Nicknames and Naked Guys
I have to admit, I gave myself a little bit of a challenge this week. First, in picking the scriptures I did; and then in choosing the sermon title, “Nicknames and Naked Guys,” before I wrote the sermon. And now, having written the sermon, I feel I've given you all a bit of false advertising, because the message isn't nearly as scandalous as the title might have you believe.
For the scriptures, the passage of Doubting Thomas is the lectionary reading for this week, and what we usually hear right after Easter Sunday. The other passage, is the one I really want to focus on. Not just because it has a naked guy streaking his way through the scene as Jesus is arrested. But because we don't know his name. And I think that's important.
I'm also going to remind you of a third scripture passage, one that we read just last week, when Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that it was empty. And she ran to tell Simon Peter and “the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved.”
In that passage, Simon Peter has a name. The other disciple... we don't know with certainty who it is. He's simply referred to as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” Traditionally it's thought to be the author of the gospel, John, himself. But there's no textual or historical evidence for that. All we know is that the disciple in that passage is unnamed, except that he is loved.
The same goes for our streaker friend here at Jesus's arrest. Again, some traditional sources ascribed the identity of the unknown man as the gospel-writer, in this case, Mark. Or some other disciple. Or not a disciple at all, but a less-closely affiliated follower. But again, all we know is that he is unnamed. And naked.
In our Easter message last week, we saw the importance of being recognized by name. That God calls us, not just by family or tribe or nation, but each one of us as individuals. Mary was lost in a fog of confusion, not even recognizing Jesus until he called her by name. And that summons to her identity brought her out of darkness and into the light of Christ's reality.
Our two unnamed friends in these passages, the disciple whom Jesus loved, and the man in the linen cloth who was following Jesus, aren't recorded to us in the scriptures by name. Which raises questions.
Names are important things in the Bible. There's a reason the scribes took pains to record the genealogies, going name by name through the generations, giving us paragraphs of names, even if they don't mean much to us. They meant something to them. To be named is to be connected to the larger story. Jesus is connected to David through these names. David to Abraham. Abraham to Adam and Eve. To be named is to be centered in the story. To belong.
To be unnamed, however, that gives us pause. That says something as well. There are some prominent people in the Bible who remain nameless. The three magi who bring gifts to the infant Jesus in Bethlehem. Important people in the nativity, to be sure; but still outsiders. Jesus also uses unnamed people a lot in his parables. The woman at the well; the Good Samaritan; the prodigal Son – characters in stories, but maybe not real historical figures. Important to the points Jesus was making, but really necessary to know specifically who they were.
So what do we make of our two unnamed witnesses to the passion? The follower of Jesus who ran away naked from the arrest? And the one who ran with Simon to the tomb?
They're not unimportant. They're not outsiders. They're not mere elements of a story Jesus told to make a point. We don't know who they are, but one was called beloved of Jesus. The other, a follower who was a witness to the arrest. In either case, far lesser figures in the Bible are known by name and even backstory. But we don't know these two.
Yet they share a commonality – besides just having murky identities.
They're both introduced to us in the Bible in times of absolute panic.
When the tomb is discovered empty and Mary rushes to tell the disciples, the scripture writer goes to great lengths to tell us the speed at which Simon and the other one run to get to the crypt, and that Simon was outrun. It's urgent – they have to see what was happening. They have to know.
And at the arrest, it's a chaotic scene. We can imagine lots of shouting and shoving as Jesus is arrested, and in this bedlam and confusion, this unknown follower does as everyone else in the area does. He deserts Jesus and flees. And we can imagine there might have been a struggle or a fight, as he tries to escape, and his robe is torn from him, and runs away naked.
It may be to his benefit that he remains nameless to us.
Not everyone whose name is remembered is remembered favorably.
The disciple Thomas, whose story we also read today, is rarely remembered without the nickname “Doubting” in front of his name. He was not a witness to the resurrected Christ, he only heard stories about it, so his reaction is perfectly understandable. But because he acted the same way most anyone would, I think, his name has that “Doubting” pejorative added to it. Not a great way to be remembered.
Simon Peter – the slower of the two disciples who ran to the tomb – the one whom Jesus said, “You are my rock, on you I will build my church,” is the same Peter we remember as denying Jesus three times after the arrest.
He is beloved by Jesus; counted on by Jesus, yet still his moment of shame before our Lord is recorded and remembered even now, after thousands of years. His story isn't sugarcoated or whitewashed. We're given the bad as well as the good.
