“Jesus’ Beloved Enemies”

Noel K. Anderson

First Presbyterian Church of Upland

Text: John 11: 45-53 NRSV

45 Many of the Jews, therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him. 46 But some of them went to the Pharisees and told them what he had done. 47 So the chief priests and the Pharisees called a meeting of the council, and said, “What are we to do? This man is performing many signs. 48 If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation.” 49 But one of them, Caiaphas, who was high priest that year, said to them, “You know nothing at all! 50 You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.” 51 He did not say this on his own, but being high priest that year he prophesied that Jesus was about to die for the nation, 52 and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the dispersed children of God. 53 So from that day on they planned to put him to death. †

The sword of god

Jesus divides in order to unify

Today’s text immediately follows the raising of Lazarus. Jesus has revealed himself as Lord over life and death, and as this news spreads to Jerusalem’s religious elites, they are more convinced than ever that it is their duty to put him out of their misery. 

This entire text is dripping with sad irony. Jesus, the Messiah and Son of God, does everything he possibly can to show his hand. He is the one they’ve been awaiting, and better than just saying so, he shows them by miraculous signs. He fulfills their prophecies and comes to them not to dominate but to serve, and still, they reject him. 

In every episode, we see that Jesus does not unite the Jews but is the source of their division. Some are for him, some against. Wherever Jesus goes, and whatever he does, we see the people divided for him or against him. He is the sword that divides and separates the sheep from the goats. Jesus is Judgment Day for the Jews, calling his sheep who recognize his voice and allowing the others to go their own way. 

In Matthew, Jesus speaks of the sword directly: 

Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; 38 and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it. [Matthew 10: 34-39]

Jesus, the sword of God, divides in order to win God’s children to himself. The council of Pharisees, seeking to keep Israel united and secure, will sacrifice the Lord and see their nation dispersed to the winds. 

Jesus, the resurrection and life, has proven he is beyond the greatest powers of this world, including death, by raising Lazarus. The Pharisees, encountering the power of life over death, call for him to be put to death. 

Just as in the gospel of Mark, everything is backward, upside-down, and blindness rules the world. 

“WE Got THIS”

A sin we can all relate to

You may be already familiar with Fyodor Dostoyevsky. "The Grand Inquisitor" is a story within the larger story  The Brothers Karamazov. In the story, Jesus comes back to Seville, Spain, at the time of the Inquisition. But he is arrested by Inquisition leaders and sentenced to be burnt to death the next day. The Grand Inquisitor visits him in his cell to explain to Jesus why his return would interfere with the mission of the Church. The grand inquisitor says, in effect, "You've given us the keys of the kingdom; we don't need you anymore." 

This could be the story of the Pharisees and the Sanhedrin as well, couldn't it? Although they profess faith in God and claim they've given their all to serve him, once he appears to them as the Son and Messiah, they don't seem to want him. They've got it handled themselves—they manage a careful balancing act with Caesar, which allows them to play God's chosen people while living under Roman occupation. They did not need a Messiah—or even the Son of God—coming in and rocking the boat. They say to him, in effect, "We got this!" 

And here is a sin with which we can all identify—I got this. As in, "Thanks all the same, Lord, but I got this." Do you know what I mean? "I got this one handled, Lord, so no thanks." It's not the areas of our insecurities that trip us up, but the areas of our greatest self-confidence. 

Wherever we are insecure or fearful, we beg the Lord for his help. We seek him and lean on his word at every step. But in our areas of total self-confidence, we don't need him, do we? "I got this, Lord." 

Maybe it's your work—your long-term expertise and hard-earned wisdom—that can make you feel like you got this yourself, so you no longer need to seek his power and presence. Perhaps it's a long-term relationship with a spouse or family members—in this area, "I got this, I don't really need God here." 

In the areas of our self-confidence and personal strength, we may need God the most because those same areas are the places where we are most vulnerable—most likely—to discount our need for him. 

This can be true of our groups as well. We may feel we need him all the time on our own, but once we are with our team, group, or tribe—all is well, and we don't need him because "We got this."  

