“Who Do They Remind
You of?”
My family has a habit of asking a very particular question whenever one of us meets someone new. “Who do they remind you of?” It’s an illuminating exercise. Occasionally, when I make comparisons between the new person and others whom I know, I will find a near-perfect match in personality. They don’t necessarily look anything alike, but their mannerisms and their way of speaking and other intangible qualities seem almost perfectly aligned.
For example, I once met someone who had this extraordinarily disarming smile, a patient demeanor, and a gentle cadence in his speech. (He happened to wear a sweater-vest too…and would have made a great neighbor.) Maybe you can guess who I was reminded of—that’s right, Mister Rogers!
On more than one occasion, I’ve met folks who have reminded me of my Aunt Patti, who has traveled all over the world and loves to recount her adventures…over and over again.
What about you? Have you ever met someone and their personality reminds you of someone else?
Reminded of Christ
It has always struck me as strange that the disciples often do not recognize the risen Jesus when they first see him. Mary Magdalene thinks she’s talking to a gardener (John 20:11-18). Cleopas and his companion on the road to Emmaus think they’re walking with an ignorant stranger, who doesn’t even know what’s just happened in Jerusalem (Luke 24:13-35). Peter and several other disciples are fishing and probably think that it’s a fellow fisherman giving them advice when he says to cast their net on the other side of the boat (John 21:1-14).
How is it that Jesus’ closest companions do not recognize him? Does Jesus look different? Or is their grief so great that they cannot see clearly? Or is it because they saw him die and simply cannot fathom that he would be alive again?
The short answer is we don’t know. We don’t know why Jesus’ companions don’t recognize him. The gospels give no explanation. So maybe it’s not important. Maybe it’s not the right question to ask.
Maybe a more fruitful question would be the opposite. How is it that Jesus’ closest companions do recognize him? What is it that suddenly opens their eyes to see Christ before them? For Mary, it is the profound intimacy of hearing her name spoken. Where has she heard her name said like that before? For Cleopas and his fellow traveler, it is the enthusiastic interpretation of scripture and the breaking of bread. Who was it that loved to tell stories and loved to gather around the table? And for Peter and the fishermen at sea, it is the sudden abundance of fish. Remember what happened by this same body of water with the fish and loaves?
“Who do they remind you of?”
I guess what I’m realizing is that Jesus’ closest companions do not recognize him because of his physical features. They recognize him because they are reminded of him by the distinctive traits and character of the stranger before them. It can only be Christ.
Looking with the
Heart
Today’s scripture comes from Jesus’ final dinner with his disciples. He has already washed their feet and given them the new commandment, to love others as he has loved them. In other words, he has entrusted them with his work. And now he offers them comfort and reassurance, insisting that even when he is gone in body, he will be with them in Spirit. “I will not leave you orphaned,” he says; “I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me” (John 14:18).
This prognosis grabs my attention. “The world will no longer see me, but you will see me.” It sounds familiar. It sounds like what happens immediately after the resurrection. Even Jesus’ closest followers do not see Jesus as first. Only when they are reminded of Jesus by something deeper than the skin—only when their hearts begin to burn (cf. Luke 24:32)—do they see him.
It is as though Jesus is saying, “‘The world will no longer see me’ because they look with their eyes, ‘but you will see me’ because you look with your heart.”
All over the Place
The risen Christ is all over the place. Even in the gospels before he has ascended. If we try to map out his various appearances according to the timeline given, then he is almost simultaneously miles outside of Jerusalem on the road to Emmaus, and inside Jerusalem at a table inside in a locked room, and all the way up in Galilee on a mountain and by the sea. The risen Christ is all over the place. And almost everywhere he appears, his closest followers do not see him at first.
It is almost like the gospels are shouting at us, his followers today, “The risen Christ is all over the place! You don’t see him? Keep looking! Look with your heart!”
Jesus seems to give us the same advice in today’s scripture. He gives us one very helpful tip for recognizing him, for he says that he will reveal himself to those who love him and live in his way of love (cf. John 14:21). In other words, it is easier to see in the world what is already inside our heart. It is easier to be reminded of something, when we know it well. Have you ever noticed that, for people who are always bitter and complaining inside their heart, the world is always filled with jerks and enemies? Likewise, for people who are always looking for redemption, the world is filled with fundamentally good people who sometimes find themselves in tragic circumstances. The world that we see outside of us, is a mirror of our heart. The psalmist captures this when he says of God, “With the pure you show yourself pure; and with the crooked you show yourself perverse” (Ps 18:25-26).
One really simple way that I have found to welcome Jesus into my heart, so that I might be more easily reminded of him, is to keep a few Jesus stories from the gospels close and at hand, to help interpret my experience and the world around me. I really like the story of the Gerasene demoniac, torn in a thousand different directions by his desires (represented in the ancient world as demons), who encounters Jesus and at the end of the story is found “sitting” with Jesus and “in his right mind,” the gospel says—as though to say that, when torn in a thousand different directions, maybe the way of Jesus is just sitting. I like the story of the prodigal son, whose selfishness leads him away from home to the far country of shame and brokenness, but whose father welcomes him home with joy and celebration, as though to say nothing can separate us from God’s love. When these stories and others like them are alive in my heart, I am more easily reminded of Christ, and it is easier for me to see the risen Christ all over the world.
It is true: I have no idea what Jesus looks like physically. But that doesn’t matter.
Prayer
Who does not leave us orphaned
But abides with us—
At times we are short-sighted,
Seeing only the surface
And making judgments
That leave no room for you
…
Yet you are all over the place.
May we be reminded of you
In the love that haunts our world,
In which we live and move and have our being.
Amen.
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