His companion to the tomb that day is not recorded. The one who outran Peter. And I don't have a satisfying answer for why. It would have been so much easier; so much simpler to write “John” or “Andrew” or “James” or whoever it was; to simply write their name instead of “the one whom Jesus loved.”
Which leads me to speculate that perhaps, by the time the story was written, many decades after the events actually happened, that there may been been competing stories or confusion. Perhaps one version of the story said it was Simon and John, and another Simon and James who ran to the tomb. But, as I said, that's speculation; we don't know. We can't say for certain. Which, to my mind, does that disciple a disservice. I wish we knew who it was, simply because it would help complete the story.
What we're left with is this – a story of our Christ that is, to our view, incomplete. With details we wish we knew. Names have been left out, sometimes to the person's detriment, sometimes to their benefit. With the follower who ran away naked, what was going on on that day that'd he'd have been out and about in just a linen tunic anyway? Did Thomas really do anything that any other person wouldn't have done to deserve his nickname? Why do we know exactly who some people are, down to their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, yet others we only know through vague generalizations?
Sometimes when we look at the details of the story, they lead to more questions than we can possibly have answers for. And that's a little bit frustrating for those of us who like to know everything there is to know and leave no stone unturned.
But I think what we're seeing here is that, in some things, the identities of the people in the scripture are vitally important. And so we know Thomas. We know of his status as a disciple. We know his closeness to Jesus and love for Jesus, and so that makes the “doubting” hit so much closer to home. It helps us to understand Thomas's feelings because we know who Thomas is.
At Jesus's arrest and at the empty tomb, the identities of who was there matter much, much less. What matters is what happened. And in not telling us otherwise vital information, we're given a glimpse into the frenetic urgency of it all. These events were not slow, plodding things that developed over the course of hours, where people were leisurely taking notes of who was there and who wasn't.
These were frantic, terrifying moments. Mere minutes – even seconds of time when the entire world was changing. In a matter of moments, Jesus is arrested, a guard is attacked; his ear cut off; and Jesus calls his followers off and surrenders himself, giving his faithful a chance to escape, with at least one person losing his tunic in the process. And that all happened, probably in less time than it took me to say it.
In mere minutes, Simon and one of the other disciples hear the news that Jesus's tomb is empty. And that must have been a minute of tremendous confusion. They don't yet know of the resurrection. So they're probably thinking thieves and grave-robbers, or that the Romans have taken the body themselves. Any number of things could have been going through their minds, and so they run. They run because they need to know; they need to see; they need to find out.
That's the important thing; not the who. But the what.
These moments of the passion liturgy, we read them in church and we tend to read them like we usually read the scripture – in slow and solemn voices like we're at a funeral. But we're really getting snippets from action movies, and if we were to film them, we'd probably see these scenes done with a shaky cam and suspenseful, scary background music.
Jesus was arrested! Arrested in bloody chaos! Someone's ear got chopped off! It's violent and frenetic and it's a moment that galvanizes everyone who's there to see it. It's a turning point in the faith, when Jesus goes from being another smart rabbi in a city full of smart rabbis to a sacrificial figure; a rallying cry for the poor and oppressed; a soon-to-be martyr.
And Jesus became that martyr, dying on the cross, only to live again. And that's a chaotic scene as well. Disciples running to the tomb, rumors flying around the city, no one knowing what is going on, until the resurrection is revealed. An even bigger turning point in the faith, when Christ goes from martyr to Savior. When every prophecy, every riddle, every cryptic thing he said that people took figuratively, symbolically – came literally to pass. And he returned from death in body and soul.
It's the stories that are central to who we are and what we believe. It's our history as we ourselves are people of the resurrection. I wish we knew every jot and tittle of everyone's story; I really wish we did. But the bigger picture is complete. The story remains true. We worship a God who prays on our behalf. Who treats us with love. Who let himself be betrayed to his own death. And who returns to us from that death; inviting us to join him in the resurrection story, each of us by name. That is the grace and glory of Jesus Christ. Our Lord and our salvation. Amen.
Let us pray.
Holy God, for the precious gift of your Son, Jesus Christ, we give you thanks. We give you thanks for the faithful witness of the gospels; that even after a hundred generations we may still know your Word to us. That the remarkable story of death and new life, of betrayal and resurrection, of which we are all a part, still stirs deeply within us. Lord God, we trust in you, that when our day comes, that you might call us by name into your endless love to be counted among the saints. Gracious god of eternal life and renewal, we pray to you in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
I have to admit, I gave myself a little bit of a challenge this week. First, in picking the scriptures I did; and then in choosing the sermon title, “Nicknames and Naked Guys,” before I wrote the sermon. And now, having written the sermon, I feel I've given you all a bit of false advertising, because the message isn't nearly as scandalous as the title might have you believe.
