Whenever I hear this particular story from John’s gospel, it’s the phrase, “Come and see” that seems to stick out for me.  I really wanted to title the sermon something else this morning – anything else – instead of “Come and See,” which is, I suspect the same title I have used for sermons on this text every three years for the last twenty-six years.  But I just couldn’t get away from it.  These are “happy” words, words of invitation and welcome; words that seem to be opening a door to something exciting and good.  I’ll come back to that in a few moments; but I also noticed something else about the story this week – and that’s the words that are spoken just before that gracious invitation is made.  Words with a completely different tone.

We don’t know a whole lot about the two main characters in this story, Philip and Nathaniel.  They’re probably not as well-known to us as the Big Three in discipleship stories – Peter, James, and John; probably not even as familiar as Thomas or Judas.  We could do some psychoanalysis at a distance, I suppose, based on the little picture that’s drawn here.  We’re used to doing that with these others disciples that we’ve come to know better:  Peter, the impetuous one, always leaping before he looks; James and John, the ambitious ones, maneuvering for a place of power at Jesus’ side; Thomas, the doubtful one, needing proof before faith can come; Judas, the traitor.  I suppose the reason we like to categorize the disciples is that each one of them represents a sort of person with which we are familiar; maybe the person who lives next door to us, or maybe even the person who lives inside of us. 

So what about these two – Philip and Nathaniel?  How would we categorize them?  What sort of people do they seem to be? 

Philip seems to be the optimist, the one ready to see the positive possibilities in new things.  He’s found something important, and he wants others to find it, too.  I think of Philip as what the social psychologists would call an “early adapter.”  These are the sorts of people who want to be the first in line to buy the latest Apple product even if it will be cheaper in six months; or they’re willing to fight the crowds to see the new movie on opening night, instead of waiting a week until the theaters will be half empty.  Maybe these are the Worship Ministry Team members who want to sing all the new hymns in the new book, or the Church Council members who are always coming up with different ideas.  Jesus says to Philip, “Follow me,” and it doesn’t take much more than that to get him moving.  Who knows - maybe he’s heard that Jesus is only going to call twelve disciples, and if he doesn’t get in now, he might miss out entirely. 

There’s nothing wrong with being an early adapter, of course; it’s just a personality style that seems to account for about 10% of the population, give or take a few.  Of course, for the rest of us, who aren’t that quick on the draw, the Philips of the world can look a little hasty, a little irrational – maybe even a little bit foolish in their enthusiasm.

And then we have Nathaniel – in some ways, just the opposite of Philip.  Where Philip is ready to dash off to follow the Next New Thing, Nathaniel is full of skepticism, and more than that, full of cynicism.  Maybe Nathaniel also has his reasons for being the way he is; or maybe that’s just the way God made him to be.  I even imagine that maybe Philip and Nathaniel have had this conversation before.  Who knows – maybe Philip comes running to him every six months with another great idea, with another wise teacher to check out.  Maybe Nathaniel has learned from the hard knocks of life not to be so enthusiastic.  I think of the story of Petey the Parakeet, whose owner was vacuuming the old bird seed and fallen feathers from out of the bottom of his cage one day when he accidentally sucked poor Petey right up the hose and into the vacuum cleaner.  “Oh, my!” a neighbor exclaimed when she heard the news later; “But is he alright?”  “Yes,” his owner said, “I managed to fish him out of the vacuum cleaner bag in time – but somehow he doesn’t seem to sing as much as he used to…”  Maybe this is Nathaniel – wounded by life and hurt by the disappointments that have come his way, and not much up to singing anymore.  And so when Philip comes with all his excitement and energy, Nathaniel just can’t quite get his enthusiasm revved up.

