Quite honestly, my hopes for a brighter tomorrow had dimmed with the increased presence of soldiers in our region. Rumors of military conflict abounded, all in the name of providing a secure future and prosperity, we were told by the authorities. But I had lost confidence in our leaders, and I began to wonder if God cared any more about people, about this world. The scriptures seem to say that God does care, that the earth is the Lord's and all that is in it. But it seemed like most people had put off any notion or idea that God truly cared about the world.

That morning of which I speak, I had just read the story about the boy Samuel, when he lived in the temple: "The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread." I remember thinking how true that seemed for our times. One didn't hear much about God speaking to prophets anymore; no one, no prophet claimed he had a vision, or had seen the Lord speaking to him.

But that was about to change. That morning, Philip found me in my usual place, a shady spot perfect for reading and thinking. Philip's a fine young man; a little excitable, but really a decent fellow. Well he comes running up to me with this huge grin, "We've found him! We've found him! we've found him," he says.

I had no idea "who" he was talking about, the "him" that he and apparently someone else had found. I guess the look on my face told him I had no idea what he was talking about, or whom for that matter; so he sat down beside me, and motioned to the scrolls that I had with me. "We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote."

Now that got my attention; and Philip knew that would get my attention, because he knew that I had an interest in these matters, in the things that one reads about in scripture. I looked at him as if to say, "Well?" and he said "It's Jesus, son of Joseph, from Nazareth."

For a moment there, he had my interest, but then he said it: Nazareth. Please, don't try to tell me that the Messiah, the son of God, is going to come to us from Nazareth, the land of the unwise, uneducated, and uncouth. The people in Nazareth are so out of the mainstream of thought and culture that the Romans built a garrison there just to keep the peace and as a reminder to all that there is a law that must be upheld. They are backward and untrustworthy; surely he must be kidding, I thought to myself. "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?" I asked him. Philip replied, "Come and see."

Well, I wasn't about to miss out on this, as meeting this fellow was guaranteed to be one of the best laughs I was going to have in a long time. Poor Philip, taken in by some slick talking hick from the sticks; after the laughter died down, I could see that I would have to sit him down and explain to him what to actually look for in trying to identify a true man of God. Not that such a one was coming in our lifetime.

I had hoped for that once; I had felt that surely God's chosen one was coming to once again deliver us from captivity and set us free, in our own land. But that deliverance never came. I came to believe that it wasn't going to happen as I had hoped; who knows the mind of God, and how God might work to save his people? Finding the falsehood in this fellow was going to be easy; trying to rebuild Philip's faith was going to take more work. Or so I thought.

I followed Philip through the crowds of the town to a little side street that led to a small area of trees and grass, and there in the middle of a small group of people sat this man. He wasn't anything like I expected-a raving person who spoke in mystical phrases that sounded more meaningful than the actually were; a charismatic person whose sheer will, charm and personality can somehow bend people's own will toward his-people can be so gullible sometimes, especially young, impressionable persons like my dear Philip.

But this man was no soothsaying, mesmerizer. This man looked wise beyond his years, and had the most gentle, trusting face I have ever seen. Something about him seemed familiar to me. He gave one the impression that he knew who you were, even before he ever met you.

Now, this is also one of the tricks that charlatans can use to convince people into doing their bidding-but, again, I did not get that sense from this man, that he acted anything like a slick talking hick from the sticks. Quite the opposite; he struck me as completely genuine, and honest.

As we approached to sit down, he looked up at us, greeted Philip, whom he obviously knew, and then he looked at me. He had sort of this half-smile as his eyes took me in, and assessed me. I felt like in some strange way that he was reading me, reading my life, like a scroll unrolled before him. I have never felt that way in the presence of anyone in my life. It seemed like minutes passed before he said anything-but I'm sure it was only a moment; and he said to me, "Now here's a true Israelite; someone who tells it like it really is."

Not wanting to act too impressed or intrigued, I remembered thinking, "If you only knew what it was I just said about Nazareth, would you still say that?" Keeping that thought to myself, I smiled, sat down and said, "Really? Where did you get that idea? You don't know me." Then he looked at me; he said, "Oh? I do know you, Nathanael; I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you."

Now when Philip came to me that morning, he found me in my usual place where I daily sit and faithfully study the scriptures and say my prayers. My place of study was located quite away from where this teacher sat; it is a place where some fig trees have grown up near the town square, not on anyone's farm or orchard. It is a quiet place to sit and reflect amid the business and busyness of life.

Philip had taken me directly to him. It would have been impossible for this teacher to see us conversing from where he sat, or for him to have seen us on his way to his place, because Philip had come directly to me from him, and we returned straightway to see him. How did he see Philip calling me to "Come and see"? Was it a miracle? A trick of some sort? What of man is this? I thought.

And suddenly, in a moment of recall, it all came back to me. The whole scene passed before my eyes again. Many months ago I was listening to one of the local rabbis expound the scriptures one afternoon down by the square, seated under a big fig tree there-it's the place where I now sit.

This one rabbi would hold court, answering our questions and weighing our responses, while passersby would gather round and listen to the debate. This day a few students kept on asking the rabbi questions, and back and forth the rabbi would argue with them. I remember making some comment, but Rabbi did not agree with my assessment.

Just then, one of the bystanders gathered around us answered the rabbi, building off of something I had said. His answer was eloquent, and well reasoned. He spoke from an inner wisdom that gave all of us-even our rabbi-the impression that he knew the inner meaning of the text better than anyone else we had ever encountered. When he finished, he looked at me, and nodded, as if to say, "I liked what you said," and he walked away. We sat there, marveling at the power of his words and the wisdom of his point.

Now, sitting in front of me, here was that man again. Only this time he wasn't some stranger listening in on a lesson between a rabbi and his students; here he was the man that Philip described as "the one that Moses and the prophets wrote about." This man who called me a true Israelite, who tells it like it really is: Jesus, son of Joseph--from Nazareth, of all places. Something deep inside me confirmed the truth of Philip's belief, and from that place deep within I heard myself say, "Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the King of Israel." Looking at me, he said, "You believe because I said I saw you beneath the fig tree? You haven't seen anything yet."

Of course, he was right about that. I had only begun to see how encountering Jesus changes people. I had lost all hope that God would act in my time, in my life-encountering Jesus changed all that. It always does. In the months and years that followed I learned that through encountering Jesus we experience the love of God for us, the hope of God for us; by him God dwells in us, and works in the world through us. Like he did with me, I have learned that Jesus sees all of us wherever we are, he already knows us, and he recognizes the good in us. Encountering Jesus changed my life; and Jesus of Nazareth, the Crucified and Risen One, still changes the lives of those who meet him and get to know him, wherever and whenever that might take place.

Looking back on it now, with you, I really I have Philip to thank for this; after all, he invited me to come and see. At the time, it seemed like a harmless request; it doesn't take much to merely invite someone to encounter Jesus. It's a simple thing, really: "Come and see." All that is needed is for us to invite someone to come and see for himself, for herself. From that point, Jesus has a way of doing the rest. For whenever and wherever we encounter Jesus, Jesus still changes lives, still restores hope, still renews dreams, and still heals the brokenhearted and those who have no health in them.

To encounter Jesus is to encounter Life as God meant it to be, and that new life can begin for others with a simple, "Come and see" from you and me.

The Rev'd Timothy M. Dombek
ST. JAMES EPISCOPAL CHURCH
301 Piney Mountain Road
Greenville, SC 29609-3035
(864) 244-6358
timothy@stjamesgreenville.org

Copyright © 2003 Timothy M. Dombek All Rights Reserved.