Pastor Nagle
01/16/2005

“As Crazy As God Himself” John 1:29-42 The Second Sunday after the Epiphany January 16, 2005
Of all the people you know, who’s the craziest? Is it a relative, a friend, someone in public life? Is it someone who’s been certified insane, or someone who’s mildly eccentric, or someone who simply has a zest for the unusual in life? Who do you know who is nuts? And if someone called you nuts, should you take offense? You probably would, but I wonder if you should. Is it possible to say that someone like John the Baptist was crazy?
You may be tiring of John the Baptist stories. Today’s gospel is the last of them for awhile. We read about him during Advent and again during Christmas, but this morning we reach a kind of conclusion when the Mes- siah whom John predicted actually shows up. Remember that John had chosen to leave the comforts of home and family to go off into the desert wilderness of Palestine. That doesn’t make him crazy, but certainly anti- social. The camel’s hair outfit he wore and the diet of locusts and wild honey he chose weren’t just like everybody else’s, but that may be a minor point. In his preaching, he pressed the need for people to offer their loyal- ty and obedience to God. Nothing crazy about that either, though he might have shouted more than some other preachers. But then John spoke of a vision in which he saw the Holy Spirit coming down from heaven, landing on Jesus’ head. Which either is colorful language or something delusional, when John pointed to Jesus and claimed that he was the Messiah of God, the anointed one, God’s choice to be among Israel, Saviour of the world. Which is sort of wild. But wilder still is that, hearing that proclamation, some of the people who had listened to John preach started following Jesus instead. Sort of stopped the lives they were living to begin some- thing new. Chucked all that had been with John and gave their all to Jesus instead. Walked away from what they were and had, left the rest of their life behind in order to follow Jesus like puppy-dogs, taking mental notes about earthly and heavenly things they never really understood. And some people think a choice like that, commitment like that, is nuts. Do you? Well, here’s a question to help you decide.
Tomorrow morning, I’m going to arrange to have a bus in the driveway to travel to a walled-in monastery where you will give up everything you own and turn aside from everything you have known, say goodbye to family and friends and spend all your time contemplating God. Forever. Do you think I’ll get many takers? And if you’re not one of them, do you think the others are nuts? Maybe not now, since these days Jesus is an ok kind of guy to believe in. But I remind you that Jesus was hugely unpopu- lar with the sensible authorities of his own day, so much so that they final- ly killed him off. So would following somebody like that seem crazy? Does it seem unusual, if not weird, that people still follow a dead guy from long ago? And does it seem even stranger when I say the dead guy didn’t stay dead? Would you wonder about the sanity of anyone who believes that? Or how about this: do you think it’s perfectly normal to believe in a virgin birth or the total forgiveness of sins or walking on water or being raised from the dead? How do you feel about obeying a divinity who can’t be seen but who expects to be worshipped? Do you think it makes sense to say that mighty God speaks to you and wants a relationship with you? If you expect that prayers are heard and that good things happen on purpose, are you nuts? Have you ever considered that this whole thing may seem awfully foolish and more than a little suspicious and calls for some kind of disconnect between reason and faith? Tell the truth, not what you think others expect you to say. The Christian story is almost outlandish, isn’t it? And anybody who just up and follows Jesus may need some serious therapy.
And someone says, that was really cute—how you pointed out the foolish- ness of what we believe. What a clever way to remind us of the import- ance of faith instead of proof. OK. But actually, I still think you’ve got to be crazy to have faith, to believe. I mean, haven’t you had moments when, thinking about people who have lots of faith, people who have more faith than you have, people who have faith when you think they shouldn’t, you consider them nuts? Or if not nuts, at least excessive. Or if not excessive, delusional. Or if not delusional, needy. Or if not needy, certainly not normal. Whatever that means. Do you know what normal means? Was John the Baptist normal? Was Jesus normal? Were the first disciples normal?
Well, if you’re not going to show up for tomorrow morning’s monastery bus ride totally stripped of wealth and family, if you think that that kind of commitment is pushing things a bit too far, if you think that’s crazy, I offer you something else to help you decide what may or may not make sense. I want you to make a list of people who have hurt you or ignored you, people who despise what you hold dear, people who disgust you and give you every reason to hate them, and I want you to go to them and give them a great big hug and tell them you love them. And if they laugh at you, or slam the door on you, I want you to try harder and hug better and kiss longer. It may take several days to visit all the names on your list, but use up your sick leave and vacation days if you need to.