Prophet caiaphas

God told me, so we got this

“We got this” is the delusion of self-sufficiency, and this delusion of self-sufficiency may stand at the heart of all people’s rejection of Christ.  

The council of Pharisees felt perfectly self-sufficient in running the temple and keeping the political balancing act between Rome and the Jewish masses. When they hear about Jesus raising Lazarus, they immediately go into an executive hand-wringing session. “What to do! What to do?” 

“Jesus Christ Superstar,” the 70s rock opera by Tim Rice and Andrew Lloyd Weber (and of which you saw the clip at the start of this sermon), got a lot of things wrong as they tried to translate the gospel into a musical, but one of the things they got right was this passage. The council of Pharisees, let by the high priest Caiaphas, determine that Jesus must die for the sake of the nation. They saw the crowds supporting him and feared a popular revolt because they believed Rome would utterly crush them if rioting broke out. 

But more than this, we have a strange, religious revelation at work. Caiaphas, the high priest, had a prophecy from God that he had shared. “You know nothing at all!” says Caiaphas, “You do not understand that it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.”

While this sounds like political calculation, and it is, there is another element at work. Verses 51 and 52: 

51 He did not say this on his own, but being high priest that year, he prophesied that Jesus was about to die for the nation, 52 and not for the nation only, but to gather into one the dispersed children of God. 

Caiaphas prophesied that Jesus would die for Israel and that it would gather the dispersed children of God. What is more, that prophecy was true! Question: Is Caiaphas the bad guy here, or is he the legitimate bearer of God’s truth to Israel? What he says is, in fact, accurate, and we can assume it comes from God, so what are we to think of him? 

It is strange indeed. Caiaphas foresees Jesus’ death for Israel, so it’s weird for him to say, “therefore, let’s kill him!” Even though he and the other Pharisees may have believed God had revealed this truth, they are unwilling to let God see to it himself and in his own way. Instead, they say, “We got this—let’s kill him ourselves.” 

He got this

Surrendering in every hour

It sounds simple, but one significant aspect of our spirituality is the simple move from saying, “I got this” or “We got this,” to “Thy will be done.” It means that in every area where we feel relative self-sufficiency and self-confidence, we need to grow into praying, “Lord, what would You have me do?” 

It’s not enough to invite God only into our problems and insecurities; we must ask him into our successes, joys, strengths, and pleasures. Despite what we may sinfully feel, there is no part of our life for which we do not need God.  

We should never say to God, “I got this,” because we do not get as much as we think. 

We should never say, “We got this,” because we know we may be pushing Jesus out of the picture. 

Instead, our hearts should resonate with that old hymn:   I need Thee, Oh, I need Thee; Every hour I need Thee.

We are all on a spiritual journey moving from “I got this” to “He got this,” and the more we leave in his hands, the more we turn over to him our positives as much as our negatives, the more we know the joy of walking with him. 

Finally, just a word of encouragement: Jesus loves his enemies. He loves the Pharisees, though they’re wrong about so many things. He loves Caesar and the Romans. He loves the Samaritans, Egyptians, Persians, and Greeks. He loves the poor but also the rich. He loves the commoner but also the elitist Sadducees. He loves Lazarus, and he loves Caiaphas. 

Jesus would not command us to love our enemies if he weren’t already fully committed down that path. We can be sure that Jesus loves his enemies, which includes you and me on our very worst days. 

In The Grand Inquisitor story, after Jesus is told that the Church no longer needs him, he stands up, kisses the grand inquisitor on the forehead, and walks out.  

This is a cautionary tale to the Church in every era. The mission of the Church is nothing other than Christ himself—the person of Christ—not his purposes, or his coming kingdom, or his righteousness, or his teaching—but he himself. He is the message. He is the mission. He is all in all. 

