John 1:35-51
“I’ve been meaning to ask…Where are you from?”
Preached Sunday, January 19, 2025
Today we are starting a four week sermon series that will carry us most of the way to Lent…The sermon series is called, “I’ve been meaning to ask…”
A Sanctified Art, the creative team behind this sermon series, said this about the concept of “I’ve been meaning to ask…”:
“In creating this series, we started by asking ourselves questions: ‘How can we listen to one another? How do we find connection[...]? How do we create space for compassionate dialogue and for seeking the holy in one another?’
While the challenges of becoming beloved community to one another are endless, these questions are simple. We quickly recognized that all courageous conversations begin with simple questions and the curiosity to truly listen. …The main objective of this series [is]: to cultivate courageous conversations—and to keep having them…these questions aren’t surface level; they invite us to share our pain and seek ways to care for one another.”
And so I have chosen to preach these questions over the next couple of weeks, hopefully igniting curiosity, conversation, and community amongst those here at Boardman United Methodist Church, and beyond.
We will ask of ourselves and one another: Where are you from? Where does it hurt? What do you need? And where do we go from here?
And so we will start today with: I’ve been meaning to ask…where are you from?
When we ask “where you are from” with honest curiosity and openness - I believe we are not really asking about the place of one’s birth or where someone grew up. We are asking, “What is your story?” We are saying “Tell me who you are.” And, when truly seeking connection, “Where do our stories overlap?”
We may not realize that when we ask someone the question, “Where are you from?” we can really be asking a deeply personal question and so it should always be asked with openness. And when we ask the question - we should always be prepared to be asked it in return. To be met with mutual curiosity.
When we shape our own identities, our own stories, our own answers to “where are you from” we may talk about places - not only the places we lived but the places we loved, the places that hold special spots in our hearts because we were loved in those places and loved well. When we answer the question, “where are you from…” - we may talk about our names. Maybe you are from a family and your name tells the story of that lineage. Or your last name has a history, country, or language attached to it. Maybe your name is a chosen name or nickname that reveals how you see yourself. When answering the question, “where are you from” - we may be sharing things we celebrate about ourselves. We may also be sharing stories of trauma - and hopefully - triumph as well.
When I consider this answer myself - I could easily just say Canfield, Ohio. Born at St. Elizabeth’s in Youngstown. The short answer and that could be the end of our interaction. But if I knew you were asking with a desire to get to know me better, asking with respect and curiosity, I might tell you about my name and the Grandmas it came from. I might tell you that people say they see my great-grandmother in me and she was an amazing woman. I might tell you about the faith communities I was a part of and especially about Camp Asbury. I might tell you all these things that get more to the core of who I am and how I shape and tell my own story of where I am from.
The Rev. Sarah Are says it like this in her poem “We Are Not Strangers”:
“If you ask me where I’m from,
I’ll tell you about the South—
about sweet tea, church pews,
slow drawls, sultry summers.
And if you pause,
then I may go on to tell you
how I’m from a family of preachers,
how I stand on the shoulders of generations
who believed that love could be the answer.
And if you’re still listening even then,
I’ll tell you that I’m from strong women
with tall spines who have carried the weight
of inequality on their backs with children on
their laps.
And then I’ll tell you about
the kitchens that I’m from,
which have always cooked enough
food for unexpected guests—just in case.
Or I could tell you about the car
that carried us into the mountains,
summer after summer
so that we could breathe again.
That’s part of where I’m from.
And if you haven’t given up yet,
then I may even mention the dirt—
the earth that catches me,
the earth that holds me.
The earth that reminds me of growth.
The earth that will eventually welcome me home.
You and I aren’t really strangers after all.”
Now, I need to pause here and give a caveat, or a warning, if you will. The question, “Where are you from?” is also a loaded question and a complex one for many people - especially for people with trauma in their family of origin or for many immigrants and people of color. Often people of color will say that someone will ask them, “where are you from?” and if they say something like “Youngstown, Ohio” the asker will press further and say, “No, where are you REALLY from?” Which implies “othering” the person who is being asked the question, it implies that the asker knows their story more than they do, it implies that the asker already has a preconceived notion of what the answer should be and is not asking from a genuine place of respect and curiosity. Asking “where are you from?” in this way has been labeled a microaggression, an act of racism.
