Nathanael was not easily impressed.
When Philip came to him with astonishing news — that they had found the one promised by Moses and the prophets, Jesus of Nazareth — Nathanael answered with what may be one of the great skeptical lines in Scripture:
“Can anything good come from Nazareth?”
Philip did not give him a lecture.
He did not produce an argument.
He did not become angry that Nathanael had asked the question.
He said three words:
Come and see.
And Nathanael went.
That small moment seems particularly worth remembering on the Feast of St. Bartholomew.
We live in an age extraordinarily well supplied with arguments. We can argue with strangers before breakfast, correct someone on another continent before lunch, and spend the evening discovering still more people who are wrong.
But Christianity began differently.
Again and again, it spread through encounters.
Someone had seen something.
Someone knew someone.
Someone said, in effect:
You ought to come.
There is something wonderfully Chestertonian about that.
Chesterton rarely presented Christianity as a dreary collection of propositions reluctantly accepted. He wrote as a man who had stumbled upon an enormous secret and could hardly understand why everyone wasn’t rushing over to have a look.
Perhaps that remains one of the best forms of evangelization.
Not:
“Sit down while I prove that you are wrong.”
But:
“Come and see.”
Come hear the story.
Come sit by the fire.
Come listen for a while.
Come through the Open Door.
You might be surprised by what you find.
— Chesterton Radio
Stories • Ideas • Wonder
AUGUST 24th
ST. BARTHOLOMEW’S DAY
The Secularist says that Christianity produced tumult and cruelty. He seems to suppose that this proves it to be bad. But it might prove it to be very good. For men commit crimes not only for bad things, far more often for good things. For no bad things can be desired quite so passionately and persistently as good things can be desired, and only very exceptional men desire very bad and unnatural things. Most crime is committed because, owing to some peculiar complication, very beautiful and necessary things are in some danger. For instance, if we wanted to abolish thieving and swindling at one blow, the best thing to do would be to abolish babies. Babies, the most beautiful things on earth, have been the excuse and origin of almost all the business brutality and financial infamy on earth. If we could abolish monogamic or romantic love, the country would be dotted with Maiden Assizes.
‘Religious Doubts of Democracy.’