May we all grow eager to invite him into every aspect of our lives, insisting that he always be our leader and guide. †

Questions

1. These verses tell us the people’s reaction after the raising of Lazarus.  What were the different reactions?
2. Why were there deepening divisions amongst the Jewish people?
3. Why do some Christians risk everything to follow Jesus?
4. How does Caiaphas unknowingly summarize in his comment in verse 50 the political perspective and Jesus calling to protect the sheep?
5. Jesus’ ministry was different from any that came before or after.  How are the followers of Jesus (the church worldwide) still remain different and unique?

“Solomon’s porch”

Noel K. Anderson

First Presbyterian Church of Upland

John 10: 22-42  New Revised Standard

22 At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23 and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24 So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” 25 Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; 26 but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 27 My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 28 I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. 29 What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. 30 The Father and I are one.”

31 The Jews took up stones again to stone him. 32 Jesus replied, “I have shown you many good works from the Father. For which of these are you going to stone me?” 33 The Jews answered, “It is not for a good work that we are going to stone you, but for blasphemy, because you, though only a human being, are making yourself God.” 34 Jesus answered, “Is it not written in your law, ‘I said, you are gods’? 35 If those to whom the word of God came were called ‘gods’—and the scripture cannot be annulled— 36 can you say that the one whom the Father has sanctified and sent into the world is blaspheming because I said, ‘I am God’s Son’? 37 If I am not doing the works of my Father, then do not believe me. 38 But if I do them, even though you do not believe me, believe the works, so that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father.” 39 Then they tried to arrest him again, but he escaped from their hands.

40 He went away again across the Jordan to the place where John had been baptizing earlier, and he remained there. 41 Many came to him, and they were saying, “John performed no sign, but everything that John said about this man was true.” 42 And many believed in him there.” †

the public square

A heaviness in the air

Solomon’s porch stood on the temple mount outside of the Temple proper. It was a public area where people gathered and speakers could address large crowds. It was the place of public discourse and commentary—their public square. The Feast of Dedication—what we call Hanukkah—was in progress. Hanukkah, you’ll remember, is a celebration of the light from an oil lamp that burnt for eight days before they could prepare more oil for the lampstand and rededicate the temple. It’s not just about the lights; it’s about the sanctification of the temple that had been destroyed roughly 300 years prior. 

Jesus, who IS the light, is in Solomon’s portico, and there is a terrible heaviness in the air because lots of the Jewish leaders are out to trap him, get him, and kill him.  

They ask him, “Come on—out with it—if you’re the Messiah then just say so.” But the question is loaded. If Jesus says yes, then he’s telling them that he’s the kind of Messiah that they’re expecting—a political, militant Messiah—which he was not. But neither can he say no because he is God’s Messiah, fulfilling the Messianic mission on God’s terms, not those of the people. 

So they go after him, and he tells them that his works scream out who he is and they should be listening, but they don’t because they’re not his sheep. His sheep listen to him and follow him. They want him dead for saying that he and the father are one. 

The whole scene is definitely unpleasant. Jesus is the light and the true Temple they mean to celebrate and rededicate (when Jesus says he is the one God has “sanctified,” he is fulfilling Hanukkah). His body is the rededicated Temple—but they call him a blasphemer and try to stone him. 

There is a horrid heaviness in the air. 

Do you know what that’s like? Ever felt a heaviness in the air: Do you feel a heaviness in the air right now? 

I don’t want to take any time or effort in describing it because you all know it and feel it already and I don’t want to bring you down.  But we know that in the public square of America—and indeed, the world—the air is heavy indeed.

We live on Solomon’s porch. We have public discourse and opinion aired constantly in our lives. It is inescapable—you can’t turn on the television or go online without a bombardment of opinions and feeling the crush of the heavy air. Things are not merely divided; they are divisive.  

Now Jesus is clearly divisive, but he is the judge of the world and whatever division he brings is justice, for he is merely separating the sheep from the goats--separating out his own sheep from those of other flocks. 

He is a dividing line, but he is never rude. His teaching is saturated with an invitation to follow—to become one of his sheep. 

Who is rude?   The Scribes, Pharisees, and leaders of the Temple are rude. What makes it worse is that they can also be quite nice.  They call him “Lord” and “Good Rabbi,” but while friendly on the surface they are rude to the core. 