Indeed, “where are you from?” can often be a question loaded with assumptions and biases. We see some of this in today’s Gospel lesson.
“The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by he exclaimed, ‘Look, here is the Lamb of God!’ The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, ‘What are you looking for?’ They said to him, ‘Rabbi’ (which translated means Teacher), ‘where are you staying?’ He said to them, ‘Come and see.’”
This initial reaction is steeped with open and mutual curiosity. Dr. Raj Nadella, Professor of New Testament at Columbia Theological Seminary, says this about this interaction:
“Curiosity runs rampant in this story and Jesus is the primary focus of such curiosity. John had already known Jesus as the Lamb of God and invited his disciples to meet him. The two disciples who follow Jesus apparently want to know where he is staying, but they ask questions only after he gives them permission. They are respectful of his space and enter it only at his invitation. It is the kind of healthy curiosity that is eager to engage others but is unintrusive. But the disciples call Jesus a Rabbi, a term that does not capture his true identity in John. Instead of answering their question (where are you staying?), Jesus says, ‘Come and you will see.’ The Greek word for seeing in this context…literally means “know, perceive, understand.” Jesus seems to suggest that the disciples called him Rabbi because they did not fully perceive him. He invites them to his place so that they can perceive him. Jesus is inviting them to a deeper level of curiosity, one that entails a willingness to learn as well as unlearn prior assumptions. Such curiosity transcends superficial knowledge and requires greater investment of one’s time and resources. The disciples spent the day with him and called him Messiah.”
The Gospel continues: “Philip found Nathanael and said to him, ‘We have found him about whom Moses in the Law and also the Prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.’ Nathanael said to him, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ Philip said to him, ‘Come and see.’”
Nathanael definitely has some assumptions about Nazareth and thus about Jesus. People from Boardman and Youngstown can relate to that. Can anything good come out of the Rust Belt? Can anything good come from that backwater place? Can anything good come from there? Everyone has assumptions and preconceived ideas of certain places and what the people from there are like. That's exacerbated for people of color, immigrants, and those who don’t fit into the narrowly defined status quo. We need to let go of assumptions and biases and let curiosity take control - otherwise we do harm and miss out on what could be life-changing connections.
If Nathanael had been left with only his assumptions and biases he would have missed out. Missed out on being one of the twelve disciples. Missed out on really getting to know Jesus. Missed out on the biggest and best and most transforming thing that would ever happen to him - or to any of us.
Instead, Phillip offers him an invitation to curiosity, “Come and see.” Now, Jesus had already put some effort into finding out about Nathanael for as he approaches Jesus, Jesus says, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” To which Nathaneal replies, “Where did you get to know me?” We’ve moved from assumption to curiosity, it means that Jesus, despite Nathaneal’s initial negative assumptions about him, Jesus is ready to see the good in Nathaneal, sparking further curiosity and the start of a mutual relationship with one another.
How can we answer the invitation to “come and see” in one another and within our communities? How can we place our assumptions and biases aside and meet each other in places of mutual curiosity? How can we open up our hearts and ears so in the mutual sharing we may discover, as The Rev. Are says in her poem, “You and I aren’t really strangers after all.”
For when we really get down to it, when we really start sharing, and listening, and learning, and forming connections - what we learn is that we all have more in common than previously thought. We are all human. At our cores we all want to be seen for who we are. We all want to be loved.
And at our cores, we were all made in the image of God, the God who got down in the dirt and formed us with God’s hands, who breathed into us the breath of life, who loves each of us as we are, who calls us beloved, who celebrates in our unique stories and identities. Who invites us “to come and see.”
“Come and see” the goodness and belovedness in each and every person made by God. “Come and see” the connections that can be made in a respectful, loving community. “Come and see” the God who binds us all together in our shared identities.
