Yes
John 1:1-18
I can’t remember the last time I bought a CD, or even listened to a CD, for that matter. All the music I listen to these days is done on my computer, tablet, or phone and comes through my subscription to Apple Music. The Bang & Olufsen stereo that hangs on our living room wall is basically a piece of wall art at this point. We purchased that stereo about 25 years ago for $2,000, the same we paid for our used Volkswagen Jetta. Hey! A man’s got to have priorities.
While I enjoy the convenience of digital music, there’s a part of me that misses going to the record store and browsing through the selections, be they CD, cassette, or vinyl. Yes, I do remember vinyl. In fact, one of the first records I ever bought was a vinyl edition of the White Album by The Beatles. The White Album is a sprawling double album comprising thirty songs. Thematically and musically it’s all over the place. You have rockers like “Back in the USSR” and “Helter Skelter,” gentle ballads like “Blackbird” and “Julia,” and whimsical curiosities like “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill.” But there’s also one rather singular and infamous track that stands out even amid all the studio experimenting the band were engaged in at that time.
I’ll give you a hint…. “Number 9. Number 9. Number 9.”
I’m referring of course to that FM radio staple “Revolution No. 9.” First of all, if you’re not familiar with the song, consider yourself lucky. There’s no melody, no chorus, and no lyrics. The song is a mishmash of spoken word, sound effects, and orchestral loops that fade in and out, all held together—in theory, at least—by a recurring theme of a man saying “Number 9” over and over and over again. (Maybe one for the next open-mic night.)
Although credited to Lennon and McCartney, the song’s avant-garde stylings bear the influence of Yoko Ono, John Lennon’s then girlfriend and herself an avant-garde visual artist. Now, lest you think I’m going to criticize the much maligned Yoko, I’m not. In fact, it was an art exhibition of her work back in 1966, and John’s reaction to it, that inspired this sermon’s title. The interactive exhibit featured a ladder painted white that led up to the ceiling. At the top of the ladder was a magnifying glass. Those curious enough to climb the ladder and peer through the magnifying glass saw painted on the ceiling one simple word: “YES.” That’s all. Just “YES.”
Lennon had been prepared to encounter some sort of social criticism, something negative. He reportedly thought of avant-garde art as being “anti-everything.” Thus he was pleasantly surprised to be greeted with such an affirming word, even if its meaning were open to interpretation.
Our reading today also concerns one word, that being the Word. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”
That Word, much like the “Yes” of Yoko Ono’s art project, speaks to us a similarly simple yet affirming message. “Yes,” says the Word. Yes to creation. Yes to light shining in the darkness. Yes to those born not of blood or the will of the flesh but of God. Yes to the Word becoming flesh and living among us. Yes to grace and truth. Yes to life and light. Yes to incarnation and resurrection.
Over the past few weeks we’ve read accounts of Jesus’ birth from Luke and from Matthew. Luke’s is the much beloved Christmas standard—the Emperor’s decree, the journey to Bethlehem, the manger, the shepherds, the angels, peace on earth, and good will toward men. In Luke’s telling, all who hear of the Savior’s birth are amazed.
Not so in Matthew. Matthew paints a darker picture of the birth of Jesus. In Jerusalem the announcement of a Savior born in Bethlehem is not welcomed as good news by King Herod. Herod wants the child dead and is willing to murder every boy in Bethlehem under two years of age to ensure it. Warned in a dream by an angel, Joseph flees with Mary and the child to Egypt.
A proclamation of peace on Earth in Luke. A massacre of innocents in Matthew. And then there is John. The Gospel of John also features a kind of origin story for Jesus, but rather than describing the circumstances of Jesus’ birth, John goes back even further, all the way to the beginning. As in, “In the beginning.” That phrase, “In the beginning,” might sound familiar because those are the first words of the Book of Genesis, which begins, “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth…” (Gen. 1:1).
