Our reading today is John 4:46-54 and 5:1-18 – the first healing stories we’ll read this season. And in this time when access to healthcare seems like its own miracle, stories that really struck us both. We remember the signs and wonders of Exodus, and their importance in building a lasting faith for the people, as we see Jesus offer signs and wonders of a different kind. We imagine what it would be to be so close to that pool of water that held within it a promise of dignity, or maybe even healing – and slowly realize over weeks and years that it will never be your turn to immerse. When Jesus heals these men, can we imagine he is offering something more than a broken fever, more than legs with the strength to walk? And can we imagine a way of healing, in this story and in our time, that’s not dependent on the established systems? 

This week we’re reading the story of Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well, as told in John 4:1-42. Here we find a story about a Jewish man and a Samaritan woman, from communities that have hated each other for centuries, finding common ground at the well of their mutual ancestor, Jacob. We notice that their interaction starts out tensely, shifting only when Jesus takes the time to see her deeply and acknowledge the pain she carries with her. We marvel at her insight, to recognize Jesus as the messiah when others have struggled to understand. And we reflect on her courage to share her experience with her entire village, inviting them to come and see Jesus even though she hasn’t fully figured things out for herself yet. What if we take this woman as a model for faith, we wonder, who calls us to engage across difference, inviting others to share our experience of Jesus?

Our reading today is John 3:1-21 ... and it contains within it what is probably the most famous of all biblical verses, John 3:16–for God so loved the world. We find the verse in a story about a man who is drawn to Jesus and seeks him out, but struggles mightily-almost comically-to understand what he’s saying.How do the story and the verse each help us to read the other more fully? What do love, and truth telling, and eternal life have to do with one another? And what does any of this have to do with that story about Moses and the snakes?

This week we’re reading the story of Jesus disrupting Temple commerce during the festival of Passover as told in John 2:13-25. Unlike the other Gospels, which place this story at the end of Jesus’s ministry, John places it at the very beginning, just after Jesus’ miracle of turning water into wine in Cana. If that story had led us to think that Jesus was going to be all “yes,” this story puts us squarely into the “no.” In this case, Jesus’s “no’ is to the intersection of worship and business, as Jesus declares, “Do not make my Father’s house a house of commerce.” But what does it mean that the temple—and by extension our own churches and synagogues—shouldn’t conduct business related to worship? Sure, we see how having a church gift shop might be a bit over the top, but travelers need to exchange money, pilgrims need to buy animals for sacrifice, and pastors need to feed their families. Perhaps, we think, Jesus is holding out an idealized view of a future in which money is no longer needed for worship. But here and now, in a world in which money is in fact necessary, perhaps we can at least try to minimize business of worship, making sure our finances support true worship rather than designing our worship to bring in more business.

This week we’re reading John 2:1-11, the story of Jesus turning water into wine at a wedding -his first miraculous sign in the Gospel of John, and an unusual place to start. Jesus himself objects to his mother’s subtle suggestion that he ought to take action when she sees the wine has run out. I mean, come on - the stakes here are not that high. So the party-goers will be disappointed, so the host will be embarrassed.  So? Doesn’t Jesus have bigger fish to fry? But in choosing to act, he brings a hospitality beyond our wildest imagination into the story. Now, if Jesus can overcome his hesitation to act, if he’s willing to adjust the actual cosmic clock of the kingdom of heaven in the interest of hospitality...  what exactly is it that holds us back from generosity? and what we might be able to overcome? 

This week we’re reading John’s version of the call of the disciples as told in John 1:35-51. Unlike the Synoptic story of Jesus beckoning Peter, James, and John from their fishing boats, this version of the call of the disciples is more subtle and variable. Two disciples follow Jesus because they’re curious, one because his brother invites him. One gets a direct call from Jesus and another is skeptical but goes along anyway. It doesn’t matter how you receive the call of Jesus, we think, but just that you take the next step, however big or however small. “Come and see!” becomes a refrain in this text—but what do these new disciples see? They see Jesus, the kingdom of heaven come to earth, walking around and being human, not just teaching them but also showing them how to live a life, how to be human with deep authenticity that invites further relationship. How can we, too, embody that kind of life? Come and see, Jesus says. Come and see.

This week we move past the introductory material and into the story itself with John 1:19-34. It begins with John – John the Baptist, that is, who is indeed out there baptizing people, but he himself could hardly be more clear that what he’s doing is really not the point. What we should attune to is this lamb of God who is apparently right here among us. What does it mean to call Jesus the Lamb of God – what is that language drawing upon? What does it mean to say he takes away the sin of the world – takes away, in the present tense, even before his crucifixion? And why does he say the SIN of the world, and not the sins? We’re pretty sure there is more than one. 

On this special Christmas Eve episode we’re discussing the birth of Jesus as told in Luke 2:1-20. We talk about the imperial setting of this story, which takes place during the reigns of Augustus, Herod, and Quirinius but announces the good news of a different lord and savior who brings peace to all rather than to the few. We ponder the way that the message makes its way into the world—through an unwed mother, a band of shepherds, and an assortment of people who happen to be awake in the middle of the night—leaving the official power structures unaware of the fact that the world has been fundamentally changed. And we talk about how this story challenges us to pay attention to who we listen to, where we look for good news, and what divine announcements we might sleep through because we’ve gotten too comfortable. Merry Christmas, y’all.

For this fourth week of Advent we’re making the move to the New Testament with John 1:1-18, which describes the Word becoming flesh to dwell among us. We think about what it means for God to become flesh, and how lonely it must be to exist in a world where there is none like you, both a human and a divine being. We discuss the darkness of the ways of Empire, oriented toward death, which cannot comprehend the true Light, which orients toward the fullness of life for all humankind. And we take courage in the invitation to live in that light, knowing that the powers of darkness cannot overcome it. Take courage, friends. The light of life is coming into the world.

For this 3rd week of advent and our last week in the Hebrew scriptures, we are reading the gorgeous words of Isaiah 55. This text starts us out in these bodies we’ve been given, these bodies that need water and food, and joy, and God. Why do we consume so many things that don’t fill us up? How have things gone so haywire? What if we could just trust that there is a much bigger system we are being invited into, where our lives have meaning both alone and intertwined? And what if there’s a pathway to that way of being, coming up just ahead on the right? Would you take it? Can we trust it?