Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Jesus’

Una parte del eterno enigma de David reside en la tendencia de sus súbditos a presentarle sus propias verdades incómodas mediante estudios de casos inventados. Pocas veces un rey ha tenido que descifrar las intenciones de su pueblo mediante parábolas.

Se puede suponer con cierto grado de confianza que hay algo más en esto que una complicada convención para hablar con la realeza. Probablemente dice algo sobre David.

Pero, ¿qué dice exactamente?

La simple torpeza parece un rasgo bastante simple para atribuirlo a este complejo personaje. Tampoco parece especialmente inaccesible, como para que quienes desean una audiencia tengan que idear un ardid espectacular para conseguirla. 

El profeta Natán y la anciana de Tecoa podrían estar apelando al hábito poético, casi romántico, de David de indignarse. Ya sea contra un hombre rico de una parábola o, como podemos vislumbrar en el Salmo 51, atribuido a este rey, las emociones más nobles parecen fluir en David como un río crecido, incluso cuando abandona las tareas concretas de, por ejemplo, ser un padre capaz.

De hecho, 2 Samuel presenta a un rey con un corazón absurdamente grande, capaz de simbolismos heroicos y contradicciones ridículas. ¿De qué otra manera un asesino con una libido desmesurada se habría ganado el cariño de miles de años de lectores como lo ha hecho este rey hebreo?

A riesgo de caer en la trivialidad, David es único y, al mismo tiempo, un hombre dotado de un agudo sentido de la justicia y grandes ambiciones morales para sí mismo. Cuando David cae estrepitosamente al suelo, a muchos de sus lectores no les cuesta reconocer el eco de su propia experiencia.

Puede ser un hombre vil, tanto por negligencia como por cálculo. Sin embargo, también es capaz de amar profundamente y de sentir una sed apasionada por las acciones justas, por encima del engrandecimiento personal y el enriquecimiento que eran el dominio aceptado de la realeza levantina de entonces, al igual que de los privilegiados que ostentan el poder en nuestros días.

Este impulso romántico de David se refleja incluso en su respuesta al dolor. Llora desconsoladamente, en voz alta, entregándose por completo al teatro de la pérdida representada públicamente. Se atreve incluso a llorar ante los cielos para ver si su hijo, fruto de la relación con la mujer de Urías, puede salvarse de su declive mortal, pero abandona el intento en un instante cuando el niño sella su destino al morir. El séquito de David observa con asombro las contradicciones que caracterizan el carácter de su rey. Pero quizás no sin afecto.

David es grande. Sus virtudes se elevan, sus fracasos se exponen ante todos. Sus enemigos no tuvieron ningún problema en difundir sus debilidades, ni sus amigos en aferrarse hasta la muerte a su generoso corazón.

Imaginemos que el mal pudiera ser eliminado de este David en alguno de sus hijos. Imaginemos el reinado de un davídico en el que no hubiera engaño.

Read Full Post »

A sermon delivered to the family of Wethersfield (CT) Evangelical Free Church, 22 December 2025


if you’ve been with us over the last few weeks, you know that we are immersed in a sermon series entitled In God We Trust. Today’s message is the last installment in that series. I’ve given it the title ‘Trustworthy with the whole wide world’.

In the interest of time, I’m going to read just the first ten verses of today’s Bible passage.Is. 11:1 There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit. 2 And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD. 3 And his delight shall be in the fear of the LORD. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide disputes by what his ears hear, 4 but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; and he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. 5 Righteousness shall be the belt of his waist, and faithfulness the belt of his loins.

Is. 11:6 The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them. 7 The cow and the bear shall graze; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the cobra, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder’s den. 9 They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.

Is. 11:10 In that day the root of Jesse, who shall stand as a signal for the peoples—of him shall the nations inquire, and his resting place shall be glorious.

Is. 11:11 In that day the Lord will extend his hand yet a second time to recover the remnant that remains of his people, from Assyria, from Egypt, from Pathros, from Cush, from Elam, from Shinar, from Hamath, and from the coastlands of the sea.

Is. 11:12 He will raise a signal for the nations and will assemble the banished of Israel, and gather the dispersed of Judah from the four corners of the earth. 13 The jealousy of Ephraim shall depart, and those who harass Judah shall be cut off; Ephraim shall not be jealous of Judah, and Judah shall not harass Ephraim. 14 But they shall swoop down on the shoulder of the Philistines in the west, and together they shall plunder the people of the east. They shall put out their hand against Edom and Moab, and the Ammonites shall obey them. 15 And the LORD will utterly destroy the tongue of the Sea of Egypt, and will wave his hand over the River with his scorching breath, and strike it into seven channels, and he will lead people across in sandals. 16 And there will be a highway from Assyria for the remnant that remains of his people, as there was for Israel when they came up from the land of Egypt.

There are snakes in that passage!

I don’t like snakes. 

Actually, I should probably be a little more specific before I go writing off all 3,400 species of snakes in a couple of words. And I actually love the big Eastern Garter Snakes that appear in our yard and the woods just beyond when the Spring sun warms up their cold, clammy bodies and they begin looking for rodents and toads to fill their tummies.

So let me give you a new version of this opening declaration: I don’t like poisonous snakes. For many years, I had recurring nightmares about them.

You see, I spent five months during my college years living out in the jungles of Costa Rica, way too up close and personal with one kind of poisonous sake. It was called the Terciopelo, a word that in Spanish means ‘velvet’. It’s a pit viper, sometimes known as Fer-de-lance. I knew an indigenous family in our little Assemblies of God church who had lost their young mother one dark night as they made their way home from church along the trail that let to their thatch-roofed house. She felt a little pinprick on her ankle, went home, lay down, and never woke up. She’d been bitten by a Terciopelo.

And I remember some older Bribri indigenous women on a different day, washing their families’ clothes in a deep part of the creek, savagely hacking away with their machetes at a Terciopelo that had dared to invade their washing area. I hope they got him…


Years later, when I moved back to Costa Rica with a young family as missionaries, another snake contributed to one of the most troubling memories of my life.

My boys, Christopher and Johnny, are only thirteen months apart. They’re big dudes now, both wearing the uniform of US Army majors in point-of-the-0spear military vocations, so it feels a little strange to be talking about them as vulnerable little boys. But that’s what they were back then.

We had driven down to the Pacific coast of Costa Rica on a little end-of-year vacation. I had Christopher in my arms out in the surf, which was kind of loud that day. I could see little Johnny, a toddler, walking back and forth on the beach. Then suddenly I could also see a snake on the beach. Johnny was oblivious to the snake, and no adults were paying attention. I watched in horror as Johnny and the snake approached each other. I don’t remember whether I was able to cry out, but nobody would have heard me over the surf anyway. At the last minute, a young man saw what was happening, grabbed Johnny by the hand, and led him to a safe distance. Then a crowd gathered. I suspect the poor snake didn’t live long after that. 

And now Pastor Scott assigns me a text with this verse at its core:

(8) The nursing child shall play over the hole of the cobra, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder’s den.

I can feel my snake-related PTSD kicking in, even as we speak.

And now that I’m complaining about things I don’t like, here’s another one: people who dream, even on Christian grounds, of paradise … people who try to call this broken, bleeding world of ours a paradise … people who look away from all that’s wrong because it’s scary out there. And yet this messianic text from the Old Testament book of Isaiah utilizes the language of paradise to describe the Savior we have come to know as Jesus.

Let’s try to figure out what’s going on here and what God would say to us this morning through his Word.

Now, in order to get a grip on this passage, we need to look back in two ways.

First, we have to realize that back in chapter 2, the book of Isaiah gives us its vision of visions. That’s the frame that today’s chapter 11 and a host of other chapters in Isaiah are coloring in. Today’s chapter is not the first look into the Lord’s purpose for his world. In the book of Isaiah, chapter 11 is not the first word in that conversation.

