John 1:43-51
43 The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, "Follow me." 44 Now Philip was from Bethsaida, the city of Andrew and Peter. 45 Philip found Nathanael and said to him, "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth." 46 Nathanael said to him, "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Philip said to him, "Come and see." 47 When Jesus saw Nathanael coming toward him, he said of him, "Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!" 48 Nathanael asked him, "Where did you get to know me?" Jesus answered, "I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you." 49 Nathanael replied, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!" 50 Jesus answered, "Do you believe because I told you that I saw you under the fig tree? You will see greater things than these." 51 And he said to him, "Very truly, I tell you, you will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of Man."
Has this ever happened to you? You get home after a long day at work, maybe you fix yourself a glass of tea, kick your shoes off, and just sort of flop down on the couch or your favorite chair that’s worn just right for all your various nooks and crannies, and just when it feels as if all the worry and frustration of the day is sliding off your shoulders, your lovely spouse calls from kitchen, “Hey babe, come look at this!” Or maybe it’s your child, calling from their bedroom down the hall, “Momma, Daddy, come see what I did!” That ever happen in your house? Now, I know y’all are better people than I am, but when that happens in my house, I tend to (at frist) just shout back, “What is it?” “You got to come see!” “But I just sat down, can’t you just tell me what it is?” “No! Come see!”
If I’m honest with you, most of the time, when Kohl asks me to come and see what he’s made or what he’s drawn or what he’s set up in his bedroom, I haven’t the slightest notion as to what it is or what it’s supposed to be, but I do what every good parent ought to do: I get up, go down the hall, and when I see what he’s done I say, “WOW! Look at that! Show me what it does. How’d you do that?!” I know it’s nothing all that amazing before I ever get up from my seat, but I know that he’s proud of it, that he’s got something he wants to show off to Momma and Dada, something he wants to share with us. And every, single time, whether it’s a weird-looking stick figure drawn with a marker on a cardboard box, an unidentifiable blob of play-doh, or a random stack of blocks and hot wheels—every, single time, I’m going to get up and go see it, because he’s just so proud of it, because he believes it’s worth showing off, because he believes it’s worth sharing with someone else, and hearing about it just won’t do.
Maybe that’s why Phillip wouldn’t walk off and leave Nathanael alone. I mean, all we’re told about Philip is that Jesus finds him in Galilee and says to him, “Follow me.” We’re not told if Jesus mentioned to Philip why he should follow him. We’re not told what Philip was doing. Was he a fisherman like Peter and Andrew, a tax collector like Levi, a zealot, a guy just minding his business on an otherwise regular day?—we’re not told; all we’re told is that after Philip was found by Jesus, Philip found Nathanael and said to him, "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote…”
Now, we can gather from what Jesus says to Nathanael later that Nathanael was under a fig tree when Philip found him. What does that mean? Well, depends on who you ask: some folks point to the symbolism of the fig tree and its representation of Israel; I had a professor in seminary who made the case for fig trees being used as places of private prayer and devotion; still, some say it’s really nothing more than a way for Jesus to specify Nathanael’s location, a way of proving his divinity to Nathanael. Personally, I’m not terribly certain in any direction, but I know if someone’s sitting down under a fig tree, they’re most likely taking it easy, maybe resting beneath its broad leaves, out of the pounding sunlight, or perhaps taking a break to indulge in one of nature’s sweet blessings (though I’d prefer a pear tree). Either way, Nathanael is sitting under this fig tree, when Philip comes and says, "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote…”
Now, I can imagine this stirred Nathanael a bit. I can almost see it: Nathanael sitting under the fig tree, maybe reading a good book, glass of milk and a peanut butter fold-over next to him, when his neighbor Philip starts in about what he’s been up to. Nathanael (according to Jesus a few verses later) is an upstanding Israelite, has a strong prayer life, worships at the temple regularly, is up on his memory verses for Sunday school, tithes every week, tries his best not to cuss or think bad thoughts (you know, all the stuff good church folks do), so when Philip says to him, "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote,” you can bet Nathanael had some sense of what Philip was talking about—and he likely got excited about it. Why, I can imagine that before Philip could finish his sentence, Nathanael slammed his book shut, shook the crumbs out of his beard, tucked his shirttail in, and slipped on his shoes—he got ready quick to find out where this one about whom Moses and the prophets wrote. But then…as quickly as he got excited, his spring unwound when he heard who this one was that Philip was talking about, or to be more specific, when he heard where this one was from.
