – but here we remind each other again and again: You are beloved.
In the other gospels, before Jesus begins his ministry, a voice comes from heaven to announce this wisdom. You are the beloved. It doesn’t come to you and me. It comes first to Jesus. In the waters of the Jordan, we hear that Jesus is beloved of God. We like this idea so much that we translate this message to each person who comes to in our family of faith. We say it when a child or an adult is baptized. It’s so important for each of us to remember that we are indeed beloved. We are loved. It’s not just Jesus that is beloved by God. It’s you. It’s me. In the waters of baptism, we are washed in this love.
We are assured of it. We are held in it. We hear this affirmation above all others. Or at least, we try. It perks our ears up when we hear others say it – as it did for the writer Mary Gordon. In her new book, Reading Jesus, she talks about visiting this particular congregation where a Catholic priest somewhere in San Francisco shared a story about this man with whom the priest worked. In a visit with this man, who happens to be mentally handicapped, the priest asked this man if he prayed, he said he did. Then the priest asked what he heard when he prayed, and the man said: “I hear: ‘You are beloved.’” When the priest shared this insight with the congregation that morning in church, he added, “This is what we should always be hearing.”
It’s true. This is what we should always be hearing. It should be in our prayers. It should ring in our ears. You are my beloved. Above all else, this is what we should hear: You are my beloved.
And yet, this assurance isn’t offered in the Gospel of John. There is no baptism. John the Baptizer is there, but there is no water. There is no voice from heaven. Instead, John stands in the middle of the crowd shouting again and again, “Here is the Lamb of God!” But… No one hears. No one listens. It just doesn’t have the same ring to it. No one pays attention until this day when John is again with two of the disciples and repeats his claim, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!”
In that moment, when Jesus invites the disciples to see, this particular disciple hears. It’s this disciple that heard this truth above everything else. It’s this disciple that understood in that moment – for whatever reason – that she was beloved. Or he was beloved. Tradition tells us lots of things about who this disciple might have been, but I believe that it’s what this disciple heard that reveals why she or he is beloved. It’s not the identity that matters. None of the details really matter. What matters is what this disciple heard in that moment beside John and Peter.
You are beloved. In what that disciple heard in that moment, a gospel was created. In that hearing, in whatever it was that this disciple understood, in being beloved by God a community of people started to listen. As the theologian Raymond E. Brown remarks, this person came to “[embody] … the knowledge and love of Jesus.” Isn’t that something we all want? To know it deep inside ourselves? You are beloved. And so, there’s certain brilliance to the way that this gospel was written. Unlike the other gospels where Jesus is the one that is beloved, there’s a space holder in this gospel. There’s no name given to this disciple. There’s no gender to clarify their identity. It could be you or it could be me. This gospel is written in such a way that the reader can make the choice of being that beloved one. It’s not just Jesus that gets that honor, but it’s a space for you to embody the knowledge and love of Jesus.
You can choose to recline by Jesus at the meal. You can choose your own family with Jesus’ blessing. You can hear the good news that Christ has risen. You can recognize the Risen Christ when no one else does. (Or perhaps while everyone else is fishing in the nude.) You can have the option of hearing this blessing that we all need so much. It’s your choice. The invitation is there. In this gospel that we falsely ascribe to some guy named John, you can step into these words and experience the wonder of being the “one whom Jesus loved.” It’s your choice, but the invitation is there for you to be the beloved disciple, to be the one who heard: you are beloved.