Jesus in Wood and Stone
July 14, 2013
Today we’re continuing to look at a testimony to Jesus that did not make it into the Bible,
the Gospel of Thomas. Last week we talked about the surprising discovery of this gospel inside
an urn dug up in Egypt in 1945, and we got a little taste of what’s in this document. We said that
the Gospel of Thomas is a kind of dialogue with how Jesus is presented in the canonical
scriptures, the Bible we know today. And so today I want us to look at one of the principal
themes of Thomas, and we’ll see that some of the Gospel writers resonate with Thomas’ idea,
and some argue against it.
First, let’s read Saying 77 from the Gospel of Thomas, because it provides the title for
today’s message. It goes like this: “Jesus said, ‘It is I who am the light which is above them all. It
is I who am the all. From me did the all come forth, and unto me did the all extend. Split a piece
of wood, and I am there. Lift up the stone, and you will find me there.”
That’s kind of poetic, isn’t it? Does any part of that ring a bell? Maybe the part where
Jesus says, “From me did the all come forth, and unto me did the all extend”?
For me that recalls the opening of the Gospel of John, words we hear every Christmas:
“In the beginning was the Word (that is, Christ), and the Word was with God, and the Word was
God. … All things came into being through him. … What has come into being in him was life,
and the life was the light of all people.” So in both of these passages, from Thomas and from
John, there is this image of Christ as light and Christ as present at the dawn of creation. Paul says
pretty much the same thing in 1 Corinthians and in Colossians; the writer of the Book of
Hebrews says Jesus is “the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being,”
one “through whom he also created the world.” So this idea of the Christ Spirit being present at
the creation runs throughout the scriptures.
(By the way, this explains one of the enduring mysteries of television, which is, if the
Flintstones lived before Jesus was born, why did they celebrate Christmas? Obviously Fred and
Wilma were worshipping the Christ who was present at the creation of the world.)
But that seems like long ago and far away, doesn’t it? If we look at Jesus as a continuum
of human and divine – the holiest human being, the most human God – the Jesus we find in the
Gospel of John is all the way up on the holy end. He talks about himself in John more than in the
other Gospels, for example: “I am the good shepherd”; “I am the vine, you are the branches.”
He’s presented as being in complete control, even as he allowed himself to be crucified. That’s
the Light of the World Jesus in John.
Thomas uses the same metaphor but in a different way. “There is light within a man of
light, and he lights up the whole world,” Jesus says in Saying 24. And he’s not talking only about
himself – he’s talking about all of us, you and me. The Jesus of Thomas doesn’t call himself
Savior; he doesn’t claim that he is unique in the world. Instead, he sees himself as a sign, an
example of what is possible for all human beings when we recognize the light of God already
aglow inside each of us.
This idea is the spiritual equivalent of nuclear fission: It makes available a new level of
sacred power. If this light is inside each of us, it puts us in a place where we don’t have to
depend on ministers or scripture to help us find our way to God. The light of God is always
present with us, this Jesus says, and our very lives shine forth God’s glory.
Now, when I hear this I feel like I’m going to need another cup of coffee, or ain’t nothing
going to shine today. But that’s what the Jesus of the Gospel of Thomas says: that God’s glory is
ever-present, not only in human beings but in the natural world. “Split a piece of wood,” Jesus
says, “and I am there. Lift up the stone, and you will find me there.”
One of the tricky things about working with scripture is that the Bible sometimes
disagrees with itself, or rather, changes emphasis from one book to the next. That happens when
the scriptures talk about the Kingdom of God. Mostly there’s this idea that at some amazing time
in the future, “every knee shall bow before God and every tongue shall give praise to God.”
That’s how Paul puts it in Romans. It’s a future orientation, an expression of hope that even if
the world seems like it’s going to hell, heaven on earth is just around the corner.
Mostly this is expressed in the idea that Christ will return to earth and set things right,
accompanied by much wailing and gnashing of teeth. In Matthew, for example, Jesus warns
against false prophets and says, “For as the lightning comes from the east and flashes as far as
the west, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. …When the Son of Man comes in his glory,
and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory.” This apocalyptic vision
finds its fullest description in the lurid prophecies of the Book of Revelation, and it has spawned
all sorts of stuff like the Left Behind books and movies.
So that’s one strain of emphasis in the Bible. But in contrast, there are also words
supporting the idea that the Kingdom of God isn’t a dramatic future event but rather the
Kingdom is already present. Listen to Jesus in Luke 17: “The Kingdom of God is not coming
with things that can be observed; nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There it is!’ For, in fact,
the Kingdom of God is among you.” The Greek can also be read as, “The Kingdom of God is
within you.”
And so if we look at the Gospel of Thomas, we can see that it reinforces this second,
present orientation. The Jesus of Thomas says that the Kingdom is inside us right now, if we can
but see it – and not only that, but because Christ was present from the beginning of the world, the
world has always been charged with the grandeur of God. The Kingdom has always been among
us and within us, from the very beginning. Already this is the best of all possible worlds.
And so Jesus’ command in Thomas is less about working to change the world and more
about recognizing the glory that’s already here. In some ways it’s like the advice that Socrates
and psychotherapists both give: Know thyself, and you’ll know the answer. In Saying 3 of the
Gospel of Thomas, Jesus says, “The kingdom is inside of you, and it is outside of you. When you
come to know yourselves, then you will become known, and you will realize that it is you who
are the sons of the living Father.”
It’s not hard to imagine a Jesus who himself was transformed and empowered by this
divine energy. The Gospel accounts of his Transfiguration, when on a mountaintop he is
suddenly bathed in the white light of God, are a visual image of that divinity shining through
him. The challenge in Thomas, I think, is to accept that we too have that power inside us – that
we’re different from Jesus not in kind, but only in degree. Jesus was not like Yoda, say, the wise
elder from another planet. He was us, only holier. Us, only he knew the light of God that was in
him the same way it is in you and me.
So the question I leave you with today is this: What difference would it make in your life
if you were able to know that the light of God was inside you? If you moved from looking for
inspiration in worship on Sunday, and trying to make that last through the week, to a place where
you knew yourself as a beacon of God’s presence? If you were to become that presence for
everyone you met? What would change in your relationships and in how you use your time? And
how might you cultivate that realization, that knowledge, of the holy light inside you?
Split the wood and Christ is there. Lift the stone and Christ is there. Look in your heart
and Christ is there.
Thanks be to God! Amen.