Sermon: Lost In Translation

John 1:1-18

We've probably all heard the phrase "lost in translation." Taken literally, "lost in translation" is a phrase referring to cultural references that lose their significance during translation from one language to another. That's one reason Presbyterian seminarians are required to study the scriptures in their original languages. But the phrase also applies more broadly whenever something essential is left out, overlooked or misunderstood. In recent years, that phrase has appeared as the title of a novel, a memoir, a poem and a movie. Well, this phrase - lost in translation - comes to mind with regard to our scripture reading this morning. The prologue of John's Gospel is one of the most familiar passages in the Bible. Yet time and again an essential feature of the prologue tends to be overlooked, lost in translation.

It's not that we overlook John's poetic style. It's clear to us that, while Matthew and Luke begin their gospels with straightforward storytelling, John's beginning is more poetry than prose. He uses highly charged metaphors and symbols to convey the cosmic significance of Jesus' birth. We don't have to be literary geniuses to appreciate how John's prologue soars with lofty, poetic language.

And we get the fact that John's prologue introduces many of the themes that he will develop in the rest of the Gospel. The prologue gives us an outline of what will follow. Words that are so prominent in the prologue - words such as "light and darkness," "life," "glory" and "truth" will recur later. Also, Jesus' earthly ministry - his rejection, suffering, and death - are anticipated in these initial verses by the testimony of John the Baptist and the advance notice that the world will reject its own true light. So the fact that the prologue gives us a rough outline for John's ensuring Gospel is not lost on us.

Neither are we totally oblivious to the way John introduces his Gospel with themes from the Bible and Greek philosophy. His very first words - "In the beginning" - echo the creation story in Genesis. John dips into the Wisdom writings in scripture by speaking of the Word as the personification of God's Wisdom. In addition, when John speaks of "the Word," - or 'logos,' in Greek - he's tapping into a concept that was widely employed in Greek philosophy. This is why the early church father, John Chrysostom, declared that John's prologue explores terrain that "the disciples of Plato and Pythagoras also inquired into." We may not fully understand all the biblical and philosophical imagery John employs in his prologue, but we accept how he waves together some key biblical themes with concepts that were popular in the philosophies of that day.

Furthermore, it's no mystery to us that Jesus is the focus of John's prologue. John leaves no doubt that the world's true light has come into the world, and he lets us know who that light is. John makes the stupendous claim that everything God intended for creation, everything that human beings should be has come to life in the person of Jesus Christ. According to John, the knowledge of God is beyond the realm of human perception. Only one who comes from God, who knows the heart of God can make God known. And Jesus, John declares, is that one. Everyone who reads the prologue is struck by the unique and eternal significance given to Jesus. He reveals to us the glory of God, the purpose of God, and especially the love of God. Even a cursory reading will make clear that John is proclaiming Jesus Christ as the world's true light that enlightens everyone.

What then is often missed when we read John's prologue? What tends to get lost in translation? In a word - we do. We tend to lose our place in the story of God's incarnation in Jesus Christ. At Christmas we enjoy hearing about the parts played by the shepherds, Mary and Joseph, the Magi and so on. We joyfully proclaim the birth of Christ and the hope that has come into the world through him. Yet in our telling of the Christmas story, very often the role assigned to us gets lost in translation. Listen again to what John says. "To all who receive him, who believe in his name, he gives power to become children of God." Isn't that the piece of the Christmas story we so often overlook? We don't take into account John's assertion that Jesus is not alone in this word-made-flesh business. No, Jesus came to summon disciples, who will join with him in making real God's healing and saving purpose.

To be honest, the crisis within Christianity today is that all too often the love, compassion, hospitality, and peace that were incarnate in Jesus aren't seen in his followers. God's intention for humankind, so clearly seen in Jesus, is often lost as it is conveyed - translated - through the lives of those who claim to be his followers.

So before the Christmas season slips into the past, let's recover our role. As children of God, we are empowered to put flesh on the words we speak. Only when we act on them do our words become flesh. It's one thing to talk about hospitality, but hospitality is just a word until a congregation makes it real by speaking to strangers in a way that makes them feel welcomed and at home. Service is an abstract concept until it puts on skin and shows up in a hospital room, a prison cell or a neighbor's doorstep. Justice is nothing more than a lofty ideal until it becomes flesh in those who speak out for, and work on behalf of, the oppressed.

The theologian, educator and civil rights leader Howard Thurman makes this point in what he calls the work of Christmas. He writes: "When the song of the angels is stilled, when the star in the sky is gone, when the kings and princes are home, when the shepherds are back with their flocks, the work of Christ begins - to find the lost, to heal the broken, to feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations, to bring peace among others, to make music in the heart."

So friends, to summarize: When we read John's prologue, we appreciate the beauty of his poetic style. We admire the way he uses the prologue as an introduction to his entire gospel. We understand his effort to use language and concepts familiar to his Hellenistic audience. And we are edified by his portrayal of Jesus as the world's true light. But before we close the book on Christmas, let's not allow our part in the story to get lost in translation. The Word became flesh so that we might become children of God through whom the love and justice of God is made known.

May the grace and truth of God become flesh in each one of us today and throughout this New Year.

-San Williams, Senior Pastor at UPC