St George's Cathedral, Cape Town

A sermon preached by The Reverend Bruce W. B. Jenneker in the Cathedral of St George the Martyr, Cape Town, at Evensong on the Second Sunday of Easter, 19 April 2009

This evening the lectionary takes us to the 14th chapter of John's Gospel, back to before the passion, death and resurrection of our Lord. On Maundy Thursday we read from chapter 13 - you will remember John's account of how Jesus had gathered his disciples for a last meal, and then when the meal was over, how he washed their feet, giving them an example of how they should serve one another.

With chapter 14 begins what is known as the Farewell Discourse of Jesus – a long series of sayings in the style of a Last Will and Testament. This final discourse recalls the testaments spoken by the patriarchs on their deathbeds, bequeathing property and wisdom to those they leave behind. Jesus has no goods and chattels to dispense; instead he describes the way in which his disciples are to follow him and gives them the power to do even greater works than he has performed in their midst. Now, after having washed their feet, Jesus predicts that one of them will betray him, and tells Peter that he will deny him three times before the cock crows. The disciples are seized with consternation, confusion and despair. Jesus tells them not to be troubled, not to lose heart because things are falling apart, because the worst is about to happen, and the bottom is falling out of their world. 'Believe in God, Jesus invites the disciples, 'Believe in God; believe also in me.'

For the Community of the Beloved Disciple – the community out of which the Fourth Gospel arose - the invitation to believe was a crucial aspect of their memory of Jesus, a key element of the Gospel. In fact, it could with accuracy be said that the purpose and intent of John's Gospel is to inspire belief in Jesus Christ. In the prologue to the Gospel we are told that John the Baptist was 'a man sent from God to bear witness to the light, so that all might believe in him.' At the very beginning of the Gospel there is this declaration of God's intention that all might believe in Jesus Christ, the light that was coming into the world. At the end of chapter 20 we read, 'These signs are written that you might believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.' As the Fourth Gospel begins, so it ends – with an invitation to believe.

The word 'believe' is essential to the Gospel of John, indeed scholars of the Gospel tell us that 'believing' was a fundamental element in the life and identity of the Community of the Beloved Disciple. The Greek word for believing occurs 98 times in the Fourth Gospel; in English translation it occurs 111 times compared with 19 times in Mark, 9 times in Matthew and 10 times in Luke. It is important to note that it is the verb form that we are counting here – to believe, believing, believed. For the writer of the Fourth Gospel and the community out of which it arose, faith is believing, an action, a dynamic effort and commitment, not a stagnant affirmation or lifeless assertion. Believing is abiding in Christ, as the branches of a vine. Believing is bearing fruit, fruit that will last. Faith is believing. It is confidence transformed into action. It is trust engaged, hope risked and confidence embraced.

Now Jesus talks of his Father's house to which he goes to prepare a place so that where he is there the disciples will also be. Many dwelling places come into it. Jesus coming again and taking them with him comes into it. That the disciples know where it is and the way there comes into it. Now Thomas speaks up. Thomas is an endearing character, isn't he – he reminds me of Eeyore in the Winnie the Pooh stories. Flat-footed and practical, realistic and down-to-earth. No metaphors and figures of speech for Eeyore, just the facts, plain and simple. Thomas has something to say. In a voice that probably betrays both his confusion and his impatience, he says, 'We have no idea what you are talking about – you say you are going somewhere and that we know where that is; well, we have no idea what you're talking about, let alone where this mysterious place is. You say that we know the way, we don't have a clue, and in any case, how are we supposed to know the way there when we don't know where there is?

In John's Gospel each time Jesus is confronted by one of the very big questions, he answers it in the same way, in a manner unique to the Fourth Gospel, with an 'I am' statement – I am the bread of life; I am the living bread; I am the light of the world; I am the gate; I am the good shepherd; I am the resurrection and the life; I am the true vine' Now he answers Thomas' question by declaring that he is the way the truth and the life.

Thomas and his colleagues are looking for 12 steps, seven habits, a programme, a set of laws. The answer, Jesus says, lies in a relationship, in a commitment, in an enduring intimacy. I am the way – do not go on a pilgrimage to find a way to get to me. I am the truth – do not delve into speculative theology or abstract philosophy to get to me. I am the life – do not explore other lifestyles and patterns of living. Come to me, Jesus says; risk surrender, dare to trust, embrace me, love me. Believe in God; believe also in me.

This is the invitation of our risen and vindicated Lord: Come to me - and find peace or your troubled soul. Come to me - and arrive at the safe harbour of your destiny. Come to me - and in the coming be found and in being found find yourself

Unfortunately, our reading from the Fourth Gospel does not end with this challenge and the promise it offers. Jesus goes on to say something profoundly troubling to us third millennium Christians who live in a secular society and a pluralistic culture. 'No one comes to the Father except through me.' Wayside preachers and televangelists, mega-churches and whole denominations have used this saying of Jesus to build high fences around the gospel, to raise unscalable barricades to block interfaith dialogue, outlaw contact between Christianity and other faiths. I wonder if Jesus ever said anything that our time has found more controversial.

I have struggled with these perplexing words. But as exclusive as they appear on a first reading, a careful interrogation of them yields very different results. First, from the perspective of John's gospel itself and the portrait of Jesus which John so painstakingly paints, it is very difficult to understand this saying to mean that every other faith is a cul-de-sac. 'I am the gate,' Jesus says, 'I have other sheep that are not of this fold and I must bring them also.' Secondly, the syntax of the saying demands careful attention. Of course, the Fourth Gospel is written in Greek and this saying is cast in the special from of a Greek double negative. 'No one comes to the Father but by me.' In Greek syntax a double negative is to be understood as an emphatic positive. Following this rule, 'No one comes to the Father but by me,' should be understood as 'Everyone who comes to Father comes to the Father through me.'

Here is good news, gospel tidings worthy of the Fourth Gospel. For this Gospel sees the action and ministry, mission and achievement of Christ as the renovation of the entire universe, the realigning of the whole of reality, the restoration of the cosmos. For the Fourth Gospel, what happens in Jesus Christ is a work of cosmic proportions. His mission is far beyond the Jews although it includes them; and extends way beyond the church, although the church has the privilege, joy and responsibility of knowing him and having heard his message. What Jesus is proclaiming here is a universal amnesty in his body and by his self-sacrifice. How his sacrifice benefits those of other faiths is not for me to know or guess. That his sacrifice radically renovates the universe and for ever and for everyone breaks open the way to fullness of life and to God, is the faith I share with the writer of the Fourth Gospel.

Whenever I am tempted to outlaw some hysterical conservatism and veto some constricted fundamentalism, I am reminded of some poignant lines from a poem by the American poet, Edward Markham:

They drew a circle to shut him out:
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.
But Love and I had the wit to win,
We drew a circle that took him in.

This man Jesus, Mary's son, the rabbi of Nazareth in whom the face of God shone and in whom the heart of God pulsed with tender love, this man Jesus, every time and with every one redrew the circle of our taboos and proscriptions. While we stood by smug in our righteousness that the circle we had drawn quite rightly cut out the heretic, the rebel, the thing to flout, he stepped up to that line in the sand, blurred it out with his bare feet, and redrew the circle wider, and no one as left out. And still we step outside the circle to make it narrow and excluding, and still he draws the circle wider. And wider. And wider. Wider to match the reach of his outstretched arms on the cross and to draw into his saving embrace the whole of everything. Nothing excluded. Nothing left behind. Nothing forgotten.

O for grace to stand in the circle of that embrace.

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