And someone says, “That’s another cute one. Right? You’re just saying these things to prove a point. Right? But what’s the point you’re making? You don’t really expect us to kiss a blue state liberal, do you, or take a godless heathen to lunch or forgive the guy who raped our daughter? ‘Cause that’s not gonna happen. John the Baptist can dress up any way he wants, and he can say that Jesus is God’s Messiah if he wants, and Jesus can walk downtown if he wants and he can call together whatever disci- ples he wants, and he can even drive the bus to the monastery but I’ll be darned if I’m going to do what doesn’t make sense.” Which is the situ- ation, isn’t it. That each of us has some well-developed idea of what does or does not make sense. And if God fits into our sensible scheme of things, that’s fine. But if he doesn’t, well, forget about it. But the assump- tion is that your scheme of things is right. So how far would you go?
If a kid is being mistreated in school, would you make a big stink? What if the kid were somebody else’s? What if it were the kid’s own fault? If the government were denying basic rights to its citizens, how much would you protest? Is it ok to deny rights to non-citizens? Would you give up your job to be a defender of the weak? Is it ok to empty your own kids’ college fund to help provide a Habitat house for somebody else’s kids? Is it normal to think God will provide? Would you buck the country club rules to invite someone dirty and hungry to have lunch with you? Or lend them your car for the afternoon? Would you do any of that very long if the tide of family or public opinion turned against you? And someone says, What are you, nuts? Maybe. But is that bad?
Because, you know, some of life’s most amazing things, some of life’s most wonderful things, some of life’s holiest things, have been carried out by people who were crazy, according to the world around them. Some were people who did in fact think that God speaks to them. People who did in fact believe that we hold our wealth only in trust. People who did in fact think that even sleaze-balls are our brothers. People who did in fact believe that Jesus was serous about forgiveness. People who did in fact believe that God loved more than hated the whole world more than our neighborhood. And there are still people around today who see life in color instead of black and white. People who see excitement more than drudgery. People who are innovative with old things and creative with the rest. People who claim to have visions. Do you think we should call those people nuts?
Call them nuts and either shut them up or ship them off, hoping someone will make them normal so they fit in again? Do you think that’s some- thing desirable—that everyone fits in? Most of us do think that, because challenges aren’t all that wonderful, and upset isn’t all that comfortable, and strangers aren’t all that welcome and imposition isn’t something we would choose. And being a disciple sounds sort of crazy. But the wonder- ful news is that God is crazy too. Probably crazier than we are. Think about it. God created the world, and allowed the creatures to think they ran it. And then allowed them to mess it up. And over and over again re- created it and us, and loves us throughout. Which is not what everybody believes, by the way. Most people we know think that God is not happy and loving, and is really displeased with the way things have turned out and that he’s just waiting for reasons to zap us, and that he may choose tsunamis and certainly does choose cancer to punish us, and day by day fuels the fires of hell to prove to us once and for all who’s in charge. And to some people, I guess that makes sense. Not to me. I like the non-sense of it all—that we believe God didn’t do the logical thing, the normal thing, the sane thing, but instead turned the awful cross into a thing of wonder. Who could have shaken his head in disgust, but who looks at our miser- able lives and washes us clean. Who, after we have run off and run away and run aground and run down, calls us back and welcomes us back and leads us back into some kind of relationship with him. He loves us at the very moment when he shouldn’t and no one else does. Which is totally nuts—and far more and better than you and I have ever given each other.
But you know, what you and I have given each other hasn’t really worked well. And family squabbles and international wars just show how stupid humanity is. Would that we could give up our logical stupidity in favor of old-fashioned craziness. To be nuts. To think that there’s a purpose in life and that we have a chance to work with it and through it. And that God is calling you to make a difference. To be a good parent. To be a forgiving neighbor. To share your wealth with people in need. To use your mind for something ground-breaking. To work for good more than evil. To lead in compromise when there is difference. To not make violence the default. To speak out against what is wrong, and listen when other people are certain that the wrong is in you. To know that we get better than we deserve. To sing in the face of loss. To know that death is not the end. Which sounds vaguely acceptable in church, but doesn’t always get carried over into Monday.
Do you know how many people think that any and all of that is nuts? Do you realize how different being a believer can make you? Do you know how strange it is to live with joy and not sadness, with hope and not despair, with life and not death? Maybe you do. And if you do know that, then you’re probably nuts. As crazy as God himself. Which isn’t all bad. So this week, I invite you to think about it.