Sermon preached for First Presbyterian Church of New Haven on August 5, 2018
Texts
Romans 12:1-8 (read by liturgist, prior to sermon)
John 14:1-12 (read by preacher, with contextual introduction)
Texts
Romans 12:1-8 (read by liturgist, prior to sermon)
John 14:1-12 (read by preacher, with contextual introduction)
Our reading from the Gospel of John begins just after the friends have shared the meal that has become our Communion liturgy. Jesus is still comforting his disciples and preparing them for his departure. It’s the passage including the well-known words: “I am the way and the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father except through me.”
Before we read the rest of it together, there are two things I’m obliged to mention.[i]
Number 1: I would like to hold space for a moment for all those whose previous encounters with this text were not always life-giving. For some of us, those encounters took place in settings where the intent was to close Christians off from the rest of the world, or to invoke fear or conformity without any real space to breathe, without the encouragement to perceive a God that was not spoken at us. Breathe in a deep breath of new air… and let it out again. I am not suggesting that our reading today will heal every hurt, but I want to offer the assurance that today’s word is not one of condemnation. You and your whole self are welcome here today, and especially to the Communion table. Take the time to notice what you are feeling in your body as we read the text together, and do not let your heart be troubled if any of it is difficult to name.
Number 2: While I have a map of something I’d like us to explore, let’s not assume that a wandering mind is a bad thing. Preachers and teachers like me believe that sometimes a listener hears something worth hearing that isn’t said aloud. There are a lot of questions to ask of this text—and a lot of good things to wonder that have little to do with it. If at some point later on you’d like to talk more with me or Pastor J.C. or the church community about anything that bubbles up, anything in your mind or heart, we are here as spiritual companions to do that.
But while I was preparing this message, I received a prophetic word from my Dove chocolate wrapper. It said, “You can do anything, but you can’t do everything.”[ii]
So this morning, at least out loud, we will focus.
I’d like to imagine what it may have felt like to Jesus to be reassuring these people who knew him in what was about to be their darkest hours without him—and what the story of this night means to a community now striving to teach and grow in Christian faith. How does the Body of Christ learn?
Let us hear from the 14th chapter of John, picking up shortly after the meal, and just a few chapters before Jesus’ death. Jesus is speaking:
The Word of God for the people of God.
-
Before we read the rest of it together, there are two things I’m obliged to mention.[i]
Number 1: I would like to hold space for a moment for all those whose previous encounters with this text were not always life-giving. For some of us, those encounters took place in settings where the intent was to close Christians off from the rest of the world, or to invoke fear or conformity without any real space to breathe, without the encouragement to perceive a God that was not spoken at us. Breathe in a deep breath of new air… and let it out again. I am not suggesting that our reading today will heal every hurt, but I want to offer the assurance that today’s word is not one of condemnation. You and your whole self are welcome here today, and especially to the Communion table. Take the time to notice what you are feeling in your body as we read the text together, and do not let your heart be troubled if any of it is difficult to name.
Number 2: While I have a map of something I’d like us to explore, let’s not assume that a wandering mind is a bad thing. Preachers and teachers like me believe that sometimes a listener hears something worth hearing that isn’t said aloud. There are a lot of questions to ask of this text—and a lot of good things to wonder that have little to do with it. If at some point later on you’d like to talk more with me or Pastor J.C. or the church community about anything that bubbles up, anything in your mind or heart, we are here as spiritual companions to do that.
But while I was preparing this message, I received a prophetic word from my Dove chocolate wrapper. It said, “You can do anything, but you can’t do everything.”[ii]
So this morning, at least out loud, we will focus.
I’d like to imagine what it may have felt like to Jesus to be reassuring these people who knew him in what was about to be their darkest hours without him—and what the story of this night means to a community now striving to teach and grow in Christian faith. How does the Body of Christ learn?
Let us hear from the 14th chapter of John, picking up shortly after the meal, and just a few chapters before Jesus’ death. Jesus is speaking:
14 “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. 2 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? 3 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. 4 And you know the way to the place where I am going.” 5 Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” 6 Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. 7 If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”
8Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” 9 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’? 10 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. 11 Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. 12 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.
The Word of God for the people of God.
-
Let us pray.
