Jesus – knowing precisely who He is – grabs the people’s
attention by holding up the promises of God in one hand while smashing their
expectations with the other. Hungry for true food, the crowds keep asking, “Who
are you?” but Jesus, knowing their hearts, will only (somewhat playfully at
first) respond by saying, “Who do you think
I am?”
As He continues His journey to the cross, Jesus will ask
that question with increasing exasperation and frustration. But the people are
so wrapped up in their traditions, rituals and rules that they cannot see, hear
or abide the truth. When Jesus warns them that their failure to recognize, acknowledge
and accept the truth will eventually lead to the gift being bestowed elsewhere,
the people explode. They want it for themselves, and if they can’t have it, no
one will.
This, more than anything, demonstrates that they had abdicated
their future identity and designated role as priests of God to the Gentiles.
They had completely lost touch – physical, spiritual and emotional – with the
true nature and character of God. And yet, they were completely convinced of
their own righteousness. They didn’t understand that being “good” or being
“right” on their own terms – having a perfect morality of their own devising –
had nothing whatsoever to do with the righteousness of God.
Jesus never blamed the people for this disconnect. He blamed
the priests, the Pharisees, Sadducees and scribes – men who knew better; men
who were charged by God to teach the people and keep them safe. Men who were leaders, who led the mad scramble for the best seats, sat down and proceeded to do very little that fit within their job description.
In the beginning, God moved across the face of the waters of
a pool far more glorious than any of Olympus. On one end, the water was deep and blue and
cool, and the prophets would amaze the crowds with their acrobatics off the
deep end. “Look here!” they called. “Look at how great and wide and deep our
God is!” and then they would take a leap of faith into the air, tumbling and
spinning in breathtaking arabesque until they struck the surface of the water
with explosive force and energy and – with eyes wide open – slammed into God
without so much as a splash.
The people, meanwhile, would watch as they waded in the
shallow end, enjoying how the cool waters of God eased tired feet and lifted
their spirits. Some just sat down, fully content to stay put. Others were scared
of the water so they fled the pool. But a select few became enamored of the
beauty and power of the high platforms, the rushing plunge deep into the truth
and the simple, sweet pleasure of floating on one’s back, safe in His arms with the universe spinning and unfolding up above.
At first, the priests – lifeguards, instructors and strong swimmers themselves – taught the people
how to swim, how to dive and float. They explained that the platforms, pool and
water (the everlasting mikveh) all were God together – that the experience of
wading, paddling, swimming and diving were all a part of knowing God. One could
dog paddle, breaststroke or backstroke. All were welcome. All were taught to study God and enjoy His rest by walking on and through His
waters. God was and is and will be good, they said.
But over time, the people and their priests lost interest in
being swimmers. Some became more interested in sunning themselves on the
deck chairs around the pool. Others became judges of the high-diving prophets
and refused to listen to them, scoring and scorning them in the process. One lonely
day, the pool was closed and the people were sent away for 70 years.
When they came back – in trickles, then a torrent – they remembered
stories about the pool, but they didn't remember exactly what it was
for. With the best of intentions, they studied the pool and sought to
understand it and relate to it in the proper manner. Above all, they saw it as dangerous
– a child could drown! A man could lose his life! So they put up a fence around
the pool and chained it shut. They closed off the deep end and tore down the
platforms. They restricted everyone to wetting their toes at the shallowest end and drew up long lists of rules about water wings, inner tubes and
shower caps.
Meanwhile, no one truly cared about or for the pool. The
people were not taught to respect the awesome pool for what it was – the lifeguards lied and said it was just a place to wash their filthy feet. Neglected, abused, the
beautiful, deep blue waters of God turned muddy and green.
And then one day, Jesus came with a pair of bolt cutters and
a handful of chlorine tabs and called – sincerely, enthusiastically and
inclusively – “Let’s ALL go swimming!”
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