All things new and improved
Commentary
We don't much care for new things being forced on us, but we do like to have new things offered to us.
When something new is forced upon us, we have a kind of gag reflex that rejects the new and unfamiliar thing as an unwelcome change. We like to be able to chew on something before we have to swallow it. (We recognize and indulge this in ourselves, even though we often resent it in our congregations.)
When something new is offered to us, on the other hand, we are naturally drawn to it. Even if we had not previously felt dissatisfied with our "old" version, the offer of something new makes the old seem somehow inferior. And, of course, in our age of continual upgrades of computer software and hardware, we are encouraged to believe that our old version is, indeed, inferior.
As consumers, we are particularly fond of "new." The word "new" has been married for so long to the word "improved" in our culture that we have come to assume that they always go together. And often they do.
Even beyond our consumerism, we're grateful for the freshness and hope that come with a new season, a new semester, a new year. We find that a new coat of paint surprisingly rejuvenates a room or a house. Some of us feel inwardly renewed by having a new haircut or by wearing new clothes. We like the fresh start of a new job or of life in a new community. And we often wish that we could create that appealing new and clean feeling in some of our old, continuing responsibilities and relationships.
God offers something new. Indeed, in the end, God offers everything new. New and decidedly improved. And that's good news for us -- good news for us to hear, and good news for us to proclaim.
Acts 11:1-18
Marketing experts have made a science of determining how many different times -- and, for that matter, in how many different ways -- a consumer needs to hear a message in order for it to make an impact. But before Madison Avenue was trying to get through to us, God was trying to get through to us. And it seems that God, too, must communicate his message at multiple times and in various ways before we get it.
In the rooftop episode preceding this passage, Peter was a hard sell for the message that God was trying to convey to him. Then, in this passage, the same truth that broke through to Peter finally dawned on Peter's critics. That truth was that God wanted to include the Gentiles -- that salvation through faith in Christ was available for them, too.
Ironically, before the Gentiles could be converted to Christ, Christ's own followers needed something of a conversion. They had to change their thinking, their paradigm, before the gospel could go out into the Gentile world. It's an unnerving thought that -- then or now -- God's work is delayed because of God's own people. Surely he expects opposition to his work from a sinful world. What a tragedy, though, when opposition comes from his own workers.
God desired to do his work among the Gentiles, but the early church was initially reticent. They were stuck in an old understanding -- perhaps even an old misunderstanding -- that prohibited the Jews from much contact with the Gentiles. Even the very term used in this passage -- Gentiles -- reflects the fundamental us/them mentality of the early Jewish Christians.
It's not as though this rooftop revelation to Peter was a new directive from God and the early church just didn't get the memo. Quite the contrary, God had indicated again and again his desire to include the nations (which is literally the meaning of the Hebrew term, gowy, from which comes the Yiddish terms goy or goyim for Gentiles).
Back in Genesis, God chose the family of Abraham to be his own special people. But that choice was embracing, not excluding. God's expressed desire was not merely to bless that family, but that through that chosen family "all the families of the earth" (Genesis 12:3) and "all the nations of the earth" (Genesis 18:18) would be blessed.
The Psalms prophesy that "all the nations" will one day worship God (Psalm 22:2; 86:9), and the Psalmist calls on the faithful to proclaim the goodness of God among the nations and all peoples (96:3), and all the nations themselves are called on to praise the Lord (117:1).
God's global good will is made still clearer in the words and works of the Old Testament prophets. God's expressed plan for Jerusalem was not merely to be the holy city for his people only, but for all people, all nations (e.g., Jeremiah 3:17; Micah 4:1-2), and the Temple, too, was to be "a house of prayer for all peoples" (Isaiah 56:7). Jerusalem, God's people, and God's servant are all variously given the assignment of being a light and guide to the nations (e.g., Isaiah 49:6; 60:3), and that with the purpose "that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth" (Isaiah 49:6).