Holy Spirit, you infuse this space. You fill our lungs, whisper at our ears, and breathe life into our curiosities. Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of all of our hearts be acceptable to you, O God. Let this preaching moment be one not only for our minds, but for our bodies and spirits; and not only for ourselves, but for the ongoing creation of our communities of faith, that we might live fully into your promises and purposes. Through our faith in Jesus Christ and Christ’s faith in us, we pray. Amen.
-
“Do not let your hearts be troubled,” he says, and for some reason when I read it this time I hear a tinge of frustration in his voice as he searches for the Right Words, because how on earth is he going to capture the enormity of what he wants to tell them in the Right Words? He says, “Believe in God. Believe also in me.”
This word “believe” sometimes carries with it a bit of baggage. Now that so many teachers over time have understood it in a specific way, it may be even more difficult to hear it differently.
Years and years and years of hearing this text as though it were a battle cry or a command or an indictment of non-believers.
It was a comfort.[iii]
Some translations of this text go like this, “You believe in God. Believe also in me.” Or, in my best Frustrated Jesus voice, “Well, you believe in God, right? Yes? Okay! Build on that. Go from there.”
Frustrated, you see, not out of anger or impatience with his disciples but because time is short. A teacher who knows that the dismissal bell is about to chime. A man on death row having his last visit with his friends. He cares about the people listening to him and what they take with them from their time together.
(How does the Body of Christ learn?)
So Jesus leans on what he knows of his friends and the knowledge they already have. He’s not talking to people who haven’t met him yet. And he isn’t weighing for them the likelihood of whether or not God exists. The Gospel writer of John more than any other chose words to emphasize Jesus’ divine being, but is that all that Jesus himself is saying?
This word “believe” sometimes carries with it a bit of baggage. Now that so many teachers over time have understood it in a specific way, it may be even more difficult to hear it differently.
Years and years and years of hearing this text as though it were a battle cry or a command or an indictment of non-believers.
It was a comfort.[iii]
Some translations of this text go like this, “You believe in God. Believe also in me.” Or, in my best Frustrated Jesus voice, “Well, you believe in God, right? Yes? Okay! Build on that. Go from there.”
Frustrated, you see, not out of anger or impatience with his disciples but because time is short. A teacher who knows that the dismissal bell is about to chime. A man on death row having his last visit with his friends. He cares about the people listening to him and what they take with them from their time together.
(How does the Body of Christ learn?)
So Jesus leans on what he knows of his friends and the knowledge they already have. He’s not talking to people who haven’t met him yet. And he isn’t weighing for them the likelihood of whether or not God exists. The Gospel writer of John more than any other chose words to emphasize Jesus’ divine being, but is that all that Jesus himself is saying?
What does it mean to believe in someone you know?
[to J.C.] I believe in you, J.C. I believe you are the Pastor and Teaching Elder God has called to us, for such a time as this, to lead us in our hearing of the Word and our communing at the Table, in offering Sanctuary to our immigrant neighbors, in learning all the new ways we will be Christ’s hands and feet and ears in this world. I believe in you.
[to the congregation now] At any point of that did it sound like I was telling J.C. that I think she exists?
See, we do understand on a deep, resonant level this use of the word “believe,” but whenever we start using it for Jesus or God it can take on this whole other connotation. A purity test of opinion or a creed to affirm as though it’s little more to us than a passcode into heaven. And none of this is necessarily what Jesus is saying.
He’s saying to those with him, those who already know him, those for whom he has been an access point, that they can believe in him and who he is to them.
To Believe is to trust; to Believe is to sense — not necessarily that something is verifiable fact (maybe because it is still in progress) — but that it is the ongoing fulfillment of a promise, or something hoped-for, or something worth witnessing.
Truth itself, as in the line where Jesus says “I am the truth,” is not a static noun, the Fact we crave in the so-called age of ‘Fake News.’ Instead, it’s that ongoing process, the fulfilling of the promise. One author[iv] writes that it’s as though Jesus is saying, “I am the unforgetting.”
[to the congregation now] At any point of that did it sound like I was telling J.C. that I think she exists?
See, we do understand on a deep, resonant level this use of the word “believe,” but whenever we start using it for Jesus or God it can take on this whole other connotation. A purity test of opinion or a creed to affirm as though it’s little more to us than a passcode into heaven. And none of this is necessarily what Jesus is saying.
He’s saying to those with him, those who already know him, those for whom he has been an access point, that they can believe in him and who he is to them.
To Believe is to trust; to Believe is to sense — not necessarily that something is verifiable fact (maybe because it is still in progress) — but that it is the ongoing fulfillment of a promise, or something hoped-for, or something worth witnessing.