Philip tells him it’s Jesus…son of Joseph…from Nazareth. I can see it: Nathanael countenance fading, the slight frustration of throwing his half-eaten sandwich down and losing his place in his book as he untucks his shirt and kicks his shoes back off: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?"
Nazareth. Nazareth? Do you know how many Old Testament prophets came from Nazareth? Nazareth: Do you know how many notable events took place in Nazareth? Nazareth: I bet you can guess how many times that town is even mentioned in the Hebrew Bible. Nazareth was a place of no consequence, a one-stop light town, a place from where no one seemed to be, where nothing seemed to happen. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" Seems to be a fair question when all the evidence seems to point to “no.”
Of course, when you’re from a place where nothing seems to happen and no one seems to care, you tend to highlight things that might otherwise be silly or inconsequential. Why, I remember when I moved to Birmingham to go to college, I think I told just about everybody that I came from a town with the world’s only monument to a pest—the boll weevil. Most folks didn’t know or care what a boll weevil is or why a small town in Lower Alabama would have a monument to it in the middle of their town, but to me, I figured folks over in Europe had surely heard of Enterprise, Alabama and its monument to a bug (it was in a text book after all!). When you’re from a place few people have heard of, it’s the small things that excite you, like gathering around the television with family and friends and making the local paper because your audition for American Idol made it on air (even if it was only 11 seconds long). When you’re from a small town, a community that’s anything but famous, you tend to focus on those things that have the best chance of being more widely known, those things that surely someone outside of your zip code have heard about.
So I’m surprised when Philip doesn’t mention some of those things about Nazareth. I’m surprised he doesn’t try to build up Jesus’ hometown just a little bit to impress Nathanael. Maybe I’m more surprised that Philip doesn’t try to explain what it is he sees in this rabbi with a common name from a forgettable town. I mean, why doesn’t Philip give his testimony here? Why doesn’t he tell Nathanael about how, like the apostle Paul, Philip was walking along the road to somewhere only to be struck blind and hear the booming voice of God Almighty calling his name? Why doesn’t he tell Nathanael about the way his hands used to tremor, how his back was bent and how he couldn’t speak until this Jesus from Nazareth touched him? Why doesn’t he tell Nathanael about the mysterious check he received in the mail a week after agreeing to follow this nobody from nowhere? Why doesn’t Philip tell Nathanael about how he kicked the habit without counseling, twelve steps, or rehab when he met this son of Joseph? After all, that’s the way to get them to walk the aisle, right? That’s how you get them in the baptistry, to pledge money, to make a decision, to join the church—you got to have a good hook, a good story, especially if the one you’re trying to sell them on isn’t a famous person from a famous place.
But Philip doesn’t do any of that. He doesn’t try to sell Nathanael on the merits of Nazareth, and he doesn’t try to sell him a good story or share a moving testimony. What does he do then? Philip, in response to Nathanael’s question, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" simply says, "Come and see." “Come and see.” What is it? Come and see. Can’t you just tell me? Come and see. Is it worth getting up from under this tree? Come and see. Will it make me mad? Come and see. Will it change my life? Come and see. Is it worth all the fuss? Come and see…
You know, I’ve found that the things in this life that are truly wonderful, the things in this life that truly exceed my expectations, the things that really make this life worth living, are things that defy description. I can tell you all about the dirt road where I spent most of my childhood memories, about the woman who lived in the Jim Walter house on the right who used to whip me and my cousins with limbs of a peach tree for wrestling the living room, but if you want to really know what it was like, well, you’d have to go there and see it (as much as you can these days) for yourself. I can try to describe to you the way the air smells on a street in Port-au-Prince, the way the smiles from strangers and the laughs of children can melt any sort of ignorant prejudice you might harbor, but really, you’d have to go and witness it yourself. I could try to paint a picture of what it’s like for a couple dozen folks to sit around folding tables passing tamales and homemade hot sauce around, while drinking Sprite and Dr. Pepper after a hot morning’s work, but really, you’ll have to join us and find out what it’s really like.
I could tell you all about how a nobody from nowhere with nothing had his life turned upside down and inside out by a son of Joseph from Nazareth, but really, the best thing I can tell you, the only thing I can tell you, if you want to know about him, if you want to know what it’s like to have your horizons stretched farther than you ever thought possible, if you want to know what it’s like to have joy indescribable and life unbelievable, if you want to know what it’s like to live each day for someone other than yourself, then all I can say to you this morning is “Come and see.” Amen.
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