Isn't it interesting that Peter himself took some convincing on this point? Back on the Day of Pentecost, Peter had quoted the prophet Joel to explain the work of God, including the promise that God would pour out his Spirit "on all flesh." Still, what Peter understood in theory on the Day of Pentecost was hard to accept as reality in the house of Cornelius.
For the crowds in Jerusalem on the Day of Pentecost, the manifestation of the Spirit was not self-evident proof enough, and so Peter had to validate what was going on by citing scripture (the Joel prophecy). Meanwhile, for the early church in this episode, their own scriptures were not enough to make them understand that God's good plan included the Gentiles. They needed to see (or to hear that Peter had seen) the manifestation of the Spirit there in Cornelius' house.
Revelation 21:1-6
The way the Bible starts makes sense to us: "In the beginning." That's a good, logical place to start. We have our notions of where or how any particular thing is supposed to start. The introduction and preface lay the groundwork at the beginning of the book, not at the end. The overture precedes and anticipates the rest of the performance. The syllabus is handed out on the first day of class, not the last.
Here, in the penultimate chapter of the Bible, however, we are surprised to discover what sounds like an introduction, an overture. Right where we expect to find an ending, we find instead a new beginning.
What a strange time to start something new: at the end. What author writes an introduction at the end of the book? What coach implements a new game plan as the game clock ticks down to zero? Yet here we are introduced to an entire array of newness. There's a new heaven -- was there something wrong with the old one? -- and a new earth, as well, complete with a new Jerusalem.
But the newness God promises is not merely new surroundings. A dysfunctional family, after all, can move into a new house, but the new surroundings do not make their patterns of relating new. And so God's promised newness is not merely new environs but new everything.
The new arrangement includes the beautiful image that God's dwelling will no longer be far off, but "with them." Surely scripture affirms God's presence with his people throughout, but still there was always a recognition that his throne and his dwelling were off in heaven. No more. This is new.
Likewise, we find here that lovely image of comfort, which so many of us have quoted in hospital rooms and funeral homes along the way. "He will wipe every tear from their eyes." Some gospel songs have rejoiced in the prospect that there will be no more tears, no more crying in that day ("mourning and crying and pain will be no more"). But the promise here is one step sweeter than that. The testimony is not merely that tears will be gone, but specifically that God will wipe them away. It is a personal and tender act of comforting by God, and it is an embodiment of his making things new. God is not a sleight of hand magician who waves a magic wand and says "Abracadabra" to make tears go away. No, but rather he is a loving parent who makes the tears go away by wiping them away himself.
The final specific piece of newness mentioned in this passage is the absence of death. "Death will be no more." Death, in scripture, is a more comprehensive thing than the mere cessation of brain and organ functions. From the day that Adam and Eve ate the fatal fruit but kept on walking and living, we discovered that death is something deeper and more pervasive than just the end point on a person's time line. And we as Christians should be particularly aware of this truth, since we also understand that life is something more than just the continuance of brain and organ functions (see, for example, John 3:16; 6:47-51; 11:25-26).
Taken all together, this passage is a great affirmation of the goodness of God's original creation. What is promised and portrayed here is not new in the sense of being different. If I go to a restaurant where I always order the same thing and one day say, "I think I'll try something new," then I mean that I will order something different. What God promises here, however, is not new-different, but new-renewed. It's not something different from or other than heaven and earth and Jerusalem, but rather a new heaven, new earth, new Jerusalem. God's desire to dwell among his people is certainly nothing new for Emmanuel. And the promise of a painless, tearless, and deathless reality is really a return to the way God originally created and intended it to be.
John 13:31-35
Present your people with this statement by Jesus, but don't tell them where it comes in the Gospel or in the story: "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him." Ask your people when they suppose Jesus said those words, and not many are likely to place it at this point in the story.