Chapter 2’s vision of visions is that first word. It sets the direction of the book of Isaiah by describing an eventual world that only the God of Israel could create. It’s short, just four very compact verses. I’d like to read Isaiah’s vision of visions for you, and then we’ll come back to our passage for today, Isaiah 11.

It shall come to pass in the latter days that the mountain of the house of the LORD shall be established as the highest of the mountains, and shall be lifted up above the hills; and all the nations shall flow to it, and many peoples shall come, and say: “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the LORD, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth the teaching (law), and the word of the LORD from Jerusalem.

 He shall judge between the nations, and shall decide disputes for many peoples; and they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore (Isaiah 2:2-4 ESV)

I mentioned that we need to look back in two ways. Absorbing chapter two’s vision of visions is the first one.

 Here’s the second one: we have to realize that a conversation about a mysterious survivor that will crawl out of the ashes of God’s exiled people is also a conversation that started some time ago in this book. Scripture loves to talk about t his re-born remnant by using the image of a tree that’s been felled and is presumed dead. And then a tiny shoot emerges from it that will be for the blessing of the whole world. If we were reading consecutively through Isaiah, we’d realize this. We would have already gathered those threads together. But we don’t have that privilege, so part of my job this morning is to bring us up to speed so we can be good hearers of this passage, Isaiah 11.

Now, fast forward to Isaiah 11 and here comes that image again: 

There shall come forth a shoot from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit. (Isaiah 11:1 ESV)

Isaiah is looking forward to something like a Holocaust for Israel, a national tragedy so horrifying that it buy all right should have exterminated this chosen people. Yet out of the national mutilation that we call the Babylonian exile, the prophet says, some little bud of life will emerge and will grow up to become a blessing to all nations … to all flesh … to many peoples.

Now hang in with me here, because this is not easy stuff: Over centuries, the writers of Christian Scripture came to the conclusion that in addition to speaking of a re-born nation, this image of a shoot out of a dead tree also captured the essence of Jesus our Messiah, our anointed Savior.

Let’s look at a few of our passage’s most compelling claims about him.

First … He is absolutely saturated with the Lord’s Spirit:

(2) And the Spirit of the LORD shall rest upon him, the Spirit of wisdom and understanding, the Spirit of counsel and might, the Spirit of knowledge and the fear of the LORD.

This resting of the Spirit of the Lord upon his anointed savior is like the resting of a heavy snowfall upon the landscape. Or like a layer of thick fog that comes to rest on the Connecticut River. You look down on it as you driver over a bridge or descend into Bradley Airport and you realize how lush and full the covering is. Close readers of this passage over the centuries have not missed the fact that the Spirit of the Lord is mentioned here seven times … seven being the perfect number. Jesus, we are invited to understand, is perfectly saturated with God’s Spirit.

We should also understand that the presence of the Lord’s Spirit is not primarily ornamental or aesthetic. Rather, it equips him, it empowers him to see reality and respond to reality and then shape reality with tremendous perception. 

Do you see it there in verses 3-5?

And his delight shall be in the fear of the LORD. He shall not judge by what his eyes see, or decide disputes by what his ears hear, 4but with righteousness he shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth; and he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. 5Righteousness shall be the belt of his waist, and faithfulness the belt of his loins.

This anointed agent of God’s redemption gets reality. He sees through charades and distractions. He is committed to justice even when human beings become very adept at disguising injustice as justice … and lies as truth … and self-interest as just the way things are. And he’s clearly on the side of and involved in the fate of the most vulnerable. He gets involved with the poor and the meek (v. 4). He is a lethal enemy of the wicked.

So not exactly Jesus meek and mild here, though certainly a kind of meekness will be apparent in the incarnate Jesus of Nazareth. This is our Christmas season’s baby Jesus, that much is true, but Jesus ‘all growed up’—as my Father would have said—and serving as his Father’s own anointed Son in this world, forging a world that aligns with God’s own purpose rather than lurching bloodily off in its own directions.

Now let’s get to that paradise scene­—snakes and all—that is the result of this Spirit-anointed person’s work … this survivor of devastation … this shoot out of a dead, fallen tree:

 6 The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them. 7 The cow and the bear shall graze; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the cobra, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder’s den. 9 They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.

Now in a moment I’m going to ask you to take on faith something that’s not evident in this paradise package itself. However, it would become very clear if we had the time for me to take you back into that vision of visions of chapter 2. If in some other space and time we had that luxury, I’d be able to show you the subtle connections between chapter 2 and chapter 11. One after the other, they pile up on each other to make it all but indisputable that … here comes the thing I want to tell you: this is not about animals!!!

These are nations. This is metaphor. It’s a kind of little parable. It’s not really about wolves and lambs, it’s about Russia and Ukraine. It’s not really about leopards and goats, it’s about the US and Venezuela. It’s not really about a nursing child and a cobra, it’s Palestine and Israel. It’s not really about cows and bears, it’s about Democrats and Republicans. It’s not really about calves and lions, it’s about progressives and conservatives.

Something about this anointed figure’s engagement with the nations will create a kind of just peace that is scarcely imaginable on this 21st of December, 2025, in this familiar place of ours, Wethersfield, Connecticut.

But Scripture is not trafficking in illusions or false paradises or spiritual abstractions that have nothing to do with the real world. This is not as mystical and other-worldly as you might imagine. Rather, it is fleshing out the Lord’s purpose for his messiah and his world. The messiah whose birth we celebrate on Thursday of this week, the world in which you and I love our brief but critically important lives.

This passage culminates in what may for me be the most meaningful declaration in all of Scripture:

They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea. (Isaiah 11:9 ESV)

Here, in verse 9, Isaiah drops his guard. He steps outside of his parable of the animal paradise and speaks about people openly. More accurately, he speaks about nations. It tells us that in some undated future, these nations will no longer oppose the God of Israel, hurting and destroying on his holy mountain. This is a glance back to the vision of visions in Isaiah 2, where they become eager students of his teaching upon that holy mountain.

It also says this: 

For the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

Now again, I have to ask you to take something I’m going to say on faith: as a forty-year student of the Hebrew Bible—our Old Testament—I can tell you what this does not mean and suggest to you what it does mean.

It doesn’t mean that some abstract spiritual reality—the knowledge of God—will cover this earth as the waters cover the sea. The Hebrew Bible doesn’t talk like that … in mystical attractions. Those are not its native tongue. It means that people who know the Lord … nations who know the Lord … will cover the earth as the waters cover the sea.

But sometimes we don’t see that so much…

If you can back away from the current moment and take in the wide scope of human history since Pentecost, you can glimpse quite a bit of it. I recommend you read Tom Holland’s book Dominion. Holland, who does not claim Christian faith, is an historian who documents the way Christianity that during twenty centuries has nourished and sustained the values that most of us in the Western world would affirm as just and beautiful. Values that generate and sustain things like … democracy … hospitals … orphanges … respect for women and children … the crazy notion that every human being is a reflection, an image of Creator God and should be treated as such.

These ideas, these values, these practices do not occur in nature. They are not features of the jungle. No, they reside downstream from centuries of Christianity’s leavening and even redeeming influence upon cultures.

Because of Karen’s and my particular calling to emerging Christian leaders in the Global South, we regularly find ourselves as observes of the promise in today’s passage. May I tell you about Mohammed, Lifa, and Miryam?

These are not their real names because this message is being recorded. In October they were three of my students at a seminary in Beirut, Lebanon, where I teach a class every year. Mohammed is Moroccan, a Muslim-background follower of Jesus. Lifa, also a Muslim-background follower of Jesus, is a Kurdish woman from Syria who’s been forcibly displaced with her family to Lebanon, courtesy of the Sunni extremists who we short-hand as ISIS. Miryam is an Armenian Christian believer, also from Syria. All of them have suffered.

