"The Works Themselves" (John 14:1-14)

Parables

This morning, I want to try something a little bit different. I want to share a parable and nothing else. No commentary, no explanation. I’m struck by how Jesus seldom nails down the meaning of his teachings. We seem to want to nail things down more than Jesus does… Except when he is inviting the direct action of love—such as forgiving others, blessing our enemies, turning the other cheek, serving the perceived “least” among us—Jesus tends to leave things open-ended. He does not lecture his listeners, he shares stories, which he says are like seeds being planted, things that will grow.

His favorite form of address is the parable, a story that invites the listener’s imagination and interpretation. It is the first word in a conversation, not the last word. There’s a reason we still talk about them today. Their meaning is not nailed down.

Today’s parable is inspired by our scripture. Occasionally I’ve dropped some of the scripture into the parable. Maybe you’ll see the connections that I’ve intended. Maybe you’ll see other connections. In any case, I hope it inspires thought of your own, thought that becomes flesh.

A Parable of the Great Painter

There once was a village where there lived a great painter. He was prolific and generous, often giving his paintings away for free, so that after a while, his paintings came to inhabit every corner of the village. The odd thing about this painter was that he never left a signature on his paintings. He said he wanted the works to speak for themselves. He said the paintings weren’t about him, but about a new world that he had caught a glimpse of and wanted to share. He said, “My works are not about my name or my fame. They are about the way and the truth and the life” (cf. John 14:6).

But even without signatures, his paintings were immediately recognizable to the village people, because they always elicited a trademark reaction. His paintings made the viewer want to dance. Now, not everyone felt compelled to dance the same way. Some people would look at his paintings and want to dance a jig. Others were inspired to waltz. And still others would desire to tango. But regardless of their particular step, everyone who looked at one of the Great Painter’s works shared the same basic response. They could not help but dance.

After three years of painting, and much to the dismay of the village, the Great Painter announced that he would be leaving. He gave various reasons for his departure. One time he told some friends that he had been receiving more and more demands about the precise meaning of his work. But he only wanted people to dance. So, he would leave rather than fuel these pointless debates. Another time, when the towns crier asked him for a formal explanation, he shared simply that he feared the fame that was growing around him. He was afraid that it would get in the way of the work he was trying to accomplish. He did not want a cult of personality to eclipse the works themselves.

So he left the village, and never again did anyone see the Great Painter in their midst. The village mourned his departure. But still, in the presence of his paintings, they danced. For a while, there were no jigs. And the waltzes were slower. And the tangos were filled with nostalgia.

But then something strange and unexpected happened. Fifty days after the Great Painter had departed, mysterious new paintings began to appear in the midst of the village. People speculated that these new paintings were the work of the Great Painter’s devoted followers. Like the originals, these new paintings had no signature. But they all elicited the same trademark feeling. Whoever saw them, felt compelled to dance.

But sadly—and this is the tragic twist in our tale—some people didn’t dance. A great debate erupted among the village people. On one side, people said these new paintings were clearly not the work of the Great Painter, as he no longer lived among them. Therefore, they shouldn’t dance before these new paintings. But on the other side, people said that the Great Painter never signed his work anyway. The “signature” was the dance that the work inspired. They remembered how one time the Great Painter had shared that his paintings were not his own vision, but a glimpse he’d been given by someone he called his Father. “The [paintings] that I [paint for] you I do not [paint] on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and Father is in me; but if you do not, believe me because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these” (John 14:11-12). What mattered to the Great Painter, they said, was not his own recognition but the inspiration of others. He wanted to share the Spirit that was in him. These new paintings, they said, were not forgeries. They were authentic. Because they made people want to dance. And so these people continued to dance and were inspired to make more paintings themselves.

And to this day, there continues to appear in that little village new paintings that bear no signature other than this—they make people dance.

Prayer

Creative God,
Whose masterpiece of love
We see so clearly in the works of Jesus—
Sometimes we get stuck
On names, beliefs, rules,
And other signatures,
And we miss out on the way, truth, and life
…
Give us eyes to see not just the name of Jesus
But the beautiful Spirit inspiring his works.
May it inspire us, likewise, to dance.
In Christ, the way, the truth, and the life: Amen.