Perhaps as Jesus enters Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, amid that ancient ticker tape parade, we might imagine Jesus saying, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified." Or when the crowd is eager to crown him king following the feeding of the 5,000. Or at his transfiguration. Or at the empty tomb.
There are a number of good, natural choices, but John 13 is not one of them. Just a few minutes earlier, Jesus was crouched down at his disciples' feet, his hands in the dirty wash water, performing a servant's function. And, just moments before he makes his "glorified" statement, he has watched one of his chosen twelve disappear into the night to betray him.
Now the Son of Man has been glorified? I'm sorry, but what did I miss?
It seems apparent that Jesus defines "glorified" differently than we do. Jesus does not use this word in any of the synoptic Gospels, but it is something of a theme in the Gospel of John. Jesus talks about glorification on three occasions (8:54; 11:4; 12:23, 28) prior to John's extended Last Supper scene. And in the dialogues, monologues, and prayer that make up that Last Supper section of John, Jesus makes repeated reference to glorification (13:31-32; 14:13; 15:8; 16:14; 17:1, 4-5, 10).
The theme and theology of glory in the Gospel of John deserve more attention than can be given here. For preaching purposes, however, it is worth noting that "glorify" is evidently not something a person can do for himself. As I cannot tickle myself, someone else has to do it, so too I cannot glorify myself. Jesus says as much in 8:54, and he demonstrates it in his later references. His aim is not to glorify himself, but to glorify the Father (e.g., 13:31; 14:13; 15:8; 17:4); he is glorified by the Father (13:32; 16:14; 17:1; 17:5); and both the Father and Son are potentially glorified by Jesus' followers (15:8; 17:10).
Jesus addresses those with him as "little children." Our common association with that phrase and Jesus, of course, is his "let the little children come to me" statement in the synoptics (Matthew 19:14, Mark 10:14, Luke 18:16). The Greek word (paidion) used there, however, is not the same as what appears (teknion) in this passage. Both are translated "little children" in the NRSV, although teknion never actually is used in reference to children in its several New Testament appearances. In addition to this one instance in the Gospel of John -- the only time Jesus uses the term -- Paul uses it as a term of parental endearment and concern with the Galatians (4:19), and it is found seven different times in the five chapter epistles of First John.
So in the larger scope of the Last Supper scene in John, Jesus identifies his relationship to his disciples as teacher, lord, master, and model of servitude (13:12-17), as the vine to their branches (15:1-10), and as a friend (15:12-15). Here, in his use of teknion, Jesus suggests a kind of tender parental concern for his followers.
The tender term precedes the hard (and, to the disciples, bewildering) news that "I am with you only a little longer" and "where I am going, you cannot come." Both of those unhappy statements, however, are ameliorated later, as Jesus promises to send the Spirit in his absence (16:7), as well as to return for them so that they can be where he is (14:1-3).
Finally, Jesus concludes this section with a "new commandment," though at first blush the commandment to love does not seem new at all (see, for example, Luke 10:27 and Leviticus 19:18). What's new about this commandment, however, is its standard for love (see Alternate Application below).
Application
Call it "Covenant (Version 2.0)." The original covenants with the Old Testament people of God involved almost exclusively one group of people -- the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They were marked by the circumcision-sign of the covenant, and they carried in their Ark the terms of their covenant. Now, however, the God who had for centuries promised that a new covenant was coming (see, for example, Jeremiah 31:31) had put the product on the shelf. Characterized by the mercy of its Maker, this covenant was extended to all people. They would be marked by his Spirit, and the terms of the covenant would be written on their hearts. That's surely new and improved.
Call it "Command (Version 2.0)." Centuries before the query prompted the parable of the Good Samaritan (see Luke 10:25-37) or the disciples sat around the Passover meal with Jesus, God instructed his people on how to love one another: "as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18). But now, after extended and concentrated time of knowing and being with Jesus, and on the eve of his "greater love has no man" act, Jesus issues a new version of the love command: not to love "as you love yourself," but rather "as I have loved you." That's surely new and improved.