Mohammed looks so much like the Celtics’ injured Jason Tatum that, when I put a picture of JT up on the screen in October, we all laughed for two minutes. At a certain poignant moment in our Isaiah class, I asked my students—again, these are people who have suffered at the hands of others—if they hate, Mohammed said ‘I used to’. Jesus has drained the hate from his heart, and he is an evangelist among both his Muslim neighbors and online conversation partners.

Lifa is a thirty-something mother and wife, shy and unassuming. She describes without any sense of pride the group of 80 Muslim women whom she shepherds in Beirut, many of them already followers of Jesus, some of them on their way to embracing Jesus, all of them from Muslim backgrounds as she is.

To understand Miryam, it would help if you know something of the Armenian Genocide, one of the twentieth century’s most awful experiences of ethnic cleansing. Miryam spoke with me about how her church fed and housed Turkish-speaking refugees when the ISIS-inspired violence in her region became particularly brutal. I asked her how that happened. She said quietly, ‘Well, we were both suffering the same way. We used to hate the Turks because of what they did to our people, but not anymore. Jesus changed us.’

The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the young goat, and the calf and the lion and the fattened calf together; and a little child shall lead them. 7 The cow and the bear shall graze; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the cobra, and the weaned child shall put his hand on the adder’s den. 9 They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.

But we don’t live in Syria or Morocco or Lebanon …. or Colombia or Venezuela. What are we to do with Isaiah 11?

I have just a few suggestions to leave with you today in the face of that question. The gospel of course is all of grace. But it’s not cheap grace, not an inert, passive grace. It’s a grace that empowers and shapes our lives. It points us in a certain direction and then promises the power of God so that we can follow through. In that spirit, I’ll allow myself three ‘musts’.

  1. We must not lose hope based on any momentary darkness.
    1. Jewish theology is correct when it says that despair is the sin of all sins. It demolishes our perspective. It captivates our hope. It quenches our love.
  2. We must believe that the Lord has not relented on his purpose to see all nations redeemed.
    1. If it’s tempting to think so from our perspective, then we need somehow to broaden our perspective. We need to look around at believers who are different than us or from other parts of the world. We need to sit at their feet and learn from them. They have often suffered so much and maintained their confidence in the triumph of God’s redeeming love.
  3. We must become gritty, tenacious, resilient peacemakers.
    1. We must identify and call out hatred in our own hearts and, sometimes, in the hearts of our brothers and sisters. When it occurs, we must name it. The Proverbs assure us that the rebuke of a friend is like a kiss on the lips.
    1. Ours are difficult times. But they are not uniquely difficult, they are just difficult. We flatter ourselves if we think our circumstances are that special. It has not become impossible to be a peacemaking follower of our Messiah. It’s just hard.
    1. Our task, as the apostle Paul puts it, is to be God’s own co-workers in a day that brings with it a certain darkness. We can do this. And it’s worth doing it. Because one day … in God’s own way … the earth will be full of those who know the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.

May it be so. And merry Christmas.

Read Full Post »

La narrativa bíblica supone un discernimiento por parte del lector que se desarrolla a lo largo de un amplio horizonte.

Los estudiosos de la Biblia consideran que el libro de los Jueces toma material narrativo antiguo y lo entreteje en un todo más o menos coherente que forma parte de la primera historia épica de Israel. Según algunos puntos de vista, esta epopeya abarca desde los tiempos primitivos hasta la llegada del monarca de Israel o, en términos literarios, desde el Génesis hasta los Jueces. Dado que este horizonte abarca seis libros, el término «hexateuco» se ha popularizado para describir el conjunto.

El resultado es algo decididamente más fascinante que una serie de historias recordadas al azar. Aunque las partes individuales a menudo alcanzan el nivel de relatos apasionantes en sí mismas, el lector inteligente realiza su tarea con los ojos bien abiertos. Esto es aún más necesario dada la renuencia desarrollada por la Biblia hebrea a involucrarse en meros relatos morales. En la mayoría de los casos, se espera que el lector llegue a sus propias conclusiones sobre un episodio concreto y sus protagonistas, una valoración que necesariamente deriva su equilibrio moral de la historia más amplia y de las suposiciones que la sustentan. 

Entra en escena Gedeón, un personaje que, a primera vista, posee muchas de las cualidades más deseables de un líder ideal. Rescata, saquea, hace justicia poética a la mezquina inhospitalidad de algunos que, a su debido tiempo, caerían bajo su dominio. Pronuncia piadosas palabras de abnegación.

Y ahí está el problema.

El lector inocente podría exaltar a Gedeón y a su antiguo hijo Abimelec, cuyo nombre —con profunda sugerencia— significa «mi padre es el rey», un ascenso que su padre ha rechazado rotundamente con palabras elocuentes.

El problema, que el lector inteligente seguramente reconocerá en un libro tan perturbado por las posibilidades y la promesa de que Israel consiga un rey adecuado, es que Gedeón actúa como tal y nombra a su hijo como lo hacen los reyes.

Acepta oro, multiplica sus esposas, se viste de púrpura. Insinúa, torpemente, el privilegio supremo de los reyes: la dinastía.

Resulta que Gedeón no es un héroe, aunque generaciones lo hayan considerado así. El lector perspicaz lo sabe bien. Gedeón acumuló méritos por su liderazgo en tiempos de crisis y luego los cobró.

Tomó.

Mucho tiempo después, una mujer abordó a Jesús mientras este se dirigía con urgencia a la casa de un hombre respetado cuyo hijo estaba muriendo bastante joven, bastante rápido y, como solo la muerte puede amenazar, bastante definitivamente.

Jesús sintió que el poder curativo fluía de él y detuvo todo movimiento excepto el suyo propio, que dirigió hacia la mujer anónima que había sangrado y había sido sangrada durante bastante tiempo. En los primeros momentos en que supo que la curación había llegado, sin haber tenido tiempo de aclarar los detalles, tembló, sin duda esperando que lo que finalmente había sucedido se deshiciera ahora con la vergüenza del repudio público añadida a su silenciosa impureza.

«Hija», le dice Jesús mientras los impacientes que lo rodean ponen los ojos en blanco ante su falta de concentración, «tu fe te ha sanado. Vete en paz».

Él dio.

Read Full Post »

Un sermón predicado en el servicio religioso semanal del Seminario Bíblico de Colombia en conformidad con el tema semestral ‘Viviendo la fidelidad de Dios’.

3 abril 2025

Moisés apacentaba el rebaño de Jetro su suegro, sacerdote de Madián; condujo el rebaño hacia el lado occidental del desierto y llegó a Horeb, el monte de Dios. Y el ángel del SEÑOR se le apareció en una llama de fuego, en medio de una zarza. Al fijarse Moisés, vio que la zarza ardía en fuego, pero la zarza no se consumía. Entonces Moisés dijo: “Me acercaré ahora para ver esta maravilla (gran visión), por qué la zarza no se quema.”

Cuando el SEÑOR vio que Moisés se acercaba para mirar, Dios lo llamó de en medio de la zarza, y dijo: “¡Moisés, Moisés!” Y él respondió: “Aquí estoy.” Entonces Dios le dijo: “No te acerques aquí. Quítate las sandalias de los pies, porque el lugar donde estás parado es tierra santa.” Y añadió: “Yo soy el Dios de tu padre, el Dios de Abraham, el Dios de Isaac y el Dios de Jacob.” Entonces Moisés se cubrió el rostro, porque tenía temor de mirar a Dios.