The author of the Gospel of John is making that connection to Genesis quite deliberately. John writes not of a baby born in Bethlehem but of the Word of God—the Second Person of the Trinity—who was with God at the very beginning of creation, and through whom all things came into being. Rather than situating his story in a particular place and time, i.e., within history, John begins in the mystery of the cosmos before there was such a thing as time. Rather than describing the birth of Jesus in words, John writes of the Word who was with God and who at the same time was truly God.
For such a simple word, “W-O-R-D” has layers of theological meaning. First, we consider the books of the Bible collectively to be the Word of God. After I finish reading aloud the Scripture, I always say, “This is the Word of the Lord.” In that sense we’re talking about the written word. The Word of the Lord is whatever Scripture passage we’ve just read.
But the Word of God can also refer to God’s speaking through the prophets in real time. For example, we often encounter in the Old Testament something along the lines of, “The Word of the Lord came to the prophet.” This is referring to the spoken word, i.e., God speaking in real time through one of God’s prophets.
And then there is this sense in which, among the authors of the four Gospels, John and only John uses it, which is to refer to Jesus himself as the Word of God. Jesus is the Word—the Second Person of the Trinity—who dwells eternally with God the Father and God the Holy Spirit. Jesus is the Word who was present with God at the dawn of creation…before the Big Bang. Before stars, before oceans, before mountains. Jesus is the Word made flesh, who was born in a barn and whose bed was a feeding trough. And in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.
Once Mary lays the baby Jesus in the manger, it’s only a matter of time until Jesus the man is one day led to the cross
The decision to take on human flesh is not one that God enters into lightly. There is no free trial. No money-back guarantee. God is all in from day one. Once Mary lays the baby Jesus in the manger, it’s only a matter of time until Jesus the man is one day led to the cross. There is no doubt about where this is all going. There are hints here in the first chapter of John, even though the word “cross” never appears. “He was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him” (John 1:10).
God appeared in the flesh, yet the world did not know him. People who don’t believe in God will sometimes say that a reason they don’t believe is that they don’t see God. If God were real, they say, wouldn’t God reveal himself in some way? Well, the truth is that God did reveal himself, but the world did not know him. In fact, we crucified him. “He came to what was his own,” John writes, “and his own people did not accept him” (John 1:11).
Not only did his own people not accept him, his own disciples did not accept him. Judas betrayed him, Peter denied him, and the rest ran from him as fast and as far as they could. Jesus who? Never heard of him!
And still, despite all that, despite the fact that the world did not know him and that his own people did not accept him, God says “Yes” to us. God says “Yes” to preaching good news to the poor. God says “Yes” to proclaiming release to the captives. God says “Yes” to restoring sight to the blind. God says “Yes” to letting the oppressed go free. God says “Yes” to forgiving sins…yours, mine, and everyone’s. “From his fullness,” John writes, “we have all received grace upon grace” (John 1:16).
To many people outside the church, and even to many who are regular churchgoers, their understanding of God is grounded in the word “No.” God is perceived as an angry and exacting taskmaster who is difficult to please. You see this in churches that put a premium on following the law with all of its “thou shalt nots.”
Listen, the law is good and true, but if our faith is rooted only in God’s “No,” then we have mistaken the law for the gospel. “The law indeed was given through Moses,” John writes, but “grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (John 1:17). Through the law, God says “No” to sin. But if we were any good at following the law, then the Word of God would not have taken flesh. The Son would have said to the Father, “Look at them down there being all righteous. They’re doing just fine without me. I can stay right where I am.”
But while the law says to us, “No, you will never measure up because the standard is moral perfection,” the law—thank God!—does not have the last word. God’s first and final word to us is the Alpha and the Omega, the Word made flesh. In Jesus, who was crucified for our sakes but who was also raised from the dead, we hear God’s ultimate “Yes” spoken to each one of us. We don’t need to attend an avant-garde art exhibition and climb a ladder and peer through a magnifying glass to read an affirming word on the ceiling in order to conclude that God is for us. Why not? Because “the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory” (John 1:14).