So…I’ve been meaning to ask….where are you from?
“Come and see.” Amen.
“In creating this series, we started by asking ourselves questions: ‘How can we listen to one another? How do we find connection[...]? How do we create space for compassionate dialogue and for seeking the holy in one another?’
While the challenges of becoming beloved community to one another are endless, these questions are simple. We quickly recognized that all courageous conversations begin with simple questions and the curiosity to truly listen. …The main objective of this series [is]: to cultivate courageous conversations—and to keep having them…these questions aren’t surface level; they invite us to share our pain and seek ways to care for one another.”
And so I have chosen to preach these questions over the next couple of weeks, hopefully igniting curiosity, conversation, and community amongst those here at Boardman United Methodist Church, and beyond.
We will ask of ourselves and one another: Where are you from? Where does it hurt? What do you need? And where do we go from here?
And so we will start today with: I’ve been meaning to ask…where are you from?
When we ask “where you are from” with honest curiosity and openness - I believe we are not really asking about the place of one’s birth or where someone grew up. We are asking, “What is your story?” We are saying “Tell me who you are.” And, when truly seeking connection, “Where do our stories overlap?”
We may not realize that when we ask someone the question, “Where are you from?” we can really be asking a deeply personal question and so it should always be asked with openness. And when we ask the question - we should always be prepared to be asked it in return. To be met with mutual curiosity.
When we shape our own identities, our own stories, our own answers to “where are you from” we may talk about places - not only the places we lived but the places we loved, the places that hold special spots in our hearts because we were loved in those places and loved well. When we answer the question, “where are you from…” - we may talk about our names. Maybe you are from a family and your name tells the story of that lineage. Or your last name has a history, country, or language attached to it. Maybe your name is a chosen name or nickname that reveals how you see yourself. When answering the question, “where are you from” - we may be sharing things we celebrate about ourselves. We may also be sharing stories of trauma - and hopefully - triumph as well.
When I consider this answer myself - I could easily just say Canfield, Ohio. Born at St. Elizabeth’s in Youngstown. The short answer and that could be the end of our interaction. But if I knew you were asking with a desire to get to know me better, asking with respect and curiosity, I might tell you about my name and the Grandmas it came from. I might tell you that people say they see my great-grandmother in me and she was an amazing woman. I might tell you about the faith communities I was a part of and especially about Camp Asbury. I might tell you all these things that get more to the core of who I am and how I shape and tell my own story of where I am from.
The Rev. Sarah Are says it like this in her poem “We Are Not Strangers”:
“If you ask me where I’m from,
I’ll tell you about the South—
about sweet tea, church pews,
slow drawls, sultry summers.
And if you pause,
then I may go on to tell you
how I’m from a family of preachers,
how I stand on the shoulders of generations
who believed that love could be the answer.
And if you’re still listening even then,
I’ll tell you that I’m from strong women
with tall spines who have carried the weight
of inequality on their backs with children on
their laps.
And then I’ll tell you about
the kitchens that I’m from,
which have always cooked enough
food for unexpected guests—just in case.
Or I could tell you about the car
that carried us into the mountains,
summer after summer
so that we could breathe again.
That’s part of where I’m from.
And if you haven’t given up yet,
then I may even mention the dirt—
the earth that catches me,
the earth that holds me.
The earth that reminds me of growth.
The earth that will eventually welcome me home.
You and I aren’t really strangers after all.”
Now, I need to pause here and give a caveat, or a warning, if you will. The question, “Where are you from?” is also a loaded question and a complex one for many people - especially for people with trauma in their family of origin or for many immigrants and people of color. Often people of color will say that someone will ask them, “where are you from?” and if they say something like “Youngstown, Ohio” the asker will press further and say, “No, where are you REALLY from?” Which implies “othering” the person who is being asked the question, it implies that the asker knows their story more than they do, it implies that the asker already has a preconceived notion of what the answer should be and is not asking from a genuine place of respect and curiosity. Asking “where are you from?” in this way has been labeled a microaggression, an act of racism.