Truth itself, as in the line where Jesus says “I am the truth,” is not a static noun, the Fact we crave in the so-called age of ‘Fake News.’ Instead, it’s that ongoing process, the fulfilling of the promise. One author[iv] writes that it’s as though Jesus is saying, “I am the unforgetting.”
The Unforgetting; the very act of not-forgetting. The act of remembrance. Yes, our remembrance of God, and also God’s remembrance of us and promises made to us. That is the truth we trust in. That is the truth we teach.
(How does the Body of Christ learn?)
Every time we gather for worship or study with faith or care for our neighbors, we participate in the unforgetting. When we join together around the Communion table today we will share Jesus’ message, “Do this in remembrance of me.” Be part of the unforgetting.
(How does the Body of Christ learn?)
Every time we gather for worship or study with faith or care for our neighbors, we participate in the unforgetting. When we join together around the Communion table today we will share Jesus’ message, “Do this in remembrance of me.” Be part of the unforgetting.
-
Right up there with the words “believe” and “truth,” do you know what my favorite phrase of this Gospel text is? It’s when Jesus tells the disciples, “but if you do not.” The full line is: “Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.”
By saying this, Jesus creates space for his disciples to breathe. To be unsure. To learn by some other means than the one he’s just presented. “If, after that explanation, it doesn’t make sense, then try this activity instead.” And then, like any good teacher, he provides the alternative that’s accessible in a different way. Witnessing the works themselves. And not only witnessing them but doing them.
He says, “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…”
People mixed up with Jesus are going to find themselves drawn to do some peculiar things, like sharing food with strangers. Proclaiming the sacredness of people the world degrades. Housing the guests that others build walls to keep away. Singing in a crowd on a Sunday morning.
His death will shake them. His absence will test their faith. His resurrection and ascension will be an unforgetting that stays with them long after he’s gone.
By saying this, Jesus creates space for his disciples to breathe. To be unsure. To learn by some other means than the one he’s just presented. “If, after that explanation, it doesn’t make sense, then try this activity instead.” And then, like any good teacher, he provides the alternative that’s accessible in a different way. Witnessing the works themselves. And not only witnessing them but doing them.
He says, “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…”
People mixed up with Jesus are going to find themselves drawn to do some peculiar things, like sharing food with strangers. Proclaiming the sacredness of people the world degrades. Housing the guests that others build walls to keep away. Singing in a crowd on a Sunday morning.
His death will shake them. His absence will test their faith. His resurrection and ascension will be an unforgetting that stays with them long after he’s gone.
And when he’s gone, they altogether will be the physical form of his Body on earth. Every time we gather as members of the Body of Christ, we are literally and figuratively “re-membering.” Resurrecting the Body in a living Church.
And the disciples will not know everything they need to know or do in an instant. They will lean, as even Jesus has, on discernment and prayer and the wisdom of the generations.
Then, to do the things that Jesus believes in them to do, they will need to trust their muscle memory. And to be able to trust their muscle memory, they will need to hone it. They will need to practice. Sometimes, the practice itself will be a comfort. During our confirmation class this past year, I was moved to hear how many of the youth talked about our traditions as a comfort to them—particularly the Doxology. The Sunday school children have said the same about lighting candles and the quiet of prayer.
And what does J.C. tell us in worship every week about passing the peace?
‘We practice this sign of peace here not so that we can keep it to ourselves, but so that we can take it with us out into the world.’
Practice. We don’t do this only for ourselves. We learn here how to greet our neighbors and reconcile with anyone estranged to us. And then we bring what we have learned, how we have been renewed and transformed, to those we meet. For non-believers, the Good News of this story is that they are not to be condemned for disbelief or belonging to another Body; they are to be invited as neighbors and friends of the resurrected Christ who lives on in a peace-filled people. Whether or not they ever sense themselves to be a part of this Christian Body, they will have occasions to know us. And if we study and practice well, we will be renewed and transformed into something worth trusting.
-
In June, our Session voted for us to become a Sanctuary church, meaning we are prepared to open our doors to an immigrant or refugee and bear public witness if ever ICE tries to deport them before the person has the opportunity for legal defense. At three separate events before that decision, 70 people completed Sanctuary training here in this very room.
