This Week: Lent 5B
Gospel: John 12:20-33
There is much to say about the Greeks wanting to see Jesus in the gospel this week. And about the glorification in the second half.
But I’m inclined to focus on Philip and Andrew. Yes, I’m a fan. But also that it reminds us of their calling. When John the Baptist pointed Jesus out to Andrew and the dude just started following. Literally walking behind the dude. I imagine he’s thinking “I’m going where you’re going.”
Then he goes and gets his brother, Peter. That Peter.
And then Jesus goes to meet Philip based on the idea that Andrew and Peter know him.
That’s how Jesus collects disciples, apparently. They just follow along and invite people to join them. Maybe collect the new guy’s guy from back home. Now we’ve got a crew.
Philip finds Andrew
The Greeks find Philip who apparently needs Andrew to help. Maybe its a question he can’t answer. Andrew’s the guy, he thinks. So he finds Andrew who is like I don’t know! Maybe we just ask him! and they go find Jesus.
There’s something funny about this, of course. But it isn’t so much laugh-out-loud humorous as strangely comic. Almost silly. Like a game of Telephone.
It is entirely human.
I think we miss this when we think about the Greeks wanting to see Jesus and then get intensely focused on an evangelical turn in Christology. Or dig deep into the atonement. It feels alien to me when we’re hearing about Philip going to Andrew going to Jesus. Like we’re missing the more important part of the story.
Which isn’t a dig on theology. I’m a nerd for theology.
It’s more like—we’re missing a greater theological message when focusing on a particular one about maybe accepting some Greeks onto the team.
A theology of invitation
When I was in discernment, I was invited to reflect on my namesake. Not the living person I was named for, but the apostle, Andrew. His role in the gospel of John is simply inviting people. A kind of go-between. He brings his brother to Jesus and the boy with the loaves and fish. That’s his job.
Who am I? Am I not a reflection of that figure—the great inviter? At least in spirit?
It led me to imagine a ministry of invitation based on a theology of invitation.
Inviting people to see the Jesus I met. Who I follow.
The one I simply chose to walk behind. Not because I got kicked in the head like Paul and decided to stop being a total jerk. No, I metaphorically walked behind the guy and one day he acknowledged I was there.
Active theology
A theology of invitation isn’t in conflict with the flashier concepts of evangelism and atonement. We shouldn’t begrudge the impulse to focus on these more obvious and well-worn terrains.
But it almost feels like we’re avoiding the elephant in the room when we skip over the central action in the story. Action that itself reveals a theological conviction. A conviction about the role of place, connection, and human contact.
And let’s just say it: how easy it is to ignore the actions of the underutilized disciples literally doing something in this gospel!
This isn’t mere evangelism. It is an active theology of conviction. Of invitation. People who believe in doing something that reflects that belief.
Of course, this gospel passage has the literal voice of God in it, so I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that trump card. But perhaps consider the depth from reflecting on a bit of contact and invitation. Of curiosity and conviction. That maybe this Jesus we’re following is up to something worth sharing.