Y el SEÑOR dijo: “Ciertamente he visto la aflicción de Mi pueblo que está en Egipto, y he escuchado su clamor a causa de sus capataces, pues estoy consciente de sus sufrimientos. “Así que he descendido para librarlos de mano de los Egipcios, y para sacarlos de aquella tierra a una tierra buena y espaciosa, a una tierra que mana leche y miel, al lugar de los Cananeos, de los Hititas, de los Amorreos, de los Ferezeos, de los Heveos y de los Jebuseos. “Y ahora, el clamor de los Israelitas ha llegado hasta Mí, y además he visto la opresión con que los Egipcios los oprimen. “Ahora pues, ven y te enviaré a Faraón, para que saques a Mi pueblo, a los Israelitas, de Egipto.”

Pero Moisés dijo a Dios: “¿Quién soy yo para ir a Faraón, y sacar a los Israelitas de Egipto?” “Ciertamente Yo estaré contigo,” (כי אהיה עמך) le respondió el SEÑOR, “y la señal para ti de que soy Yo el que te ha enviado será ésta: cuando hayas sacado al pueblo de Egipto ustedes adorarán (servirán) a Dios en este monte.”

Entonces Moisés dijo a Dios: “Si voy a los Israelitas, y les digo: ‘El Dios de sus padres me ha enviado a ustedes,’ tal vez me digan: ‘¿Cuál es Su nombre?’ ¿qué les responderé?” Y dijo Dios a Moisés: “YO SOY EL QUE SOY,” (אהיה אשׁר אהיה) y añadió: “Así dirás a los Israelitas: ‘YO SOY (אהיה) me ha enviado a ustedes.’” Dijo además Dios a Moisés: “Así dirás a los Israelitas: ‘El SEÑOR (יהוה), el Dios de sus padres, el Dios de Abraham, el Dios de Isaac y el Dios de Jacob, me ha enviado a ustedes.’ Este es Mi nombre para siempre, y con él se hará memoria de Mí de generación en generación.

(Éxodo 3.1-15 NBLH)

Me gustan los nombres. No … en realidad, me encantan los nombres.

En los últimos años, en mi lectura diaria de las Escrituras, he renunciado la velocidad normal de la lectura, cambiándola por otra más lenta, para mejor saborear los nombres que aparecen en las genealogías:

Me tomo unos segundos para imaginar la vida de estos abuelos nuestros, preguntándome con qué fin el Señor nos invita a recordarlos.

El museo del pueblo en Jerusalen—Yad Vashem—deriva su nombre de la hermosa promesa de Isaías 56.4-5:

A los eunucos que guardan Mis días de reposo, Escogen lo que Me agrada Y se mantienen firmes en Mi pacto,

Les daré en Mi casa y en Mis muros un lugar, Y un nombre mejor que el de hijos e hijas. Les daré nombre eterno que nunca será borrado.

(Isaías 56.4-5 NBLH)

Hace años tuve la experiencia de caminar por el ‘laberinto de los nombres’ en Yad VaShem, un pasillo de poca luz donde uno escucha desde el sistema de sonido la lectura incesante y casi susurrada de los nombres de los víctimas de los Nazi en Europa. Uno, siendo gentil, se une por unos treinta minutos al pueblo judío en su disciplina de mantener presentes—si no vivos—las hijas e hijos de Israel que perecieron en los fuegos exterminadores de los Nazis, haciendo lo que se puede: nunca dejar de recordar sus nombres.

En un contexto más feliz, anhelo el momento la semana antes del arranque de cada semestre en nuestra comunidad cuando a los profes Ivonne nos envía la lista de los estudiantes que pronto se convertirán en rebaño nuestro. Tomo un momento para contemplar las bellas sílabas colombianas de ‘mis’—si me permiten—ovejas, de mi rebaño:

Johan Danilo Álvarez Sánchez

Isabela García Patiño

Jhon Janner Carballo Denis

Daniela Urango Giraldo…

Bellos nombres, cuyos dueños dentro de días o semanas serán personas que admiro y amo.

En una ocasión, compartí con varios de ustedes el gozo que me generó un momento hace muchos años en Costa Rica. Caí en cuenta que en latitudes latinoamericanas me había llegado el lujo de recuperar el apellido de mis abuelos maternos: Potter = Alfarero. Privilegio que se me había robado por la extraña costumbre anglosajona de bendecirnos con un solo apellido en lugar de dos. Abuelo y abuelita Potter habían sido héroes de mi juventud y ahora orgullosamente ostento su apellido en mi firma electrónica y en cualquier oportunidad que se me presente. 

Grandma and Grandpa Potter … David Allen Baer Potter

Admiro … aprecio … es más, en realidad amo los nombres.

Los nombres a lo largo de los años acumulan significado … connotación … riqueza … insinuación … nobleza. Con tiempo, se vuelven casi una manifestación de los seres humanos que los nombres mismos identifican.

El nombre de nuestro Señor es diferente. En uno de los pasajes más formidables de nuestra Biblia, el Dios de los padres anuncia … declara su nombre … y le informa a Moisés que será el nombre recordatorio … el instrumento hablado … el medio por el cual Israel se recordará de la naturaleza de su deidad para las generaciones y los siglos que vienen.

Su nombre es, conforme a nuestra manera de acercarnos como hijos adoptivos de Israel, Yahvé. No es, como los nuestros, un nombre que paulatinamente adquiere su significado dependiendo de cómo nosotros vivamos bajo su rotulación de nuestras vidas. Al contrario, el nombre Yahvé es un vocablo que predice el comportamiento … la conducta … del Dios de Israel. Anuncia su naturaleza desde antes para instruirnos como es Él.

Esta declaración de mi nombre … como el texto nos lo presenta … viene a partir de una intensa colaboración entre el nombre, por un lado, y la extraña llama que arde en un arbusto cualquier … una intensa colaboración entre lo visto y lo oído … una manifestación multifacética de una realidad que sobrepasa la capacidad humana de asimilarla. Una realidad inefable.

La llamada ‘revelación del nombre divino’ en Éxodo 3 es simultáneamente una revelación y una ocultación. La manifestación de un Dios bueno y noble que añora conocer y ser conocido … pero que jamás se permite controlar. Jamás se permite conocer exhaustivamente.

El texto que pide nuestra atención ha sido víctima, a mi criterio, de tres lecturas deficientes … para no decir equivocadas.

La primera deficiencia que nos toca corregir gira en torno al rol que juega la zarza ardiente. En realidad, es cualquier zarza, como el suelo que Moisés pisa es cualquier tierra. El detalle que más nos concierne es la llama que arde en la zarza, pero que no la consume.

2Y el ángel del SEÑOR se le apareció en una llama de fuego, en medio de una zarza. Al fijarse Moisés, vio que la zarza ardía en fuego, pero la zarza no se consumía. 3 Entonces Moisés dijo: “Me acercaré ahora para ver esta maravilla (gran visión), por qué la zarza no se quema.”

Una lectura superficial concluye—en realidad asume—que la extraña visión existe solo para llamarle la atención a Moisés para que deje de dedicarse a las ovejas y tome un atajo importante para llegar a escuchar lo que el Señor le quiere decir. Una vez Moisés se acerque y el Señor le hable, la llama pierde su relevancia. Es cómo un letrero de neón que dice ‘¡Moisés, Moisés, por acá…!’ Y nada más.

Discrepo vehementemente

El mensaje sobre la naturaleza de Yahvé que la voz del ‘Ángel de Yahvé’ declara es inextricablemente integrada a la llama que arde y no consume. Son dos manifestaciones—una visible y la otra audible—de una misma realidad.

La llama comunica la realidad de un Dios que se puede localizar, pero no se puede controlar. Es una realidad dinámica, no estática. Es un Dios cuya presencia se puede afirmar, pero no se puede precisar, mucho menos controlar.

En nuestra casa en los Estados Unidos, Karen y yo tenemos una chimenea. Además, tenemos preparada más leña que podríamos usar si alcanzaramos a cumplir 150 años. Me encanta salir al bosque con mi motosierra y cortar leña sin preocuparme por las extravagantes dimensiones de los montones de leña que mi obsesión genera. Durante los inviernos salvajes de Nueva Inglaterra, nos encanta encender un fuego en la chimenea, sentarnos con la perrita sobre su alfombra, y pasar las horas contemplando la danza de la llama.