And, finally, call it "Creation (Version 2.0)." The God who made heaven and earth makes a new heaven and a new earth. The God who made everything good in the beginning makes everything good again. And the God who made everything makes everything new. New and improved.
An Alternative Application
John 13:31-35. A common unit of measure in Bible times was the cubit. Those of us who grew up reading the King James or Revised Standard Versions will remember the familiar description of Noah's ark being so many cubits high, so many wide, and so many long. Likewise, later, with the story of Solomon's temple.
When we translate into contemporary measurements, we generally approximate a cubit as eighteen inches, for it was reckoned as the distance from a man's elbow to the tip of his middle finger. Of course, that makes the cubit a varying measure. I have a gentleman in my congregation who is 7' 2" tall. His cubit is longer than most.
If I asked all the folks in my church to break out their rulers, tape measures, and yardsticks to measure the altar rail at the front of our church, I daresay that they would all come up with the same figure. If, however, I asked all the folks in my church to measure our altar rail in cubits, then we would end up with very different figures. How many cubits long a thing is depends upon whose cubit you're using.
At the Last Supper scene in the Gospel of John, Jesus told his disciples that the time had come to use a new cubit.
The issue at hand is the measurement of love. The standard human measurement had been a flawed and fluctuating one -- I will love you the way that you love me. Then Jesus, reiterating the standard of the Old Testament law, commended a higher measure -- I will love you the way I love myself. The demand was significantly higher, though the measure was still flawed and imprecise.
Then, on the night before he was crucified, Jesus raised the bar once more. "Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another." Now I will not merely love you the way that you love me, for I will love you even if you hate me. Now I will not merely love you the way that I love myself, for I will love you at the expense of myself. Now I will love you the way that Jesus loved me. Now we are using his cubit.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 148
The theme of this psalm celebrates the glory of God. The praise is extravagant and unrestrained. The psalmist makes good use of repetitive themes to drive home the central message of the psalm, namely that God is worthy of praise. The psalmist, with great deliberation, leads worshipers through a litany of causes and effects that demonstrate the praise-worthiness of God.
Starting with the lofty places where God resides, the poet moves us from heavenly heights where angelic hosts are called to praise, all the way down to the birds of the air and the creeping life upon the earth.
The psalmist moves the call for praise into the human realm and begins again to move in descending order from kings, all the way down to the very young and the very old.
The psalmist concludes this sweeping litany of praise with the reminder of a hope. God has given life to (raised up) a "horn for his people." The word "horn" is a symbol of power and leadership. The gospels take up this refrain as we hear Jesus say, "God is glorified in me." Jesus is the horn God has raised to provide life and hope for God's people. He is God's glory and God is glorified in him.
The themes and the movement of this psalm create a unique opportunity to understand something that is intrinsic in the Gospel. While moving resolutely to the fulfillment of God's promise to save God's people, the psalm allows us to follow the movement of praise from the heights to the depths. The Gospel message, particularly in John's Gospel, does the same thing. Jesus is the one who leaves heaven to embrace the pain of creation. He leaves the heavenly realm, to the praise of the heavenly host, and descends to the earth. There, among God's creatures, Jesus discloses God's plan of redemption. As the heavenly hosts praised Jesus on his descent, so do the lowly creatures of this world -- including us!
In the realm of humankind, the psalm continues to anticipate the movement of the Gospel. Starting again at the top of the human order, kings praise the salvation of God. This praise continues all the way down to the lowliest among us -- the very young and the very old.
The Gospel message heralds this descent away from political power and wealth and toward the lowly and the weak. God's "horn" is for all people, but in the real world good things often go to those who have the money to buy them or the power to take them. The weak and poor are often left with only the leftovers. But this is not the way it will be in God's new economy. There will be praise from every quarter because there is salvation and hope for every person.