What did that training look like? We learned why the work mattered and what difference it could make to anyone we host. We voiced our concerns, reflecting on what troubled our hearts. We searched our faith tradition and our scriptures for guidance. Then we discerned together what kinds of practical help might be needed – a list of tasks that would be physically impossible for only one person to fulfill. We didn’t concern ourselves yet with who might have the gifts to do what. At that point it still wasn’t about each of us volunteering or being nominated to do a job. It was about saying, “What would it look like if ICE were to come to the door, looking for our guest? When one of us is responsible for hosting, what will they need to know? What should they do? When one of us is responsible for leading our crowd of witnesses in prayer and song to draw public attention to this injustice, what will they need to know? What should they do?” It would all be needed, if and when the time should come. And if we each did our best to prepare ourselves to do any role that might be needed, each of us would be ready to contribute anything. Together, we would be able to do everything.
And then we practiced it. We volunteered to “try on” a role and work together as one unit.
On the night that I was trained, Art had a chance to feel just how uncomfortable it might be to listen to an ICE agent on the other side of the door and practiced remaining steady under pressure.
Tim drew from his love of worship to lead the crowd of witnesses in singing, quickly recalling a song everyone could sing from memory.
One of the training instructors played a news reporter who was actually doing very little to help amplify our message and a whole lot more to get in the way of our witness. Sue, in a moment of outstanding inspiration, managed to distract her with food.
And we, a crowd with courage in our purpose and the confidence of prior instruction, answered J.C.’s call-and-response loud and clear.
All of this, you could say, was pretend. Imaginative play, not unlike the scripts that our children bring to life at church a few times a year. Our ideal situation, of course, is one where we never need to confront ICE agents in that context at all, and it’s possible that we will never need to.
But we are people of both prayer and preparation.
And the disciples will not know everything they need to know or do in an instant. They will lean, as even Jesus has, on discernment and prayer and the wisdom of the generations.
Then, to do the things that Jesus believes in them to do, they will need to trust their muscle memory. And to be able to trust their muscle memory, they will need to hone it. They will need to practice. Sometimes, the practice itself will be a comfort. During our confirmation class this past year, I was moved to hear how many of the youth talked about our traditions as a comfort to them—particularly the Doxology. The Sunday school children have said the same about lighting candles and the quiet of prayer.
And what does J.C. tell us in worship every week about passing the peace?
‘We practice this sign of peace here not so that we can keep it to ourselves, but so that we can take it with us out into the world.’
Practice. We don’t do this only for ourselves. We learn here how to greet our neighbors and reconcile with anyone estranged to us. And then we bring what we have learned, how we have been renewed and transformed, to those we meet. For non-believers, the Good News of this story is that they are not to be condemned for disbelief or belonging to another Body; they are to be invited as neighbors and friends of the resurrected Christ who lives on in a peace-filled people. Whether or not they ever sense themselves to be a part of this Christian Body, they will have occasions to know us. And if we study and practice well, we will be renewed and transformed into something worth trusting.
-
In June, our Session voted for us to become a Sanctuary church, meaning we are prepared to open our doors to an immigrant or refugee and bear public witness if ever ICE tries to deport them before the person has the opportunity for legal defense. At three separate events before that decision, 70 people completed Sanctuary training here in this very room.
What did that training look like? We learned why the work mattered and what difference it could make to anyone we host. We voiced our concerns, reflecting on what troubled our hearts. We searched our faith tradition and our scriptures for guidance. Then we discerned together what kinds of practical help might be needed – a list of tasks that would be physically impossible for only one person to fulfill. We didn’t concern ourselves yet with who might have the gifts to do what. At that point it still wasn’t about each of us volunteering or being nominated to do a job. It was about saying, “What would it look like if ICE were to come to the door, looking for our guest? When one of us is responsible for hosting, what will they need to know? What should they do? When one of us is responsible for leading our crowd of witnesses in prayer and song to draw public attention to this injustice, what will they need to know? What should they do?” It would all be needed, if and when the time should come. And if we each did our best to prepare ourselves to do any role that might be needed, each of us would be ready to contribute anything. Together, we would be able to do everything.
And then we practiced it. We volunteered to “try on” a role and work together as one unit.
On the night that I was trained, Art had a chance to feel just how uncomfortable it might be to listen to an ICE agent on the other side of the door and practiced remaining steady under pressure.
Tim drew from his love of worship to lead the crowd of witnesses in singing, quickly recalling a song everyone could sing from memory.
