Love Some More

John 14:1-14

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own, but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me, but if you do not, then believe because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

When I worked as a hospice chaplain, there was a common piece of advice, wisdom, even, that we would give to the loved ones of those who were days, hours, moments away from passing on. We would advise them to tell their loved one that it was okay to move on, and they, those who remained on this earth, would be okay. Spouses would assure their spouses; children would comfort their parents… because when someone was lingering for a little while, for longer than anyone thought was possible, it’s thought that they’re scared, not of what comes next… but of what their beloveds left behind will do without them. Parents who have raised and protected and unconditionally loved their children, spouses who have supported their husbands or wives through sickness and health, through thick and thin. It was often the last bit of assurance the dying would need to finally let go.  

We have something similar going on here, except, inversed. This is the beginning of Jesus’ farewell discourse in the gospel of John. This is Jesus preparing his disciples for his physical absence. So it may have seemed a little odd that we go from the glorious resurrection that we celebrate on Easter, backwards, to this time of foreboding and uncertainty— but Jesus is giving his disciples comfort, consolation and guidance that is more than relevant to us today. After all, Jesus is not physically with us. He has died, risen, and ascended to be with God. And especially, thousands of years after this fact, we need the reminders of how to be in the world without him physically here. We need reminders that even thousands of years later, we can still do great things in Jesus’ name.

As is characteristic of the Gospel of John, the disciples ask well-intentioned, but misguided questions, which are answered by Jesus with a revelation. And we could read this as Jesus scolding or chastising the disciples, (and I do have a hard time not reading a little bit of frustration in Jesus’ response to Philip in particular), but when I read this passage, there’s just such an overall feeling of gentleness and comfort and encouragement. First Thomas, in classic ultra-rational Thomas fashion, asks Jesus, How can we know the way if we don’t know the destination? I imagine Jesus with a quiet chuckle, a slight smile, a gentle head-shake as he says, Silly Thomas— I am the way. And then Philip, sounding more like a doubting Thomas, in response to Jesus’ assertion that if you know him, you know God, says, Well, okay, then show us God, then we’ll believe you. And Jesus’ response, which I won’t paraphrase, but repeat verbatim, “‘Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, 'Show us the Father'?”

But then this slight frustration turns back into gentleness. He gives them grace. He even says, “Believe me that I am in God and God is in me, but if you do not, believe because of the works themselves.” In other words—your faith should be strong enough that you simply believe my words. But if you must be convinced with signs and actions, so be it. It’s all good. And I wonder if he says this because sooner than later, those signs and actions and works will be the duty of the disciples. Soon, they will have to carry on the healing work of justice and love that Jesus began. Soon they will have to spread the Good News and make sure the world knows that death can be defeated. They cannot linger in the past, they cannot mourn for too long because they will have to carry on the works.

One of my commentaries describes Jesus’ encouraging comment in verse 12 about his disciples doing greater works than even he did as “a firm stance against nostalgia.” It reminded me of a quote from the author and humorist John Hodgman from his book Vacationland: “…I consider nostalgia to be a toxic impulse. It is the twinned, yearning delusion that (a) the past was better (it wasn’t) and (b) it can be recaptured (it can’t)…”. Now, to be clear, I’m not completely against nostalgia—if I were, I wouldn’t be married to Chris, whose prize possession is a 40-something-year-old tube tv on which he can play his obscure VHS tapes and his original Nintendo games. Nostalgia can bring us joy from lovely memories, sure. But if we get bogged down in nostalgia, that’s when things can get toxic, dangerous even.

Today, so many find themselves looking back on the past with rose-colored glasses, positive that things were better in postwar America, during the baby boom, the time of housewives and nuclear families. And this kind of nostalgia starts to bleed into politics. Cordie brought to my attention a recent very long article by David Brooks about this fact—about reactionary politics and so-called “traditionalists” who opine and long for a world of “traditional gender roles” and binary thinking; he makes note that the religions that many young people are flocking to are pre-Vatican II Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy.  So many people have been convinced that we were better off in decades past, ignoring the fact that the most basic of civil rights were still being fought for, that poor never had the supposed privilege of being stay-at-home moms, that queer people couldn’t be their full selves—or maybe these facts aren’t being ignored. Maybe for many of these so-called traditionalists, it’s not a bug, but a feature.