In this, Jesus said God is glorified.
When something new is forced upon us, we have a kind of gag reflex that rejects the new and unfamiliar thing as an unwelcome change. We like to be able to chew on something before we have to swallow it. (We recognize and indulge this in ourselves, even though we often resent it in our congregations.)
When something new is offered to us, on the other hand, we are naturally drawn to it. Even if we had not previously felt dissatisfied with our "old" version, the offer of something new makes the old seem somehow inferior. And, of course, in our age of continual upgrades of computer software and hardware, we are encouraged to believe that our old version is, indeed, inferior.
As consumers, we are particularly fond of "new." The word "new" has been married for so long to the word "improved" in our culture that we have come to assume that they always go together. And often they do.
Even beyond our consumerism, we're grateful for the freshness and hope that come with a new season, a new semester, a new year. We find that a new coat of paint surprisingly rejuvenates a room or a house. Some of us feel inwardly renewed by having a new haircut or by wearing new clothes. We like the fresh start of a new job or of life in a new community. And we often wish that we could create that appealing new and clean feeling in some of our old, continuing responsibilities and relationships.
God offers something new. Indeed, in the end, God offers everything new. New and decidedly improved. And that's good news for us -- good news for us to hear, and good news for us to proclaim.
Acts 11:1-18
Marketing experts have made a science of determining how many different times -- and, for that matter, in how many different ways -- a consumer needs to hear a message in order for it to make an impact. But before Madison Avenue was trying to get through to us, God was trying to get through to us. And it seems that God, too, must communicate his message at multiple times and in various ways before we get it.
In the rooftop episode preceding this passage, Peter was a hard sell for the message that God was trying to convey to him. Then, in this passage, the same truth that broke through to Peter finally dawned on Peter's critics. That truth was that God wanted to include the Gentiles -- that salvation through faith in Christ was available for them, too.
Ironically, before the Gentiles could be converted to Christ, Christ's own followers needed something of a conversion. They had to change their thinking, their paradigm, before the gospel could go out into the Gentile world. It's an unnerving thought that -- then or now -- God's work is delayed because of God's own people. Surely he expects opposition to his work from a sinful world. What a tragedy, though, when opposition comes from his own workers.
God desired to do his work among the Gentiles, but the early church was initially reticent. They were stuck in an old understanding -- perhaps even an old misunderstanding -- that prohibited the Jews from much contact with the Gentiles. Even the very term used in this passage -- Gentiles -- reflects the fundamental us/them mentality of the early Jewish Christians.
It's not as though this rooftop revelation to Peter was a new directive from God and the early church just didn't get the memo. Quite the contrary, God had indicated again and again his desire to include the nations (which is literally the meaning of the Hebrew term, gowy, from which comes the Yiddish terms goy or goyim for Gentiles).
Back in Genesis, God chose the family of Abraham to be his own special people. But that choice was embracing, not excluding. God's expressed desire was not merely to bless that family, but that through that chosen family "all the families of the earth" (Genesis 12:3) and "all the nations of the earth" (Genesis 18:18) would be blessed.
The Psalms prophesy that "all the nations" will one day worship God (Psalm 22:2; 86:9), and the Psalmist calls on the faithful to proclaim the goodness of God among the nations and all peoples (96:3), and all the nations themselves are called on to praise the Lord (117:1).
God's global good will is made still clearer in the words and works of the Old Testament prophets. God's expressed plan for Jerusalem was not merely to be the holy city for his people only, but for all people, all nations (e.g., Jeremiah 3:17; Micah 4:1-2), and the Temple, too, was to be "a house of prayer for all peoples" (Isaiah 56:7). Jerusalem, God's people, and God's servant are all variously given the assignment of being a light and guide to the nations (e.g., Isaiah 49:6; 60:3), and that with the purpose "that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth" (Isaiah 49:6).