Indeed, “where are you from?” can often be a question loaded with assumptions and biases. We see some of this in today’s Gospel lesson.
“The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by he exclaimed, ‘Look, here is the Lamb of God!’ The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, ‘What are you looking for?’ They said to him, ‘Rabbi’ (which translated means Teacher), ‘where are you staying?’ He said to them, ‘Come and see.’”
This initial reaction is steeped with open and mutual curiosity. Dr. Raj Nadella, Professor of New Testament at Columbia Theological Seminary, says this about this interaction:
“Curiosity runs rampant in this story and Jesus is the primary focus of such curiosity. John had already known Jesus as the Lamb of God and invited his disciples to meet him. The two disciples who follow Jesus apparently want to know where he is staying, but they ask questions only after he gives them permission. They are respectful of his space and enter it only at his invitation. It is the kind of healthy curiosity that is eager to engage others but is unintrusive. But the disciples call Jesus a Rabbi, a term that does not capture his true identity in John. Instead of answering their question (where are you staying?), Jesus says, ‘Come and you will see.’ The Greek word for seeing in this context…literally means “know, perceive, understand.” Jesus seems to suggest that the disciples called him Rabbi because they did not fully perceive him. He invites them to his place so that they can perceive him. Jesus is inviting them to a deeper level of curiosity, one that entails a willingness to learn as well as unlearn prior assumptions. Such curiosity transcends superficial knowledge and requires greater investment of one’s time and resources. The disciples spent the day with him and called him Messiah.”
The Gospel continues: “Philip found Nathanael and said to him, ‘We have found him about whom Moses in the Law and also the Prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.’ Nathanael said to him, ‘Can anything good come out of Nazareth?’ Philip said to him, ‘Come and see.’”
Nathanael definitely has some assumptions about Nazareth and thus about Jesus. People from Boardman and Youngstown can relate to that. Can anything good come out of the Rust Belt? Can anything good come from that backwater place? Can anything good come from there? Everyone has assumptions and preconceived ideas of certain places and what the people from there are like. That's exacerbated for people of color, immigrants, and those who don’t fit into the narrowly defined status quo. We need to let go of assumptions and biases and let curiosity take control - otherwise we do harm and miss out on what could be life-changing connections.
If Nathanael had been left with only his assumptions and biases he would have missed out. Missed out on being one of the twelve disciples. Missed out on really getting to know Jesus. Missed out on the biggest and best and most transforming thing that would ever happen to him - or to any of us.
Instead, Phillip offers him an invitation to curiosity, “Come and see.” Now, Jesus had already put some effort into finding out about Nathanael for as he approaches Jesus, Jesus says, “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit!” To which Nathaneal replies, “Where did you get to know me?” We’ve moved from assumption to curiosity, it means that Jesus, despite Nathaneal’s initial negative assumptions about him, Jesus is ready to see the good in Nathaneal, sparking further curiosity and the start of a mutual relationship with one another.
How can we answer the invitation to “come and see” in one another and within our communities? How can we place our assumptions and biases aside and meet each other in places of mutual curiosity? How can we open up our hearts and ears so in the mutual sharing we may discover, as The Rev. Are says in her poem, “You and I aren’t really strangers after all.”
For when we really get down to it, when we really start sharing, and listening, and learning, and forming connections - what we learn is that we all have more in common than previously thought. We are all human. At our cores we all want to be seen for who we are. We all want to be loved.
And at our cores, we were all made in the image of God, the God who got down in the dirt and formed us with God’s hands, who breathed into us the breath of life, who loves each of us as we are, who calls us beloved, who celebrates in our unique stories and identities. Who invites us “to come and see.”
“Come and see” the goodness and belovedness in each and every person made by God. “Come and see” the connections that can be made in a respectful, loving community. “Come and see” the God who binds us all together in our shared identities.
So…I’ve been meaning to ask….where are you from?
“Come and see.” Amen.
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