Sería absurdo reportar que no sabemos si hay un fuego o no hay un fuego en la chimenea. ¡Obvio que hace treinta minutos no había fuego! ¡Indiscutible que ahora sí hay!

Pero si me preguntas, segundo por segundo, si la llama está allí o si está allí, te pediré con máxima cortesía que no nos pierdas el escaso tiempo que tengo con Karen para descansar delante de la chimenea. La llama danza, la llama es imprevisible, la llama sorprende, la llama hace lo que quiera, la llama aparece donde le dé ganas y se ausenta donde no quiera. Uno no controla la llama. La llama tiene sus propios medios y no los revela.

Pero hay una diferencia entre la llama en nuestra que nos deleita en la chimenea y la que arde en este arbusto del desierto. La nuestra consume

Esta llama no consume. Es decir, el Dios de los padres, a pesar de las incipientes enseñanzas sobre su soberanía que la llama ejemplifica, no existe para destruir. Al contrario, existe para crear. Para generar abundante existencia que le da eco a la realidad primordial de su existencia. Para redimir. Para dar vida.

=====================

Mencioné que una lectura superficial de este formidable texto genera tres deficiencias. 

La segunda deficiencia tiene que ver con una ceguera frente al evangelio … frente a las buenas nuevas … que saturan el pasaje:

Ex. 3:13   Entonces Moisés dijo a Dios: “Si voy a los Israelitas, y les digo: ‘El Dios de sus padres me ha enviado a ustedes,’ tal vez me digan: ‘¿Cuál es Su nombre?’ ¿qué les responderé?” 14 Y dijo Dios a Moisés: “YO SOY EL QUE SOY,” y añadió: “Así dirás a los Israelitas: ‘YO SOY me ha enviado a ustedes.’”

A partir de este momento, voy a hacer algo que espero que nunca hagamos en las iglesias que servimos, una aflicción con que espero que nunca carguen a sus ovejas en un contexto eclesial. Lo hago porque compartimos un contexto universitario y académico, donde tenemos el lujo de sumergirnos en semejantes temas. Voy a hablar del Hebreo y del Griego.

¿Qué significa ‘YO SOY EL QUE SOY’?  … אהיה אשר אהיה

Bueno, a partir de la Septuaginta, se supone que tiene que ver con la existencia del Dios de los padres: Ἐγώ εἰμι ὁ ὤν· = ‘Yo soy el que existe’.

Lo que el ángel de Dios revela desde la zarza, desde la perspectiva de esta lectura, es la estupenda novedad de que Dios existe…

Pero no me imagino como la existencia de Dios funciona como buenas nuevas para los esclavos hebreos gimiendo bajo el yugo de su opresor. Es más, en una cultura altamente religiosa, ¿quién hubiera dudado de la existencia de su Dios … o de los dioses?

Tristemente, lo que la Septuaginta alcanza es poner pan sobre la mesa de generaciones de filósofos que se dan a la tarea de debatir que significa ‘Yo soy quien soy’ … o ‘Yo soy el que existe.’

¡Nada o poco que ver con el sufrimiento de los esclavos hebreos que protagonizan el contexto del pasaje! ¡Y muy poco que ver con la expresión hebrea אהיה אשׁר אהיה!

Ahora, cuando estamos ante un verbo medio ambiguo como el verbo hebreo היה, el español nos obliga a tomar una decisión. O vamos con ser o vamos con estar. Muchos idiomas no insisten que el lector tome esta decisión. El español sí, y yo digo por lo tanto, ¡Dios bendiga el español!

Las exigencies de nuestro idioma compartido—el español—nos respaldan mientras practicamos la exegesis que debíamos haber efectuado en primera instancia. El hebreo también corre al rescate pues היה difícilmente hubiera aparecido en esta forma para hablar de existencia. Su implicación más natural hubiera sido presencia.

El nombre divino tiene poco o nada que ver con la existencia del Dios de los Padres, cosa que hasta la época moderna no habría provocado duda. El dilema de los esclavos hebreos es que el Dios de sus padres no aparece. Por las apariencias, por sus moretones, por su cansancio, y por los asesinatos que les ha tocado sufrir, el problema es que aquel Dios se ausentó hace tiempo y ya no hace nada.

El hecho de que el ángel de Dios revela que su nombre es ‘El que está’ o, con un poco más de precisión ‘El que está poderosamente presente para rescatar’… ¡Esas sí son buenas nuevas!

Y para la satisfacción de un exégeta, son buenas noticias que corresponden precisamente con el contexto histórico y literario, por un lado, y con el idioma hebreo, por otro.

‘¿Cómo se llama?’, imagina Moisés que sus hermanos desde su agonía nacional van a preguntarle apenas él les declare que ‘el Dios de los padres me envió?’

‘Diles esto, Moisés’, viene instruyendo la voz que sale de la llama danzante en la zarza que no se consume…

No les digas que yo existo. Diles esto ‘Yo soy el que hace presencia con los suyos. ¡Eso es mi nombre! Presencia para rescatar. Para soltar. Para liberar. Para redimir.

Esta revelación sí consiste en buenas nuevas. Para los eslavos hebreos. Pero también para este peregrino gringo perdido en Colombia, pues el ángel del Señor dice que este es mi nombre para siempre. ¡Yo necesito como nadie un Dios que haga presencia y me salve de mí mismo, que nunca me abandone hasta haberme conducido a mi victoria final! Y quizás uno que otro de ustedes, perdido o ahogándose en su miseria … su pecado … su ansiedad … su sufrimiento … su desesperación … su necesidad … necesito lo mismo.

===========================

Nos queda una lectura deficiente más para remediar.

Una vez más, nos tocará tener paciencia con un idioma que solo una minoría de nosotros hemos estudiado. Así que les pido esa paciencia, mientras intento no complicarles la vida más de lo necesario.

Ex. 3:13   Entonces Moisés dijo a Dios: “Si voy a los Israelitas, y les digo: ‘El Dios de sus padres me ha enviado a ustedes,’ tal vez me digan: ‘¿Cuál es Su nombre?’ ¿qué les responderé?” 14 Y dijo Dios a Moisés: “YO SOY EL QUE SOY,” y añadió: “Así dirás a los Israelitas: ‘YO SOY me ha enviado a ustedes.’” 15 Dijo además Dios a Moisés: “Así dirás a los Israelitas: ‘El SEÑOR, el Dios de sus padres, el Dios de Abraham, el Dios de Isaac y el Dios de Jacob, me ha enviado a ustedes.’ Este es Mi nombre para siempre, y con él se hará memoria de Mí de generación en generación.

אהיה אשר אהיה

Un imperfecto/yiqtol, primera persona común singular: estaréharé presenciaapareceré

Es un verbo imperfectivo: Uno se encuentra dentro de un proceso en desarrollo, observando su concretización, no sabiendo de antemano su desenlace final.

Un pronombre relativo declinable: quede la manera quetal y como

Otra vez, un imperfecto/yiqtol, 1cs, idéntico al primero.

Y luego en v. 15 la condensación de todo esto en el mismo verbo היה pero ahora en tercera persona masculino singular: él estará … él hará presencia.

Permítanme el lujo de un español poco natural:

Yo estaré en la manera que yo estaré…

O acudiendo a la propuesta de un estudiante mío: Yo estaré en la manera que a mi se me dé la gana…

Todo está impregnado de contingencia, de incertidumbre desde la perspectiva de quien necesita a este Dios y de suprema soberanía de parte de Él Mismo.

Yo haré presencia cuando y como yo haga presencia (y en ninguna otra) … Yo me haré poderosamente presente de manera que ustedes jamás controlarán. Pueden contar con mi presencia … pero siempre … a mi manera.