Isn't it interesting that Peter himself took some convincing on this point? Back on the Day of Pentecost, Peter had quoted the prophet Joel to explain the work of God, including the promise that God would pour out his Spirit "on all flesh." Still, what Peter understood in theory on the Day of Pentecost was hard to accept as reality in the house of Cornelius.
For the crowds in Jerusalem on the Day of Pentecost, the manifestation of the Spirit was not self-evident proof enough, and so Peter had to validate what was going on by citing scripture (the Joel prophecy). Meanwhile, for the early church in this episode, their own scriptures were not enough to make them understand that God's good plan included the Gentiles. They needed to see (or to hear that Peter had seen) the manifestation of the Spirit there in Cornelius' house.
Revelation 21:1-6
The way the Bible starts makes sense to us: "In the beginning." That's a good, logical place to start. We have our notions of where or how any particular thing is supposed to start. The introduction and preface lay the groundwork at the beginning of the book, not at the end. The overture precedes and anticipates the rest of the performance. The syllabus is handed out on the first day of class, not the last.
Here, in the penultimate chapter of the Bible, however, we are surprised to discover what sounds like an introduction, an overture. Right where we expect to find an ending, we find instead a new beginning.
What a strange time to start something new: at the end. What author writes an introduction at the end of the book? What coach implements a new game plan as the game clock ticks down to zero? Yet here we are introduced to an entire array of newness. There's a new heaven -- was there something wrong with the old one? -- and a new earth, as well, complete with a new Jerusalem.
But the newness God promises is not merely new surroundings. A dysfunctional family, after all, can move into a new house, but the new surroundings do not make their patterns of relating new. And so God's promised newness is not merely new environs but new everything.
The new arrangement includes the beautiful image that God's dwelling will no longer be far off, but "with them." Surely scripture affirms God's presence with his people throughout, but still there was always a recognition that his throne and his dwelling were off in heaven. No more. This is new.
Likewise, we find here that lovely image of comfort, which so many of us have quoted in hospital rooms and funeral homes along the way. "He will wipe every tear from their eyes." Some gospel songs have rejoiced in the prospect that there will be no more tears, no more crying in that day ("mourning and crying and pain will be no more"). But the promise here is one step sweeter than that. The testimony is not merely that tears will be gone, but specifically that God will wipe them away. It is a personal and tender act of comforting by God, and it is an embodiment of his making things new. God is not a sleight of hand magician who waves a magic wand and says "Abracadabra" to make tears go away. No, but rather he is a loving parent who makes the tears go away by wiping them away himself.
The final specific piece of newness mentioned in this passage is the absence of death. "Death will be no more." Death, in scripture, is a more comprehensive thing than the mere cessation of brain and organ functions. From the day that Adam and Eve ate the fatal fruit but kept on walking and living, we discovered that death is something deeper and more pervasive than just the end point on a person's time line. And we as Christians should be particularly aware of this truth, since we also understand that life is something more than just the continuance of brain and organ functions (see, for example, John 3:16; 6:47-51; 11:25-26).
Taken all together, this passage is a great affirmation of the goodness of God's original creation. What is promised and portrayed here is not new in the sense of being different. If I go to a restaurant where I always order the same thing and one day say, "I think I'll try something new," then I mean that I will order something different. What God promises here, however, is not new-different, but new-renewed. It's not something different from or other than heaven and earth and Jerusalem, but rather a new heaven, new earth, new Jerusalem. God's desire to dwell among his people is certainly nothing new for Emmanuel. And the promise of a painless, tearless, and deathless reality is really a return to the way God originally created and intended it to be.
John 13:31-35
Present your people with this statement by Jesus, but don't tell them where it comes in the Gospel or in the story: "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him." Ask your people when they suppose Jesus said those words, and not many are likely to place it at this point in the story.
Perhaps as Jesus enters Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, amid that ancient ticker tape parade, we might imagine Jesus saying, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified." Or when the crowd is eager to crown him king following the feeding of the 5,000. Or at his transfiguration. Or at the empty tomb.