One of the training instructors played a news reporter who was actually doing very little to help amplify our message and a whole lot more to get in the way of our witness. Sue, in a moment of outstanding inspiration, managed to distract her with food.
And we, a crowd with courage in our purpose and the confidence of prior instruction, answered J.C.’s call-and-response loud and clear.
All of this, you could say, was pretend. Imaginative play, not unlike the scripts that our children bring to life at church a few times a year. Our ideal situation, of course, is one where we never need to confront ICE agents in that context at all, and it’s possible that we will never need to.
But we are people of both prayer and preparation.
(How does the Body of Christ learn?)
It’s two chapters later, in John’s chapter 16, by the way, that Jesus and the disciples have an exchange that, to a teacher’s ear, sounds kind of like this: “Oh!!! We get it!” I mean, from some of the larger context it seems the disciples may only kind of get it, but still! They share a moment!
Back in chapter 14, the disciples are telling Jesus they don’t even know yet what he says they know. And unless they’re just stalling their teacher, they mean it. They need a new perspective. But by chapter 16, the disciples say to Jesus, “Now you are speaking plainly!”
Back in chapter 14, the disciples are telling Jesus they don’t even know yet what he says they know. And unless they’re just stalling their teacher, they mean it. They need a new perspective. But by chapter 16, the disciples say to Jesus, “Now you are speaking plainly!”
And the Good News is this: Jesus teaches the Body in any way that will get us to those moments of assurance and understanding, no matter how much more there is for us to understand. Sometimes—sometimes he uses words.
(How does the Body of Christ learn?)
(1) By recognizing that troubled hearts can cloud our minds; by comforting our hearts enough that we are in a position to listen. Do not let your hearts be troubled.
(1) By recognizing that troubled hearts can cloud our minds; by comforting our hearts enough that we are in a position to listen. Do not let your hearts be troubled.
(2) By building upon knowledge or resources we already have, and knowing that Jesus will always meet us first wherever we are. You believe in God, believe also in me.
(3) By trusting that Jesus himself is the ongoing fulfillment of his promises to his disciples, promises for abundant life and a directed path. I am the way, and the truth, and the life.
(4) By exploring alternate avenues of understanding, recognizing that a God who prepares a place for us would not prepare it somewhere inaccessible to us. But if you do not.
(5) By participating in the Unforgetting, in the remembrance, in the witness. Believe me because of the works themselves.
(6) And by receiving the Holy Spirit and entrusting her with opportunities to practice within us, honing the muscle memory of our embodied faith. The one who believes in me will do the works that I do, and greater works than these.
Creating a Christian community of faith like ours means we will recognize that not everyone will learn as we do, trust as we do, even believe as we do.
It means being patient and reflective, honoring one another’s wounds and giving those parts of the Body of Christ the care they need to heal before they can be asked to stretch, carry, lift, perceive, speak, sustain. Healing work is learning, too.
And creating a community of faith means humbly acknowledging that, no matter how much we may know alone, we must practice together. We promise to one another that we will show up – to share in our practicing whatever way we are able, so that the Body of Christ is wholly prepared to move as one.
It means being patient and reflective, honoring one another’s wounds and giving those parts of the Body of Christ the care they need to heal before they can be asked to stretch, carry, lift, perceive, speak, sustain. Healing work is learning, too.
And creating a community of faith means humbly acknowledging that, no matter how much we may know alone, we must practice together. We promise to one another that we will show up – to share in our practicing whatever way we are able, so that the Body of Christ is wholly prepared to move as one.
And all the people of God said, “Amen.”
[i] I learned the importance of such hospitality and embodied care from Heather Elkins, my professor for courses on the Church at Worship and Narrative Preaching; from Angella Son, my professor for Pastoral Care and a week-long intensive on the Spirituality of Joy; and from Lynne Westfield, my professor for Educational Ministries and a week-long intensive on the Holy Spirit, all at Drew Theological School (2010-2014).
[ii] Literally a Dove chocolate wrapper. First Presbyterian Church of New Haven (2018).
[iii] I draw mostly from ideas presented to me by Wesley Ariarajah in Interfaith Dialogue and Melanie Johnson-DeBaufre in New Testament at Drew Theological School (2010-2014) and Cameron Afzal in a course on the Gospel of John at Sarah Lawrence College (2009-2010), alongside other biblical and theological influences and meditation.
[iv] Author Stant Litore