But there’s something more than that in Nathaniel, and that’s what strikes me this week about this story.  It’s not just that Nathaniel is a skeptic.  He is a cynic, and that’s what shines through in the first response he makes to Philip’s news:  “We have found him about whom Moses and the prophets wrote, Jesus from Nazareth,” Philip says.  “Yeah, right,” is Nathaniel’s reply.  “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” 

Now I don’t know much about Nazareth in those days.  I know that it was not a cosmopolitan place; just a small town out in the countryside – one of those places where they probably roll up the sidewalks at dusk.  I remember when I was waiting for my first call and the folks at the American Lutheran Church in Harlem, Montana, called on the phone to interview me.  “What sort of a place is Harlem?” I asked in the course of the conversation.  “Oh,” the chair of the Call Committee replied, “It’s a pretty nice town, by Montana standards.”  Turns out he meant that it had paved streets and sidewalks – which actually did make it a pretty nice town, by Montana standards.  I don’t know about Nazareth – maybe it was a pretty nice town, by Galilean standards.  But you wouldn’t think so – not from Nathaniel’s reply.  Can anything good come from there? 

Now, let me confess – I can be as cynical as the next guy.  And I can enjoy a good round of that kind of table talk.  “All politicians are crooks.  The church is full of hypocrites.  The world is going to hell in a hand-basket.”  And when I’m worked up to a good cynical lather, I can defend my cynicism just like Nathaniel would have defended his, and just like you would defend yours.  “I’m not being cynical,” I would say, with that annoying sound of superiority in my voice; “I’m just being realistic.” 

Politics.  The Church.  The world.  Nazareth.  Can anything good come of it?  If that’s our definition of realism, then we would have to conclude that the Bible is the least realistic book ever written.  Because the Bible is chock-full and brimming over with cynicism’s opposite – that being hope.

There’s a certain optimism in the Scriptures that can be a little annoying sometimes to our cynical selves.  I find very few verses in the Bible in praise of cynicism and skepticism.  Instead, what seems to be there is a sense that – well, as Jesus once said, “With God nothing shall be impossible.”  And with that kind of a God, how’s a guy going to stay cynical for long?

Poor Nathaniel.  Once Philip has dragged him off to meet Jesus, all his sweet cynicism, all his worldly sophistication, all his well-honed realism, is going to fall off the cart and be left by the wayside.  Even Jesus seems a little surprised by the speed of the transformation.  He sees old cynical Nathaniel coming toward him and says, “Well, here’s one with no deceit” – which I guess is the Hebrew equivalent of saying, “At least with Nathaniel, you don’t have to guess what he’s thinking.  What you see is what you get.”  To which Nathaniel replies, “How do you know me?”  And when Jesus tells him he saw him under a fig tree a little while ago, it’s as if Nathaniel, even in his cynicism, has been hoping against hope that something worth hoping for, someone worth hoping in, might still come into his life.  “Rabbi, you are the Son of God!” - and I bet even that old optimist, Philip, was startled to hear his friend’s voice so full of life again, after such a long time.

Somewhere between cynicism and hope – it’s where we live most of our life.  It’s where our country stands this week, isn’t it, with an historic inauguration to come.  Still the possibility for politics as usual; still the possibility that the world really is going to hell in a hand-basket.  But another possibility comes to life, and people who haven’t felt much reason to hope for quite a long time suddenly find themselves hopeful again.  Now, Barack Obama is not the promised Messiah, of course.  And the hope his inauguration stirs in so many people is only a shadow of the hope we’re invited to find in God.  But on this weekend, with so many people holding their breath with the hope of change and renewal, this little story from John’s gospel invites us into a hope that will never disappoint.

“Come and see,” Philip invited Nathaniel.  It’s a simple invitation based on a profound conviction – the conviction that God is alive and well and at work in this world; that God is alive and well and at work in your life. 

How can that be? you might say.  Look at the mess this world is in.  Look at the shambles of my own life – hurts and disappointments, griefs and pains.  Can anything good come out of that?

There’s only one answer; and now it’s not Philip’s voice, but God’s own voice, extending to you this gracious word.  Is there any hope in this world, any possibility of love, any chance for forgiveness, any healing to be had?  Is there any reason for faith, any truth to live by, any meaning to be found? 

God’s own invitation:  Come and see.  Amen.