Jesus needed to make sure his disciples didn’t fall into this trap after he was gone. He needed to make sure his disciples kept moving forward and didn’t lose hope and wind up falling into old patterns and bad habits. In fact, this is one of the very things Paul was railed about in his first letter to the Corinthians— the new Jesus followers of Corinth had fallen back into the old ways of hierarchy, and were segregating and being cruel to their siblings in Christ around the communion table: chapter 11, v. 22-23 reads

When you come together, it is not really to eat the Lord’s supper.  For when the time comes to eat, each of you proceeds to eat your own supper, and one goes hungry and another becomes drunk…  Do you show contempt for the church of God and humiliate those who have nothing?

The people of Corinth were going backwards. That’s what Jesus was trying to avoid. And he absolutely foresaw things like this happening, which is why these farewell discourses happen. He needed to make sure his chosen closest circle of friends would spread the good word in a way that held true to his notions of peace and justice. He needed to make sure that his word was spread in way  that all people would be invited to the table to break bread together.

At our annual meeting yesterday, I attended the community advocacy workshop, and one of the things that was mentioned was the fact that when there are huge changes in society and in a culture, two things can happen. One, is that huge progress can be made, people can work together and step forward together into a new future. But the other possibility is that reactionary, destructive forces take hold, and we find ourselves moving backwards. This is what Jesus was encouraging his disciple to avoid. He was giving them encouragement and strength to keep moving forward, to make sur they didn’t fall into any traps the work Christ did on this world would change everything.

And, there’s also the simple fact that memories fade. As time went on, as those memories of Jesus breaking bread for the disciples faded, as the Roman Empire remained an oppressive boot on the necks of early Jesus followers, there was bound to be some backsliding. There were bound be frustrations. There was bound to be hopelessness.

So Jesus says, Do not let your hearts be troubled…if I go to prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. The disciples will always have a place with Jesus. In this life and in the next. We always have a place with Jesus. Next week, we will talk about the advocate, the Holy Spirit that remains with us to guide us in Jesus’ absence, but for this week, we simply take heart in Jesus’ encouragement. We simply take heart in his gentle but firm commands to keep up the good fight, and that “[Christ] will do whatever [we] ask in his name, so that [God] may be glorified…” Now, does this mean we ask for a million dollars in Jesus’ name, and we’ll get it? No, of course. This is about being mindful, being intentional, and being genuine in our faith lives. This is about doing good works in Christ’s name while we’re still blessed to be on this earth to help to usher in this new world on which there is a place made for everyone. Like the rest of this beginning of the farewell discourse, it’s about remaining faithful and encouraged amidst the chaos, and the grief—and of course, in the physical absence of Jesus.

There’s a scene from one of the favorite movies, the cult classic Harold and Maude, that I was thinking about all week as I wrote this sermon. It’s the second to last scene in the movie. I’m going to describe it to you, and in doing so, I’m going to spoil the ending for you, but first of all—I think the statute of limitations is up when a movie is 55-years-old; and second of all, I genuinely believe that knowing this fact about the movie does not ruin the movie. It’s a strange and touching and beautiful film regardless, so if you haven’t seen it, don’t let this stop you.

So Harold and Maude is about a morose, and deeply depressed young man who’s obsessed with death. He goes to strangers’ funerals for fun. At one of those funerals, he meets Maude, a 79-year-old woman who is absolutely full of life and love, and the most beautifully chaotic energy. They develop a relationship, and Harold falls in love with her because she teaches Harold to love life in all its messiness, and to embrace it. And then on her 80th birthday, she lets Harold know that she took some pills to end her life. This is foreshadowed in the beginning when Maude says,  “I’ll be 80 next week! Good time to move on, don’t you think?” Harold, of course, is out of his mind with fear, and he calls 911. As he’s riding with Maude to the hospital, he begs her not to go, and tells her through choking tears that he loves her. Maude’s smiles, and says her final line of the film: “Oh, Harold, that’s wonderful. Go and love some more.” Amen.