Manners Matter

Especially when morality doesn’t

So here’s what we need to discuss: manners. 

The late humorist P.J. O’Rourke, whom we lost less than a month ago, put it this way: 

The modern world is a horrid place. It lacks anything enduring and true. It is devoid of every tenable value. 

All existence is in disarray. Religious beliefs are no longer believed. Love is much discussed but little practiced. Morals are in confusion when they are in evidence at all. And intellect is no consolation: modern intelligence has become well-nigh unintelligible. 

Given that life is such a mess, why should anyone care which fork is for the oysters? And yet this may be the only thing we can care about. Just as cleanliness becomes more important at moments when godliness is not possible, so manners come to the fore when more august forms of authority collapse.  [Modern Manners, p.6]

In other words, when authentic morality fails, manners may be all we have left.  

Manners are minor league morality. They take into account the feelings and sensitivities of others and act respectfully towards them. 

Some of you may remember Judith Martin, also known as Miss Manners, who wrote books with titles like Miss Manners' Guide to Excruciatingly Correct Behavior and Miss Manners' Guide to Rearing Perfect Children. I had both of those books when I started ministry and kept them in my car for several years, walking through them whenever I was out for coffee. 

I loved her work. It struck me as fiercely counter-cultural after the narcissism of the 70s and 80s.  She is full of moral imperatives—do this, never do that. And beneath it all is a kind of grace that allows others to be who they are—messed up people in whatever of a zillion ways people can be messed up—and it doesn’t matter; we can still sit down to a meal together without going for one another’s throats. 

She is a big believer in phoniness, which is a laugh. Telling her kids that they were having adult guests over for dinner and they had to dress nicely and act like ladies and gentlemen, her children said, “Come on, Mom, do you really want us to be fake?” “Absolutely,” she says, “I know you’re not ladies and gentlemen; you’re going to have to act like it.” She adds, “In turn, when you have friends over, your father and I will act our age and behave like adults, fair enough?” 

Manners matter. I’ve heard talk of Charm School as if such things exist but I’ve never seen one. There was a time when colleges—think the Ivy League—were associated with the cultivation of charm and good manners. Today, it seems many of our universities are teaching rudeness as a cardinal virtue. 

The air in America is heavy because we know so much division. When good manners were valued, polite people wouldn’t publicly speak about sex, politics, or religion.  These topics are now the central thread of public discourse. That shows you what we’ve become. And it is part of the reason the air seems so thick.

We must learn to connect over and above deep differences if we are going to be a society at all. 

The heavy air of our public square—today’s Solomon’s Porch—struggles with good manners because everyone seems so much more concerned with themselves and their own feelings than with those of others. We Christians proclaim God’s love and profess love as the central, universal virtue, but what is our witness worth if we are not kind or even friendly?.

Friendly or kind?

The deep and the shallow of it

Here we go a bit deeper, for there is a difference between being friendly—well-mannered—and kind. 

Talking to a pastor friend last week, he said something very interesting about his people:

“Our church is very friendly,
but it’s not very kind.” 

Do you get that? Manners are good, but they are only skin-deep. Manners matter, but they are the morality of the most shallow waters.

Maybe you’ve experienced that mere friendliness that is not kind. Did you ever enter a club where everyone was polite but no one truly accepting of you? This is what much of racism and other exclusionary practices look like—friendly on the surface but rejecting underneath. A smiling face that lies. “Friendly” lives on the surface; “kind” goes to the depths. 

Imagine, say, a LIFT meeting and a visitor—a nice lady in her 80s, Mrs. Grantham—shows up with a fresh stripe of red lipstick running across her front teeth. It happens. The friendly thing to do is simply ignore it and treat the person with friendliness and dignity. That is excellent manners. But is it the kind thing? The kind thing to do is to pull her aside and gently let her know so she can fix it. Wouldn’t we all prefer that? If I had a dime for all the times I’ve come to church with red lipstick on my teeth….