For the scriptures, the passage of Doubting Thomas is the lectionary reading for this week, and what we usually hear right after Easter Sunday. The other passage, is the one I really want to focus on. Not just because it has a naked guy streaking his way through the scene as Jesus is arrested. But because we don't know his name. And I think that's important.
I'm also going to remind you of a third scripture passage, one that we read just last week, when Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that it was empty. And she ran to tell Simon Peter and “the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved.”
In that passage, Simon Peter has a name. The other disciple... we don't know with certainty who it is. He's simply referred to as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.” Traditionally it's thought to be the author of the gospel, John, himself. But there's no textual or historical evidence for that. All we know is that the disciple in that passage is unnamed, except that he is loved.
The same goes for our streaker friend here at Jesus's arrest. Again, some traditional sources ascribed the identity of the unknown man as the gospel-writer, in this case, Mark. Or some other disciple. Or not a disciple at all, but a less-closely affiliated follower. But again, all we know is that he is unnamed. And naked.
In our Easter message last week, we saw the importance of being recognized by name. That God calls us, not just by family or tribe or nation, but each one of us as individuals. Mary was lost in a fog of confusion, not even recognizing Jesus until he called her by name. And that summons to her identity brought her out of darkness and into the light of Christ's reality.
Our two unnamed friends in these passages, the disciple whom Jesus loved, and the man in the linen cloth who was following Jesus, aren't recorded to us in the scriptures by name. Which raises questions.
Names are important things in the Bible. There's a reason the scribes took pains to record the genealogies, going name by name through the generations, giving us paragraphs of names, even if they don't mean much to us. They meant something to them. To be named is to be connected to the larger story. Jesus is connected to David through these names. David to Abraham. Abraham to Adam and Eve. To be named is to be centered in the story. To belong.
To be unnamed, however, that gives us pause. That says something as well. There are some prominent people in the Bible who remain nameless. The three magi who bring gifts to the infant Jesus in Bethlehem. Important people in the nativity, to be sure; but still outsiders. Jesus also uses unnamed people a lot in his parables. The woman at the well; the Good Samaritan; the prodigal Son – characters in stories, but maybe not real historical figures. Important to the points Jesus was making, but really necessary to know specifically who they were.
So what do we make of our two unnamed witnesses to the passion? The follower of Jesus who ran away naked from the arrest? And the one who ran with Simon to the tomb?
They're not unimportant. They're not outsiders. They're not mere elements of a story Jesus told to make a point. We don't know who they are, but one was called beloved of Jesus. The other, a follower who was a witness to the arrest. In either case, far lesser figures in the Bible are known by name and even backstory. But we don't know these two.
Yet they share a commonality – besides just having murky identities.
They're both introduced to us in the Bible in times of absolute panic.
When the tomb is discovered empty and Mary rushes to tell the disciples, the scripture writer goes to great lengths to tell us the speed at which Simon and the other one run to get to the crypt, and that Simon was outrun. It's urgent – they have to see what was happening. They have to know.
And at the arrest, it's a chaotic scene. We can imagine lots of shouting and shoving as Jesus is arrested, and in this bedlam and confusion, this unknown follower does as everyone else in the area does. He deserts Jesus and flees. And we can imagine there might have been a struggle or a fight, as he tries to escape, and his robe is torn from him, and runs away naked.
It may be to his benefit that he remains nameless to us.
Not everyone whose name is remembered is remembered favorably.
The disciple Thomas, whose story we also read today, is rarely remembered without the nickname “Doubting” in front of his name. He was not a witness to the resurrected Christ, he only heard stories about it, so his reaction is perfectly understandable. But because he acted the same way most anyone would, I think, his name has that “Doubting” pejorative added to it. Not a great way to be remembered.
Simon Peter – the slower of the two disciples who ran to the tomb – the one whom Jesus said, “You are my rock, on you I will build my church,” is the same Peter we remember as denying Jesus three times after the arrest.
He is beloved by Jesus; counted on by Jesus, yet still his moment of shame before our Lord is recorded and remembered even now, after thousands of years. His story isn't sugarcoated or whitewashed. We're given the bad as well as the good.
