SERMON FOR JANUARY 17, 2021
     Elizabeth Eaton, the presiding bishop of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, has called a gathering of the rostered ministers of our church for January 19. The invitation opened with this somewhat awkward slogan: “Activate each of us so more people know the way of Jesus and discover community, justice and love,” and then reminded us that “[t]his past November the ELCA Church Council affirmed a new Future Church design.” On Tuesday we will hear presentations from the executive director for Domestic Mission and the executive for innovation and director of the ELCA Leadership Lab. The presentations will explain what the Future Church initiative is and the next steps for implementing it. Behind this lies the grim reality of declining membership in the denomination, a continuous increasing trend for some years. 
     The New Hampshire Lutheran clergy cluster has been meeting regularly during the pandemic via Zoom on Tuesday mornings. When it came to scheduling the gathering this week, the host moved it to Thursday so as to avoid a conflict with the Bishop’s forum. This confused some of the pastors. They were in the habit of keeping Tuesday mornings open and had other commitments for Thursday. Apparently the Future Church presentation had slipped off a number of radar screens. Once that got clarified, there was still some discussion about the necessity of moving the clergy cluster meeting. As one pastor put it, “Does any one care about the church-wide thing? I was not planning on being on that meeting. Does it matter as we move around the furniture on the Titanic? Just my opinion.” Several others expressed skepticism about the Future Church, if less vehemently, but recognized the need to be informed at least about what was going on at the national level.
     I am an ecclesiastical fossil, formed by a bygone era in the church’s life, and so I will attend the Bishop’s meeting Tuesday morning simply because my bishop has asked me to. For some time I have been anxious about what may lie ahead for this church that has shaped my life over decades. And I am bewildered by the shrinking numbers of people committed to communities of faith, by the apparent lack of interest in the Gospel. Because I would have no life without the love of Jesus, no purpose without his promise of mercy and the power of his grace to restore my soul and lead me in paths of righteousness. 
     Every year in these Sundays after Epiphany we read texts from the Gospel of John. For last year and this year these are stories of Jesus calling his disciples, the beginning of the original Future Church initiative. Watching Jesus walk by, John the Baptist exclaims, “Behold the Lamb of God!”, and two of his disciples immediately take off to follow him. One of them is Andrew, who then brings his brother Simon Peter to Jesus. The next day, having traveled to Galilee, Jesus finds Philip, who in turn finds the skeptical Nathanael. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” he objects, when Philip identifies Jesus, the Son of Joseph, as the one to whom the law and the prophets testify. 
     It may seem that Nathanael flips very quickly based on minimal evidence. “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you,” says Jesus, and immediately Nathanael acknowledges him as Rabbi, Son of God, and King of Israel. Jesus made reference to a messianic sign foretold by the prophet Zechariah: “I am going to bring my servant the Branch. For on the stone that I have set before Joshua, on a single stone with seven facets, I will engrave its inscription, says the Lord of hosts, and I will remove the guilt of this land in a single day. On that day, says the Lord of hosts, a man shall call his neighbor under the vine and the fig tree” (Zechariah 3:8b-10). And so Jesus fulfills this messianic expectation by calling Nathanael and then promising him that far greater things are yet to come, wonders wrought by God through Jesus that Nathanael will witness. The Lord has seen to the heart of this man, declaring him to be an Israelite in whom there is no guile.
     “Come and see,” says Jesus. And they are off and running, Andrew and Peter and Philip and Nathanael, being found, following, finding others and urging them to come and see for themselves. It is not a complicated program for enlisting followers. It is simply a matter of inviting others to come into Jesus’ presence so that he can cast his light on their lives. 
     According to these stories in John, discipleship begins with questioning: “When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, ‘What are you looking for?’ They said to him, ‘Rabbi, where do you abide?’” (1:38-39). “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” “Where did you get to know me?” “Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree?” Knowing and being known; indeed coming to know ourselves as Jesus does, and weighing his question through the changes of our lives, “What are you looking for?” Andrew and Peter and Philip and Nathanael each followed their individual path, but they did not travel alone. Discipleship is a shared activity; we are always exhorting and encouraging one another to “come and see.” “We are pilgrims on a journey, we are travelers on the road; we are here to help each other walk the mile and bear the load.” This is what makes the decline of the church so distressing. Jesus calls us into relationship with him and at the same time with one another. The fullness of hope and joy he intends for us requires that it be shared.
     “One person says to another, ‘I follow Jesus and invite you to do so too.’ Later on as the church grows, parents bring their infant children to Jesus in baptism and then bring them up to follow him,” wrote one commentator in response to today’s Gospel. Another observed, “[T]he story teaches us that those of us who are called to follow Jesus, call others to follow Jesus. Jesus called Andrew, who called Peter: ‘Come and see.’ Jesus called Philip who called Nathanael: ‘Come and see.’ In my case, Jesus called my mother and father, who called me: ‘Come and see. Follow me.’ I hope that I have helped call my children and others in my care to follow Jesus.”  I imagine many of you, like me, hope that as well, but what we know is that our children have not followed after us. They are decent, ethical people; they reflect on the purpose of life and their obligations to others; they ask questions of meaning and value, but they do not explore the answers within a community of Christian faith. Despite our best efforts and expectations. As one of my church friends commented, she figures she should plan her funeral service in detail ahead of time, because no one in the next generation of her family will have a clue what to do after she dies.
     It is important to remember that we never bring anybody to faith. We can extend the invitation, lay the groundwork, give compelling witness to our own experience. St. Paul claimed that he had become all things to all people that he might by all means save some (1 Corinthians 9:22). Most of us are not that flexible; we are marked by our history, our culture, our era, and the limits these impose on our character. We come and see in particular ways, and that is what we have to share with each other, both within and outside of our faith community. But it is Jesus who makes himself known, and it is his presence alone that satisfies hungering spirits and redeems lives. He has done this for us. And he will continue to do this for people we know and people we will never see, through generations yet unborn. “Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man.” Amen.