There are a number of good, natural choices, but John 13 is not one of them. Just a few minutes earlier, Jesus was crouched down at his disciples' feet, his hands in the dirty wash water, performing a servant's function. And, just moments before he makes his "glorified" statement, he has watched one of his chosen twelve disappear into the night to betray him.
Now the Son of Man has been glorified? I'm sorry, but what did I miss?
It seems apparent that Jesus defines "glorified" differently than we do. Jesus does not use this word in any of the synoptic Gospels, but it is something of a theme in the Gospel of John. Jesus talks about glorification on three occasions (8:54; 11:4; 12:23, 28) prior to John's extended Last Supper scene. And in the dialogues, monologues, and prayer that make up that Last Supper section of John, Jesus makes repeated reference to glorification (13:31-32; 14:13; 15:8; 16:14; 17:1, 4-5, 10).
The theme and theology of glory in the Gospel of John deserve more attention than can be given here. For preaching purposes, however, it is worth noting that "glorify" is evidently not something a person can do for himself. As I cannot tickle myself, someone else has to do it, so too I cannot glorify myself. Jesus says as much in 8:54, and he demonstrates it in his later references. His aim is not to glorify himself, but to glorify the Father (e.g., 13:31; 14:13; 15:8; 17:4); he is glorified by the Father (13:32; 16:14; 17:1; 17:5); and both the Father and Son are potentially glorified by Jesus' followers (15:8; 17:10).
Jesus addresses those with him as "little children." Our common association with that phrase and Jesus, of course, is his "let the little children come to me" statement in the synoptics (Matthew 19:14, Mark 10:14, Luke 18:16). The Greek word (paidion) used there, however, is not the same as what appears (teknion) in this passage. Both are translated "little children" in the NRSV, although teknion never actually is used in reference to children in its several New Testament appearances. In addition to this one instance in the Gospel of John -- the only time Jesus uses the term -- Paul uses it as a term of parental endearment and concern with the Galatians (4:19), and it is found seven different times in the five chapter epistles of First John.
So in the larger scope of the Last Supper scene in John, Jesus identifies his relationship to his disciples as teacher, lord, master, and model of servitude (13:12-17), as the vine to their branches (15:1-10), and as a friend (15:12-15). Here, in his use of teknion, Jesus suggests a kind of tender parental concern for his followers.
The tender term precedes the hard (and, to the disciples, bewildering) news that "I am with you only a little longer" and "where I am going, you cannot come." Both of those unhappy statements, however, are ameliorated later, as Jesus promises to send the Spirit in his absence (16:7), as well as to return for them so that they can be where he is (14:1-3).
Finally, Jesus concludes this section with a "new commandment," though at first blush the commandment to love does not seem new at all (see, for example, Luke 10:27 and Leviticus 19:18). What's new about this commandment, however, is its standard for love (see Alternate Application below).
Application
Call it "Covenant (Version 2.0)." The original covenants with the Old Testament people of God involved almost exclusively one group of people -- the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They were marked by the circumcision-sign of the covenant, and they carried in their Ark the terms of their covenant. Now, however, the God who had for centuries promised that a new covenant was coming (see, for example, Jeremiah 31:31) had put the product on the shelf. Characterized by the mercy of its Maker, this covenant was extended to all people. They would be marked by his Spirit, and the terms of the covenant would be written on their hearts. That's surely new and improved.
Call it "Command (Version 2.0)." Centuries before the query prompted the parable of the Good Samaritan (see Luke 10:25-37) or the disciples sat around the Passover meal with Jesus, God instructed his people on how to love one another: "as yourself" (Leviticus 19:18). But now, after extended and concentrated time of knowing and being with Jesus, and on the eve of his "greater love has no man" act, Jesus issues a new version of the love command: not to love "as you love yourself," but rather "as I have loved you." That's surely new and improved.