His companion to the tomb that day is not recorded. The one who outran Peter. And I don't have a satisfying answer for why. It would have been so much easier; so much simpler to write “John” or “Andrew” or “James” or whoever it was; to simply write their name instead of “the one whom Jesus loved.”
Which leads me to speculate that perhaps, by the time the story was written, many decades after the events actually happened, that there may been been competing stories or confusion. Perhaps one version of the story said it was Simon and John, and another Simon and James who ran to the tomb. But, as I said, that's speculation; we don't know. We can't say for certain. Which, to my mind, does that disciple a disservice. I wish we knew who it was, simply because it would help complete the story.
What we're left with is this – a story of our Christ that is, to our view, incomplete. With details we wish we knew. Names have been left out, sometimes to the person's detriment, sometimes to their benefit. With the follower who ran away naked, what was going on on that day that'd he'd have been out and about in just a linen tunic anyway? Did Thomas really do anything that any other person wouldn't have done to deserve his nickname? Why do we know exactly who some people are, down to their parents and grandparents and great-grandparents, yet others we only know through vague generalizations?
Sometimes when we look at the details of the story, they lead to more questions than we can possibly have answers for. And that's a little bit frustrating for those of us who like to know everything there is to know and leave no stone unturned.
But I think what we're seeing here is that, in some things, the identities of the people in the scripture are vitally important. And so we know Thomas. We know of his status as a disciple. We know his closeness to Jesus and love for Jesus, and so that makes the “doubting” hit so much closer to home. It helps us to understand Thomas's feelings because we know who Thomas is.
At Jesus's arrest and at the empty tomb, the identities of who was there matter much, much less. What matters is what happened. And in not telling us otherwise vital information, we're given a glimpse into the frenetic urgency of it all. These events were not slow, plodding things that developed over the course of hours, where people were leisurely taking notes of who was there and who wasn't.
These were frantic, terrifying moments. Mere minutes – even seconds of time when the entire world was changing. In a matter of moments, Jesus is arrested, a guard is attacked; his ear cut off; and Jesus calls his followers off and surrenders himself, giving his faithful a chance to escape, with at least one person losing his tunic in the process. And that all happened, probably in less time than it took me to say it.
In mere minutes, Simon and one of the other disciples hear the news that Jesus's tomb is empty. And that must have been a minute of tremendous confusion. They don't yet know of the resurrection. So they're probably thinking thieves and grave-robbers, or that the Romans have taken the body themselves. Any number of things could have been going through their minds, and so they run. They run because they need to know; they need to see; they need to find out.
That's the important thing; not the who. But the what.
These moments of the passion liturgy, we read them in church and we tend to read them like we usually read the scripture – in slow and solemn voices like we're at a funeral. But we're really getting snippets from action movies, and if we were to film them, we'd probably see these scenes done with a shaky cam and suspenseful, scary background music.
Jesus was arrested! Arrested in bloody chaos! Someone's ear got chopped off! It's violent and frenetic and it's a moment that galvanizes everyone who's there to see it. It's a turning point in the faith, when Jesus goes from being another smart rabbi in a city full of smart rabbis to a sacrificial figure; a rallying cry for the poor and oppressed; a soon-to-be martyr.
And Jesus became that martyr, dying on the cross, only to live again. And that's a chaotic scene as well. Disciples running to the tomb, rumors flying around the city, no one knowing what is going on, until the resurrection is revealed. An even bigger turning point in the faith, when Christ goes from martyr to Savior. When every prophecy, every riddle, every cryptic thing he said that people took figuratively, symbolically – came literally to pass. And he returned from death in body and soul.
It's the stories that are central to who we are and what we believe. It's our history as we ourselves are people of the resurrection. I wish we knew every jot and tittle of everyone's story; I really wish we did. But the bigger picture is complete. The story remains true. We worship a God who prays on our behalf. Who treats us with love. Who let himself be betrayed to his own death. And who returns to us from that death; inviting us to join him in the resurrection story, each of us by name. That is the grace and glory of Jesus Christ. Our Lord and our salvation. Amen.
Let us pray.
Holy God, for the precious gift of your Son, Jesus Christ, we give you thanks. We give you thanks for the faithful witness of the gospels; that even after a hundred generations we may still know your Word to us. That the remarkable story of death and new life, of betrayal and resurrection, of which we are all a part, still stirs deeply within us. Lord God, we trust in you, that when our day comes, that you might call us by name into your endless love to be counted among the saints. Gracious god of eternal life and renewal, we pray to you in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.