The What of God?
John 1:29-42
The Lamb of God. Twice in today’s reading we hear John the Baptist refer to Jesus as the Lamb of God. It’s one of those phrases that when you’ve been a churchgoer long enough you tend to take for granted. Trinity. Messiah. Son of Man. Lamb of God. These are all words or phrases familiar to those of us who’ve spent much of our lives attending church and reading the Bible. But you rarely hear these words or phrases outside the church and outside the pages of the Bible.
To keep from taking what we believe for granted, it can be helpful to examine our faith from the perspective of someone who doesn’t share it. With this passage before us, an obvious question then arises: Why the Lamb of God? There’s nothing special about sheep, or lambs for that matter, who are simply young sheep. They’re not that smart. They’re not strong. They don’t inspire awe. They’re passive creatures known for being timid, docile, and easily herded. When Jesus speaks of them, it’s not to highlight any special quality they have. It’s because one of them went off by himself, got lost, and needed rescuing.
Sure, sheep are useful, I suppose. Their wool can be used to make sweaters, jackets, and rugs. And lamb meat in particular is quite versatile, serving as the centerpiece of Shepherd’s Pie, souvlaki, and vindaloo.
But what does any of this have to do with God? Why would God want to be associated with a lamb, i.e., not just a sheep but a young sheep? An elephant, now that I could understand. Their size, power, and intelligence could suggest the divine. Or a lion. We think of lions as regal, the kings of the jungle. A lion would be an appropriate symbol for God.
The author of the book of Job, wanting to highlight the unpredictable and untamable nature of God, likens the creator of the universe to leviathan and behemoth, generally thought to represent the crocodile and hippopotamus.
The Roman legions, who were a constant presence in Jerusalem and the surrounding region before, during, and after Jesus’ lifetime, marched into battle and into conquered cities like Jerusalem carrying as their standard the eagle, an apex predator. The Roman eagle symbolized not only the legions, but the Empire itself and Jupiter, the chief god of the Roman pantheon.
Can you imagine if the symbol of the legions had been a lamb? Imagine columns of legionnaires, armed with spears, swords, and shields, marching in perfect alignment and rhythm under the banner of a lamb. The very idea would be farcical! Or imagine a modern-day sports team taking as their mascot a lamb. Instead of the Los Angeles Rams, you could have the Los Angeles Lambs. The opposing team would have to stifle their laughter. (Actually, the way things have gone for them this year, the Lambs might be an appropriate nickname for the New York Jets.)
The point is that you would think that the choice of an animal as a symbol for God would be—I don’t know—flattering to God! You could imagine John the Baptist saying, “Here is the Lion of God who defends the pride of his people.” Or “Here is the Eagle of God who keeps watch over his people from the heavens.” But no! John declares, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”
Excuse me? The what of God who does what? The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world? Did anybody ask for this? Was anyone expecting this?
The answer to both questions is a resounding no. Jews of Jesus’ day, and that would include all of the men who would become his disciples, anticipated the coming of God’s anointed, the Messiah. But in the popular imagination, rather than likened to a lamb, the Messiah was expected to be a Davidic figure, which is to say not only a literal descendant of David but someone who would lead the people in multiple respects as David did—politically, militarily, and religiously.
David’s rule marked the apogee, the highpoint, of ancient Israel. The twelve tribes were united under one ruler, the Promised Land was now fully theirs, and no foreign nation represented a significant threat. This time of extended peace and prosperity for the nation lasted for about 80 years, throughout the reigns of David and then his son Solomon.
But upon Solomon’s death, things took a turn for the worse. The nation became divided politically and eventually split in two, with Israel to the north and Judah to the south. With few exceptions, most men who sat on the respective thrones of each nation were disreputable, dishonorable, and corrupt. The prophets sent by the Lord at this time speak of the rich and powerful grinding the faces of the poor, of rampant injustice, of the oppression of widows, orphans, and aliens, and of a general lack of compassion and kindness in society. And as things soured at home, external threats began to emerge in the form of expansionist empires to the east. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?
By the early first century AD, the time in which Jesus lived, both the northern and southern kingdoms were long gone. First the northern kingdom fell to Assyria in 722 BC. Then the southern kingdom was conquered by Babylon in 586 BC. When John the Baptist appears in the wilderness of Judea sometime around 25 or 30 AD, his is the first prophetic voice to emerge in more than 400 years. And then John starts telling people about Israel’s Chosen One whom he has just baptized.
Among the people John tells are two of his disciples, Andrew, the brother of Simon Peter, and another unnamed man. Interestingly, only in John’s Gospel are we told that Andrew, before he was a disciple of Jesus, was first a disciple of John the Baptist. Presumably that would be the case for Peter as well. They are fishermen, but they are also seekers. They are waiting for the one who will redeem Israel. They are waiting for the Messiah.
Therefore when Andrew hears John declare that Jesus is the Lamb of God, he is excited. He follows Jesus, who turns to him and says, “What are you looking for?” What a great question! Not only for Andrew, but for us. Like Andrew, we also have chosen to follow Jesus. Why? What is it that we’re looking for? What do we hope to see? What do we want Jesus to do for us?
Like Andrew, we also have chosen to follow Jesus. Why? What is it that we’re looking for? What do we hope to see? What do we want Jesus to do for us?
If we’re honest, there’s any number of things that we’d like Jesus to do for us. Jesus, heal my body of this pain. Jesus, fix the broken relationships in my family. Jesus, help me get through this night without drinking. Jesus, take away my depression. Jesus, make this paycheck or this Social Security check last the month. Jesus, breathe new life into this church! Jesus, bring peace to this warring world. Jesus, give this country a sense of normalcy and decency again.
Listen, I believe that Jesus can and does answer our prayers, but that is not primarily why the Lamb of God came to be with us. Long before we even know what we want, Jesus comes to give us what we need. John proclaims it when he says of Jesus, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” Who takes away the sin of the world.
“Yeah, but that’s not what I asked for.” No, it isn’t. And it’s not what any of the disciples asked for either. They were expecting the Messiah to restore the fortunes of Israel, not be crucified for the forgiveness of sins. Sure, forgiveness would be nice, but it’s like seventh or eighth on the list!
Do you remember that passage in the Gospel of Mark when the friends of the man who is paralyzed drop him down through the roof of the house where Jesus is staying? They need to do that because the house is so crowded that they can’t get through the front door. Seeing the faith of the man’s friends, and with the paralyzed man in front of him, Jesus says to him, “Child, your sins are forgiven” (Mark 2:5).
For me, this is another instance of unappreciated humor in the Gospels. The paralyzed man must be thinking, “My sins are forgiven? But that’s not why I’m here. I’m paralyzed. I can’t walk. The problem is not my sins, it’s my legs!”
No, the fundamental problem is sin. His. Yours. Mine. Everyone’s. The Lamb of God came first and foremost to take away the sin of the world. He came and took the full weight of sin from of our shoulders and placed it upon his own. He was crucified for it, even though he himself was utterly without sin. Even as he hung from the cross and faced the mockery of the soldiers and the scorn of the crowd, he asked God to forgive them because that was what he came to do…forgive.
And in forgiving us Jesus also frees us to live in a different way, not bound by our fears, not defined by our failures, but open to the one who calls us by name and invites us to come and see.