Y luego, nutrido por toda esta explicación audible desde la Zarza, ‘Diles que mi nombre es EL QUE ESTA Y ESTARA…’

Si fuera posible reducir esto a un griego natural … o un español natural … estaríamos más cómodos con el lenguaje, pero no estaríamos hablando de la misma llama danzante que hace presencia para redimir a su manera, no a la nuestra.

El resto del Antiguo Testamento a ratos demuestra su fascinación con esta revelación que simultáneamente es ocultación.

Les refiero a un solo ejemplo, sin salir de las fronteras del libro de Éxodo, otro pasaje genuinamente memorable: (33.18-20)

18 Entonces Moisés dijo: “Te ruego que me muestres Tu gloria.” 19 Y Yahvé respondió: “Yo haré pasar toda Mi bondad delante de ti, y proclamaré el nombre de Yahvé delante de ti. Tendré misericordia del que tendré misericordia, y tendré compasión de quien tendré compasión.” 20 Y añadió: “No puedes ver Mi rostro; porque nadie Me puede ver, y vivir.”


La misma sintaxis, el mismo ritmo hablado, las mismas estructuras gramaticales. Es una exégesis del nombre divino dentro de la misma Biblia.

Pero si nos permitimos un salto al Nuevo Testamento, sería interesante aterrizar en el tercer capítulo del Evangelio de Juan. Pues, allí Jesús da su acostumbrada y muy coherente relectura de su Escritura Hebrea, ajustando las metáforas para actualizar una misma realidad.

3.1 Había un hombre de los Fariseos, llamado Nicodemo, prominente (principal) entre los Judíos. 2 Este vino a Jesús de noche y Le dijo: “Rabí, sabemos que has venido de Dios como maestro, porque nadie puede hacer las señales (los milagros) que Tú haces si Dios no está con él.”

3.3   Jesús le contestó: “En verdad te digo que el que no nace de nuevo no puede ver el reino de Dios.”

3.4   Nicodemo Le dijo: “¿Cómo puede un hombre nacer siendo ya viejo? ¿Acaso puede entrar por segunda vez en el vientre de su madre y nacer?”

3.5   Jesús respondió: “En verdad te digo que el que no nace de agua y del Espíritu no puede entrar en el reino de Dios. 6 “Lo que es nacido de la carne, carne es, y lo que es nacido del Espíritu, espíritu es. 7 “No te asombres de que te haya dicho: ‘Tienen que nacer de nuevo.’ 8 “El viento sopla por donde quiere, y oyes su sonido, pero no sabes de dónde viene ni adónde va; así es todo aquél que es nacido del Espíritu.”

Soberana y redentora presencia de Dios.

Misterio divino. Llama danzante o viento que sopla invisiblemente. Dios redentor y poderosamente presente, pero inescrutablemente incontrolable. Revelación y ocultación.

Creando futuro donde solo olía a muerte.

Yahvé, Dios de los padres. Jesús, hijo encarnado. Viento divino dinámico, nunca estático. 

Como seminaristas, ¿cómo vamos a vivir fielmente en la presencia de esta llama danzante, este Yahvé? ¿Esta llama divina que es viento divino?

Primero, lo que no vamos a hacer: Decidir que nuestro trabajo académico es un mero juego intelectual, y lo que realmente importa es una espiritualidad sentimentalizada y alejada de nuestra vocación. Dios guarde que volvamos a semejante superficialidad, aunque haya sido predicado desde este púlpito.

  1. No vamos a dejar de gemir, anticipando que el Dios que se hace presente a su manera y en su momento responderá.
  2. Vamos a aceptar la realidad de que Yahvé simultáneamente se revela y se oculta. Nunca vamos a anticipar que nuestro conocimiento teológico lo vaya a ‘atrapar’ de manera exhaustiva. Vamos a celebrar la realidad de que su soberanía garantiza sorpresas en nuestras pequeñas y frágiles vidas.
  3. Vamos a deleitarnos en los misterios movimientos de la llama … del viento. Vamos a aprender que al centro de una espiritualidad bíblica … de una fidelidad biblica… yace una pregunta digna de ser repetida diariamente y sin cesar: ¿Y ahora … qué estará haciendo este Dios soberano, incontrolable, presente?

Bendito sea Adonai, el que hace presencia. Llama divina, viento divino. Bondad, misericordia y compasión.

Read Full Post »

Cuando la conversación se complica, acordamos inclinarnos juntos ante el ídolo llamado Equilibrio.

«Bueno, en realidad es una cuestión de equilibrio», entonamos, sospechando sólo a medias que estamos confesando una mentira.

Una verdad a medias, una mentira a medias, un poco más sofisticada, seduce así: «Estas cosas siempre deben mantenerse en tensión».

Hablamos despreocupadamente del amor y de la verdad como si fueran frutos del mismo tamaño puestos a nuestro cuidado frigorífico. Hablamos con toda la superficial persuasión de una obviedad sobre la «Gracia» y la «Ley» y su necesario equilibrio.

Así, la buena intención huele a distorsión, una revelación divina de la fabricación humana.

De hecho, el amor y la verdad no están en la experiencia humana para ser cuidadosamente equilibrados como un invento infantil de Lego. La Gracia y la Ley no son iguales, sino entidades gemelas cuyo equilibrio compartido debe ser cuidadosamente cuidado por los custodios humanos de la realidad.

La experiencia humana ante nuestro Creador y en la compañía de nuestro vecino no pretende ser un acto de equilibrio. El universo está bendecido por un temible desequilibrio. Si no fuera así, estaríamos muy lejos de él.

El desequilibrio extravagante es la postura del Altísimo frente a nuestros caminos frágiles y errantes. Una y otra vez, el Dios de la Biblia se revela como un Redentor apasionado cuyo amor por sus criaturas es totalmente desequilibrado, absurdamente desproporcionado a cualquier causa observable. El Sabueso del Cielo persigue implacable y alegremente a la más escuálida de las liebres.

Entonces pasó el Señor por delante de él y proclamó: El Señor, el Señor, Dios compasivo y clemente, lento para la ira y abundante en misericordia y fidelidad.

Si la autodefinición merece un lugar de honor, este pasaje del libro del Éxodo debería considerarse lo primero. A lo largo de la Biblia se analiza, se exegeta, se proclama, se contrapone a las afirmaciones de mera justicia y se le echa en cara a YHVH cuando parece que se ha volcado más en la verdad y la justicia que en la misericordia y la gracia.

YHVH, se nos dice en momentos de esperanza y desesperación, es rápido para extender la misericordia, atrozmente lento para presionar las demandas de justicia.

El apóstol Pablo lo sabía muy bien.

El hombre de Tarso, que no era ajeno a los asuntos de justicia -podría concluirse, plausible aunque cínicamente, que construyó su carrera sobre la investigación y la proclamación de este tema-, es consciente de que la justicia en la que todo mártir basa su caso no es lo más importante.

Y ahora permanecen la fe, la esperanza y el amor, estos tres; pero el mayor de ellos es el amor. 

Sería un error abrir una brecha entre el amor y la justicia, la gracia y la ley, como si ambos fueran finalmente asuntos separados y no una exuberante abreviación del santo amor de YHVH. El drama de la Cruz sugiere que YHVH, el Padre de Jesucristo, tomó finalmente en sus manos la paradoja que resuelve las cosas que a nosotros nos parecen pura contradicción.

Pero meter esa cuña no sería tan terrible y dañino como seguir pronunciando el mantra absurdo e irreflexivo que dice que nuestra tarea es mantener estas cosas en equilibrio.

Esa, definitivamente, no es nuestra causa.

La nuestra causa primaria es, ante todo, el amor y la misericordia.

Todo lo demás, profunda e irremediablemente importante, viene después.

