An excerpt from Jesus Freak by Sara Miles
By Sara Miles
Jesus who is utterly, dirtily human; Jesus who just wades into the water and accepts the divine Spirit coming to dwell in his flesh. As it will, through him, come to dwell in us.
And how do we know this? Come and see, says Jesus, kicking off his public ministry after his baptism. It’s a statement that’s got more than a little dare in it; more than a little edge. This is the Jesus that our rector Paul and I started referring to as ‘‘the Boyfriend.’’ We used it as a colloquial version of the ancient Christian name of ‘‘Bridegroom’’ for Jesus, but it felt more personal—and funny, if a little disturbing, because that’s how Jesus is.
In the Gospel story, Jesus asks two of John’s disciples what they’re looking for, and Andrew politely says, ‘‘Rabbi, where are you staying?’’ Then the Boyfriend says, simply, come and see. In this story we learn what Jesus is like, and how he sees us, and what he’s going to ask of us, the disciples. How our relationship is going to be.
Right away, the Boyfriend makes clear where he’s staying. He is staying with us. On earth. Period. And he’s inviting us to come and see what it means to abide in a human body in the world. The Boyfriend is moving in. So what’s he like? One, he’s promiscuous. Because Jesus is the kind of boyfriend who’ll go with anyone. He picks up John’s disciples. He chats with strangers. He’ll even flirt with two brothers at the same time—he has no shame. Jesus talks to anyone: Jews, Gentiles, women, children, foreigners. He’s soft on them. He touches them. He calls them by name.
Two, the Boyfriend is a bit of a troublemaker. He likes to stir things up. In the conventional order, only members of Aaron’s royal family get anointed to the priesthood in an exclusive temple ritual. But Jesus goes to John, the mad prophet, instead. Jesus wades right in and comes up shining, and then he starts getting everyone else riled up. Okay, ready or not, he says, let’s go: come and see.
Jesus isn’t the kind of boyfriend, in my experience, who’s just going to smile and be agreeable. He’s the thrilling, scary Boyfriend who’s going to dare you to do things you’d never dreamed of, shower you with unreasonable presents, and show up uninvited at the most embarrassing times. Then he’s going to stick with you, refusing to take the hint when you don’t answer his calls.
In the story of Andrew, Jesus is just beginning his love affair with all humankind. That first baptism in the Jordan will lead to baptisms of fire, tears, the cup, and the cross; Jesus will submit and go under it all, falling and coming up, dying and rising, and he will never, ever, let his lovers go.
But to start, Jesus simply looks at us. He sees us, face to face. And what he sees about us—his confused, doubting, selfish followers—is that we, too, are beloved children of God. That we, dumb and dim as Andrew, as Peter, as any crushed-out ninth-grade girl or sulky teenage boy, are part of the Boyfriend’s body: one flesh with him, and with all humankind.
Oh, my dears, says the Boyfriend. This is how it’s going to be from now on. All those other discipleships are over, because I’m here now, for good. This is what our relationship is going to be like: I love you, and you love me and each other. Come and see.
Jesus doesn’t make us obey by claiming the mantle of religious authority or worldly power: he meets us at someone’s ordinary house, at four in the afternoon. He doesn’t ask us to prepare and purify ourselves: he takes us as we are. This Boyfriend is not a big talker. He just invites us, without exception, into experience. It’s a dare, and it’s a promise. Come and see, he says.
Our Boyfriend insists on staying with people. He abides with us in the lowliest places, kisses the most despised sinners, sticks around for the worst messes humans can make. And even when we doubt the love, even when we wreak jealous violence on his other beloveds, even when we try to break up, the Boyfriend is still there. He still wants us to touch him, eat him, become him.
Because the thing about Jesus, the story turns out, is that he believes in us, the people who betray his love, just as he believed in Andrew and poor frightened Peter. Jesus trusts that humans have the power to truly see him ourselves. He believes that our mortal bodies, our experiences here on earth, are enough to bear and hold God. He knows we can find him in our own flesh, and in the flesh of others.
Reprinted by permission of the publisher, John Wiley & Sons, Inc., from Jesus Freak by Sara Miles. Copyright © 2010 by Sara Miles.