And, finally, call it "Creation (Version 2.0)." The God who made heaven and earth makes a new heaven and a new earth. The God who made everything good in the beginning makes everything good again. And the God who made everything makes everything new. New and improved.
An Alternative Application
John 13:31-35. A common unit of measure in Bible times was the cubit. Those of us who grew up reading the King James or Revised Standard Versions will remember the familiar description of Noah's ark being so many cubits high, so many wide, and so many long. Likewise, later, with the story of Solomon's temple.
When we translate into contemporary measurements, we generally approximate a cubit as eighteen inches, for it was reckoned as the distance from a man's elbow to the tip of his middle finger. Of course, that makes the cubit a varying measure. I have a gentleman in my congregation who is 7' 2" tall. His cubit is longer than most.
If I asked all the folks in my church to break out their rulers, tape measures, and yardsticks to measure the altar rail at the front of our church, I daresay that they would all come up with the same figure. If, however, I asked all the folks in my church to measure our altar rail in cubits, then we would end up with very different figures. How many cubits long a thing is depends upon whose cubit you're using.
At the Last Supper scene in the Gospel of John, Jesus told his disciples that the time had come to use a new cubit.
The issue at hand is the measurement of love. The standard human measurement had been a flawed and fluctuating one -- I will love you the way that you love me. Then Jesus, reiterating the standard of the Old Testament law, commended a higher measure -- I will love you the way I love myself. The demand was significantly higher, though the measure was still flawed and imprecise.
Then, on the night before he was crucified, Jesus raised the bar once more. "Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another." Now I will not merely love you the way that you love me, for I will love you even if you hate me. Now I will not merely love you the way that I love myself, for I will love you at the expense of myself. Now I will love you the way that Jesus loved me. Now we are using his cubit.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 148
The theme of this psalm celebrates the glory of God. The praise is extravagant and unrestrained. The psalmist makes good use of repetitive themes to drive home the central message of the psalm, namely that God is worthy of praise. The psalmist, with great deliberation, leads worshipers through a litany of causes and effects that demonstrate the praise-worthiness of God.
Starting with the lofty places where God resides, the poet moves us from heavenly heights where angelic hosts are called to praise, all the way down to the birds of the air and the creeping life upon the earth.
The psalmist moves the call for praise into the human realm and begins again to move in descending order from kings, all the way down to the very young and the very old.
The psalmist concludes this sweeping litany of praise with the reminder of a hope. God has given life to (raised up) a "horn for his people." The word "horn" is a symbol of power and leadership. The gospels take up this refrain as we hear Jesus say, "God is glorified in me." Jesus is the horn God has raised to provide life and hope for God's people. He is God's glory and God is glorified in him.
The themes and the movement of this psalm create a unique opportunity to understand something that is intrinsic in the Gospel. While moving resolutely to the fulfillment of God's promise to save God's people, the psalm allows us to follow the movement of praise from the heights to the depths. The Gospel message, particularly in John's Gospel, does the same thing. Jesus is the one who leaves heaven to embrace the pain of creation. He leaves the heavenly realm, to the praise of the heavenly host, and descends to the earth. There, among God's creatures, Jesus discloses God's plan of redemption. As the heavenly hosts praised Jesus on his descent, so do the lowly creatures of this world -- including us!
In the realm of humankind, the psalm continues to anticipate the movement of the Gospel. Starting again at the top of the human order, kings praise the salvation of God. This praise continues all the way down to the lowliest among us -- the very young and the very old.
The Gospel message heralds this descent away from political power and wealth and toward the lowly and the weak. God's "horn" is for all people, but in the real world good things often go to those who have the money to buy them or the power to take them. The weak and poor are often left with only the leftovers. But this is not the way it will be in God's new economy. There will be praise from every quarter because there is salvation and hope for every person.
In this, Jesus said God is glorified.