Read Full Post »

(Series: Jesus’ ‘signs’ in the gospel of John)

27 August 2023

Wethersfield Evangelical Free Church, Wethersfield, Connecticut, USA

We’re in a series of messages about the signs of Jesus as these come to us in the fourth gospel, the gospel of John. Today we look at the sixth of the seven signs of Jesus in that book. The account of this sign is found in John, chapter 9. It’s a long story, so let’s please do our best to focus on it as I read its forty-one verses.

They go like this…

John 9:1   As (Jesus) passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. 2 And his disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” 3Jesus answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him. 4 We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming, when no one can work. 5 As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” 6 Having said these things, he spit on the ground and made mud with the saliva. Then he anointed the man’s eyes with the mud 7and said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So he went and washed and came back seeing.

John 9:8   The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar were saying, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” 9 Some said, “It is he.” Others said, “No, but he is like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” 10 So they said to him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” 11 He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud and anointed my eyes and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’So I went and washed and received my sight.” 12 They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

John 9:13   They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. 14Now it was a Sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. 15 So the Pharisees again asked him how he had received his sight. And he said to them, “He put mud on my eyes, and I washed, and I see.” 16 Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner do such signs?” And there was a division among them. 17 So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him, since he has opened your eyes?” He said, “He is a prophet.”

John 9:18   The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight, until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight 19 and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” 20 His parents answered, “We know that this is our son and that he was born blind. 21 But how he now sees we do not know, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” 22 (His parents said these things because they feared the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that if anyone should confess Jesus to be Christ, he was to be put out of the synagogue.) 23 Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

John 9:24   So for the second time they called the man who had been blind and said to him, “Give glory to God. We know that this man is a sinner.” 25 He answered, “Whether he is a sinner I do not know. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” 26 They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” 27 He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” 28And they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. 29We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” 30 The man answered, “Why, this is an amazing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. 31 We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if anyone is a worshiper of God and does his will, God listens to him. 32 Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind. 33 If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” 34 They answered him, “You were born in utter sin, and would you teach us?” And they cast him out.

John 9:35   Jesus heard that they had cast him out, and having found him he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” 36 He answered, “And who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?” 37 Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and it is he who is speaking to you.” 38 He said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him. 39 Jesus said, “For judgment I came into this world, that those who do not see may see, and those who see may become blind.” 40 Some of the Pharisees near him heard these things, and said to him, “Are we also blind?” 41 Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would have no guilt; but now that you say, ‘We see,’ your guilt remains.

Let me just say right up front that I really like this blind dude. He is the most practical man in the world. I’ve chosen to title this message The man who only knew one thing, because I think he holds tenaciously to just one thing, even as events and argument swirl around him. Perhaps they would have devoured a less practical or a more complex person.

In fact, I find everything about this passage unexpected and deeply human, starting with its first words. 

Apparently, Jesus didn’t go looking for this guy. He was ‘passing by’, the story tells us, and he saw a man born blind. Maybe if his disciples hadn’t had their strange interest in how the guy ended up blind from birth, we wouldn’t have this passage at all. But they were interested. And so, we do.

In part, I think I like the guy because people keep asking him questions for which he doesn’t have the answer. That happens to me all the time, and I sometimes get irritated by it just like he does.

But we differ, this man I’m charged with explaining this morning and I, in one very important detail. I’ve never been blind, at least not in his way. Until Jesus passed by, he’dnever had his sight.

I do remember waking up one morning as a kid and calling out, ‘Mom, I can’t open my eyes.’ I had what we called Pink Eye back then. Mom came running up the steps, got my eyes cleaned up, and in a few minutes I was back to my seeing self. But for those fifteen minutes or so, I realized there is an entirely different way to live. One in which you can’t see. One in which you have no light.

But as I’ve already suggested, here’s the thing I find most gripping about this guy in this story in this gospel of John: He only knows one thing.

Everybody else in the story seems to be obsessed with acquiring certainty about all sorts of things:

First, there’s that odd question the disciples ask when they see the blind guy, seemingly after having been informed that his blindness is not the result of illness or accident, but rather goes all the way back to his birth. I mean, the question presumes that they know this:

Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?

(Verse 2)

It doesn’t strike me as the most empathetic or sophisticated first question when you encounter a blind beggar along the road, but there it is. These are Jesus’ disciples. They come at us in all their unvarnished glory and they’re a whole lot like us. Or maybe we’re a lot like them.

More understandable to me is the debate among the neighbors in verse 8: 

The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar were saying, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?”

There’s some urgency to their question, by my lights. They really want to know whether the unthinkable has just happened—a blind man now sees—or whether this is fraud or just some really awkward misunderstanding. 

Then in verses 13-17, the Pharisees interrogate the guy with an apparent obsession for establishing the exact circumstances of his healing and whether the man who did this thing is ‘from God’ or ‘not from God’. Oddly, they seem more obsessed with the opinion of the man who’d had his sight restored than anything else. I mean, they’re the theological experts. Yet they press him, ‘What do you say about him, since he has opened your eyes.’

But this isn’t the end of their process. After all the Pharisees smell a rat, since it isn’t every day that a blind person suddenly sees. They call in the man’s parents and they grill them. The pressure they apply is intense, in a context where they had already made clear that any affiliating with Jesus would lead to being banned from the community’s principal gathering place, its synagogue. Anyone who hung with Jesus would be dis-membered from the community; the text three times calls it being ‘put out’ and ‘cast out’. It was a big deal and a thing to be feared.

In the shadow of this threat, all the parents can manage is the disingenuous suggestion that the Pharisees go back to their son and ask him for more clarity. 

‘He is of age…’, they offer up in verse 23, ‘…ask him.

Then the wheels come off from verse 24 on. The Pharisees insist that ‘we know this man is a sinner’. The exchange there is full of threats from the Pharisees and snarkiness from the formerly blind guy under the heat of the Pharisees’ need to know more.

And after the gloves have come off, the Pharisees do in fact expel him, maybe just from their council but almost certainly from the synagogue itself. Now he’s a total outsider to the community. Getting his sight back wasn’t a completely good thing, it would seem. It had consequences at the hands of people whose religiosity had them preferring blind guys over people healed on the Sabbath.

Everybody wants to know exactly what has happened here. Everybody seems to have an opinion. A lot seems to tilt on getting everybody’s answers lined up with the Pharisees ‘official’ version of events, even though verse 16 has allowed us to glimpse a lack of unanimity even among them: 

And there was a division among them.

Jesus is strangely absent from much of this. If the blind guy is the most practical man in the world, if he comes across as holding to just the one thing that he knows, Jesus’ behavior is really puzzling.

First, look at how he heals the dude. We’re familiar with how Jesus is drawn to human misery and suffering, how he esteems and elevates the outlier. So when his attention is drawn to a blind beggar, it doesn’t surprise us that he’s gonna’ engage and do something. Maybe we’d expect him to take the guy’s head in his hands and say, ‘Open your eyes!’. There’d be glory in that, and the signs in this book are all about revealing Jesus’ glory. Itt would be a great entrée to what Jesus does actually say about himself in his first encounter with the blind man: verse 5‘I am the light of the world.’

But that of course is not how things happen.

Instead, the action slows way down. 

Having said these things, (Jesus) spit on the ground and made mud with the saliva. Then he anointed the man’s eyes with the mud 7 and said to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). So he went and washed and came back seeing.

Verses 6-7

And then, having done that thing that is described as something that has never been seen in all the world, Jesus goes somewhere else.

He doesn’t hang around for the arguments about the guy’s identity. He is not part of the theological debate about whether healing is to be permitted on the Sabbath. He is not present to defend himself when some of the Pharisees conclude that he just might be ‘from God’ and others declare that he most certainly is not. He does not counsel the man’s parents on how to survive their interrogation by the Jewish officials. He doesn’t console them after that trauma.