Only a fool would say, “How dare you! Maybe that’s her own individualized expression of who she is. Why would you presume it was a mistake or an error?”[clearly a college graduate—probably philosophy major] If you think that’s a ridiculous thing to say, then you may not be very well attuned to our larger public discourse here on Solomon’s Porch. 

Come on, we live in California! If a boy  wants to pretend he’s a girl, or a girl wants to pretend she’s a boy, we should all be friendly at least. Good manners always serve the common good. I am willing to use whatever pronoun they desire, within reason, because I want to be friendly, at least. There are people who present themselves with such enormous sensitivity that they are especially prone to offense and injury—much more so, it seems, than the rest of us—and it is right that we should be aware that they “bruise very easily” so to speak. 

Good manners prepare us to avoid offense, especially unintentional or accidental offense. 

But what does it mean to be kind? Is it possible to respect another’s convictions without feeling like you have to fix or correct them? Do we tell dear Mrs. Grantham about the lipstick on her teeth or do we simply ignore it? 

That’s the question. 

The Nice and the Good

Being friendly that we can yet be kind

As there is a difference between friendly and kind, there is a difference between niceness and goodness. Kindness and goodness are the deep water—and the spirit of Christ works from the depths. 

The Scribes, Pharisees, and leaders of the temple who approached Jesus in Solomon’s Porch were publicly well-mannered. They were friendly and nice. They called him “Rabbi” and “Good Sir,” as all well-mannered religious people are taught to do. They were, like the people of my pastor-friend’s congregation, friendly, but they were not kind; they were out to kill him. His goodness—his God-ness—was to them offensive. 

Goodness is often an offense. 

The world of today’s Solomon Porch wants us—Jesus’ followers—to be friendly, but not good. Our goodness may be offensive. They want us to ignore the lipstick on their teeth—which we can and ought to do—but when they say that we must accept lipstick-lined teeth as the new standard of beauty, and stand up and salute it in the public square, then we have a problem because we are servants to different deep waters than they. 

I’m shocked by stories of kids physically fighting their teachers in American classrooms. I’m shocked to hear about grown-up children who won’t sit down to a meal with family members because they disagree about politics. I’m fairly disgusted by party politicians in Washington who can’t show civility to fellow leaders across the aisle. I’m disheartened at how quickly divisions escalate into violence without civil attempts to work things out thoughtfully. We can differ in thoughts, feelings, and convictions and yet set our differences aside, sit down at the same table, and have a conversation that is not all about ourselves. 

As disciples and followers of Jesus, we must embody a counter-cultural kindness. We must be hospitable to all. We can be, because God in his grace has been hospitable to us while we were yet hostile and out to get him. We have been found, overwhelmed, and saved by grace. We should seek every means of being gracious. 

Jesus alone has the right to separate the sheep from the goats. We are wrong to think we have that same right. 

Jesus is kind, deeply kind, beyond all mere friendliness. Verses 27-28: 

My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand

The goodness of Jesus is infinitely deep. While we are yet hostile, he snatches us up, covers us with his grace, gives us spirit and spiritual life that is eternal and from which we can live and love. We can and will differ with our fellow citizens on Solomon’s Porch, but the differences don’t really matter because Jesus loves them all, even those who hate him. 

May we all seek to embody some of the grace, the kindness, and the charm that we see in Christ. †

Questions

1. Why do you think the parable of the “good shepherd” and the flock was so important that it took the entire chapter?
2. Why do you think the crowd continued to ask Jesus if he is the Christ?
3. In what specific ways in John’s gospel has Jesus clearly told people that he is the Messiah?
4. What are the two attributes of Jesus’ followers and why are they important?
5. Why is it difficult to practice these two attributes?
6. How do true loving relationships work and what attributes are necessary?
7. What does Jesus mean when he says those sheep who belong cannot be snatched from him/God? (See Romans 8:31-35)
8. Again some want to stone Jesus - Why?
9. What does Jesus mean by his argument that scripture “calls the gods”? (See Psalm 82:6)
10. Why are verses 37 & 38  important for us?
11. Why do you believe Jesus is your Lord and Savior?