24 April 2005

Sermon: John 14:1-14 (Easter 5A)

The Rev. Robert C. Lamborn

^NRSV John 14:1 "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." ⁸ Philip 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. ¹³ I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. ¹⁴ If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

       “Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in God, believe also in me.  In my father’s house there are many dwelling places.”  These words have given great comfort to Christians for centuries as words of parting often used at funerals.  Yet these words could be so familiar to us that they lose some of their power.  Jesus saying, “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” isn’t the same thing as saying to a small child, “Now don’t be sad!”  This troubled feeling is the way we are told Jesus felt on learning that Lazarus had died–a deep, shuddering disturbance.  “Don’t be all broken up,” we might say.  “Don’t be absolutely shattered.”  In the positive we might phrase it, “Take heart; have courage.”  Of course when we say words of comfort like that, it’s because the people we’re saying it to are troubled, are broken up, even shattered.  And we know that there has to be more to offer than, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”

       “Believe in God,” Jesus goes on, “Believe also in me.  In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.”  Garrison Keillor has spoken about the history of translating this verse; how in the King James Version he grew up with he remembers, “In my father’s house there are many mansions,” which then in the Revised Standard Version became, “In my father’s house there are many rooms.”  If it keeps going this way, Keillor remarks, the next version will say, “My dad has a big house.” When there’s some energy around how a verse is translated, there’s usually a reason, though.  When “mansion” was first used in this verse more than 450 years ago, it didn’t mean a large or fancy house, so the current translation’s “dwelling places” is a good rendering. Although it’s a little archaic sounding, I’d probably say, “abodes,” because it comes from the same root as to remain or abide in Greek.  The point here is not that God is operating the ultimate Plaza Hotel whose future is not in doubt, but that our life is in God and will be in God abiding, dwelling in God in the same way Jesus’ life does. 

       The gospel passage we heard is part of what’s called Jesus’ Farewell Discourse, presented by John as a kind of conclusion to the Last Supper, coming after Jesus has predicted that one of the disciples would betray him, and after Judas has left the gathering.  These are some of Jesus’ last words, his final testament before he will be betrayed and arrested, tried and executed, and his words go on for more than three chapters.  Just before, Jesus has predicted that he would die; he has washed the feet of his disciples and told them to be servants, and has predicted that Peter would deny him three times.  It’s hardly a situation full of comfort, but one full of confusion and fear and pain, when the disciples hear, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”  Since these words come not from a situation free of trouble, but one absolutely full of trouble, so they can speak powerfully to our own troubles and anxieties, where we search desperately to find our way.

       One summer during seminary I did what most seminarians do–a chaplaincy internship of some type.  I worked in the neurological critical care unit in a hospital that was the regional trauma center in Indianapolis.  Neuro critical care had a lot of people who had experienced head injuries, strokes, and aneurysms, which meant decisions about life support, waiting for family members to arrive, raising the issue of organ donation, and telling people as much as we could about protocols and what would happen next.   But no matter how much we could tell them, it was never enough in those situations of high anxiety. 

       Thomas says to Jesus, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”  It’s our natural response even when we can’t know the way, to want to see the end, the solution, to make sure we’re on the right path, to know if we’re “there yet.”  “Show us the Father,” Philip says, “and we will be satisfied.”  When we’re in a bad situation, it’s natural in our culture to want to figure out how we’re going to fix it, how we will proceed under our own steam, whether it’s a situation when our messiah has just told us he’s going to die, or a situation when a loved one has wisely and courageously declined further medical treatment or any other situation that rips our hearts to shreds.  “Lord, we do not know where you are going.     How can we know the way?”  Thomas says.

       “I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” Jesus replies.  The way in a desperate time isn’t something we figure out and then manage to map out and build a road  and drive down in our own cars until we get to the destination.  When we don’t know the way, Jesus reminds us that he’s it.  The life of trust in God, in Jesus–that relationship–is the way, when the future is unclear or fearsome.  It’s a cliché to say “The journey is the destination”,  but some expressions are clichés  because they’re true.  Jesus as the way means not that there will not be trouble: times are always troubled somewhere.  Jesus as the way assures us in the midst of trouble, in the midst of shattering loss in the midst of all desperation, that all is far from lost.  “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”  Take heart; have courage.  Trust God and trust me, that your life is ultimately dwelling, abiding in God.

       It’s impossible for me to read this gospel or preach on it without remembering my mother-in-law Carolyn, who died a week and a half ago.  She had a strong trust that she was going home, a certainty that her abode would be with God, which helped give her the courage to decline further treatment that would not have extended her life meaningfully.  Her trust was built over a life of Christian engagement and commitment.  The way is a process; the journey is indeed the destination.