He is simply gone.

Maybe Jesus is off preaching the good news of his Father’s kingdom in another town. Maybe he’s liberating another village’s lunatic from a demon. Maybe he’s grinning as a man who has never walked rises up and dances in the street a village or two down the road. We don’t know.

But he’s not here.

And this man is left alone to deal with seeing neighbors and trees and sky and parents for the first time. Seeing light. He is seeing light. He is seeing his own body. But the ‘light of the world’ is not beside him, not holding his hand, not coaching him through his first days with eyes that function.

What does he do?

He holds to the one thing he knows. Let’s watch him…

First, we find him insisting that things are more simple than they are complicated. There’s that kerfuffle about whether he’s really the same guy who used to sit there and say, ‘A little help for a blind man…’ … ‘A little help for a blind man…’:

The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar were saying, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” 9 Some said, “It is he.” Others said, “No, but he is like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.”

Verses 8-9

He had to repeat it every time he was faced with the conspiracy version or the confusion version of events. Just two words in the Greek of John’s gospel, just four in the version I’ve read from this morning, just two again in what would be a perfectly good translation into our English: He kept saying, ‘It’s me.’

I have to wonder whether John intends us to see the humor in this, especially in the words that follow:

So they said to him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” 11 He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud and anointed my eyes and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ So I went and washed and received my sight.” 12 They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

Verses 10-12

The language suggests that people asked him this over and over again, probably incredulous as they did. And that each time, he simply told them what Jesus had said, what he did, and what happened next.

My favorite part of this passage, for whatever it’s worth, is in those four words near the beginning of verse 11:

The man called Jesus…

The man has no theory, he has no Jesus theology, he just knows what happened and he narrates it in all its direct simplicity.

Then ‘Where is he’, and his stupendously simple response: ‘I don’t know.’


I love this guy. He’s the most practical man in the world. He only knows one thing, and it doesn’t include Jesus’ whereabouts or a complex theory about what it means to be Israel’s Christ, the nation’s messiah, or whether it was OK that he got his sight back on his people’s venerated holy day.

It’s this simplicity that generates a certain interpretation that clings to this passage that goes like this: ‘This guy is … well … simple’. That’s why the Pharisees call in a grown man’s parents, that’s why he can say ‘I don’t know’ on repeated occasions. 

I think this framing of our man is probably mistaken. I mean, his eventual tense exchange with the Pharisees is very gutsy and pretty articulate. But you can see where it comes from. He doesn’t seem to know very much. Everybody else does, thinks they do, or wants to.

When the Pharisees focus their resentment on the man, he finally does offer up a response to Jesus’ identity, in verse 17:

So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him, since he has opened your eyes?” He said, “He is a prophet.”

Now to my eyes, this is an evasive answer. Prophets don’t restore sight to the blind. It’s the least remarkable thing the man can say to survive the very unbalanced power dynamics of the moment. Remember, these are the Pharisees. And he is an illiterate, blind beggar, who has never seen a scroll in a day when Braille and then all the modern tools that bring unsighted people into the mainstream of our communities were still thousand years into the future.

This wasn’t fair.

So they summon his parents. That doesn’t really get them anywhere, so they call in the man himself a second time. Now the Pharisees are loaded for bear.

So for the second time they called the man who had been blind and said to him, “Give glory to God … (ominous words for the accused) … We know that this man is a sinner.” 25 He answered, “Whether he is a sinner I do not know. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” 

There it is.

The one testimony they can’t twist. The one reality they can’t take away. The one thing he knows.

I was blind. Now I see.

They want more, they want a theory, they want to know Jesus’ technique, they want to find the crime, they are not accustomed to such a simple truth and will not have it on their watch. So things get a little feisty:

They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” 27 He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” 28 And they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. 29 We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” 30 The man answered, “Why, this is an amazing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. 31 We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if anyone is a worshiper of God and does his will, God listens to him. 32 Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a man born blind. 33 If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” 34 They answered him, “You were born in utter sin, and would you teach us?” And they cast him out.

Verses 26-34

When they have come up empty, all they have left to spit out is the accusation that loomed behind the original question of the disciples, ‘Who sinned, this guy or his parents?’ They find their certainty and announce to this man that he was born in utter sin.

When all else fails, inform the victim that it’s his fault. That’s all they’ve got.

Word of the man’s banishment from the community finds its way to Jesus. He comes back onto our page. This time he doesn’t happen upon a man born blind, he seeks out a manwhose sight he has restored, though it has cost the man his place in the town where he was born and raised.

The man still only knows one thing, but Jesus is about to shape that knowledge into understanding. Into redemption. Into a life and a future for a man who has gained his sight but lost everything else because of Jesus’ touch.

Jesus is now gathering one of his lambs into his embrace.

Jesus heard that they had cast him out, and having found him he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” 36 He answered, “And who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?” 37 Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and sit is he who is speaking to you.” 38 He said, “Lord, I believe,” and he worshiped him.

Verses 35-38

Have you noticed something strange about this man in this long passage that presents him to us, before he fades back into the shadows?

We never learn his name.

I believe there’s a reason for that. 

You see, this healing is one of Jesus’ signs. I believe John has taken care that we not end up reading this as a really cool thing that Jesus did to a certain guy once upon a time …. way back when.

By calling this one of Jesus’ signs, John is saying that this story … this anecdote … this testimony communicates how Jesus is and what Jesus does consistently. And so it says something about how Jesus’ followers experience him. Over and over again.

It allows us to join with this unnamed brother of ours … to stand beside him … and to say among the doubters and the accusers and the obsessive seekers of certainty … One thing I know. I was blind and now I see.

No one can take this from you. No one can refute your claim. No one can say convincingly, ‘you are deceived.’

This is not mindlessness. This is not anti-intellectualism. This is not escapism. Those things are all imposters that look a little like this, but they’re something entirely different.

This is the testimony of those who do not claim to see on our own. This is the foundation of the life for those who have been surprised by Jesus, the light of the world.

If this becomes our testimony, the one thing we know, it does have implications. If we see, then we see something. So what do we see in Jesus’ light?

  • We see that we were blind. That what we were living is not our intended condition. 
  • We see Jesus and we see by means of Jesus’ own light. We do not live and breathe via our own spiritual sophistication or insight.
  • We see that Jesus is capable of introducing us into a new, sighted reality, where things make sense … hold together … where things reflect our Father’s purpose. This is where theology and a Christian philosophy begin.
  • Because Jesus is the light of the world, we begin to see our world—illuminated by his light—as he does. Its goodness and its brokenness. Its promise and its tragedy. Its dancing and its groaning. Its eventual, glorious renewal.
  • We see that the power to give us back our sight is not ordinary. It comes from above. It’s an interruption of what we thought was normal when we were blind. We see that there is more to glimpse, discover, see. We become alive and alert to God’s purposes in his world. We see something of what he is up to. We rejoice in it, we join in with it. We invite others to abandon the darkness and come stand in the light of the world.

One thing we know. We were blind. Now we see.

Read Full Post »

We may live in a world with its horrors, yet we do not live in a horrible world.

There is goodness and gift aplenty amid these hills, in this city, within the troubled textures of this little life. (more…)

Read Full Post »

This handsome, sturdy reference work serves up the words of Jesus on an A-to-Z thematic basis with a simple, serviceable intro to each citation under the rubric of ‘setting’. The result is a highly accessible compendium to Jesus’ words, neither illuminated nor obscured by commentary, with just enough context to establish their environment.

It would be difficult not to be grateful for such a sourcebook. (more…)

Read Full Post »

At the risk of starting this review sounding like an incorrigible elitist, I must confess that I prepare myself for disappointment when I open a popular Bible study guide like this one. I anticipate that it will be poorly written or captive to a provincial North American point of view or hopelessly naive regarding the biblical text. (more…)

Read Full Post »