By Kristin Berkey-Abbott
John 14: 15-21
Jesus speaks the words in today’s Gospel reading to the disciples in the last hours they’ll have together before the Crucifixion. He is preparing them for the hard times of separation that will be coming—not only his Crucifixion and death, but the Ascension too.
We will celebrate the Ascension on Thursday. Every year as Ascension Day approaches, I think of those poor disciples. They have such a short time with their resurrected Lord, before He goes away again. How on earth do they cope with these developments, the fierce grief moving to great rejoicing, moving back to grief again?
I wonder if they thought back to this teaching. I imagine them remembering the Crucifixion—nothing could have prepared them for what came next. They were probably just getting used to the idea of Jesus defeating death. So why can’t he stay?
I also see this situation as a metaphor for our own modern lives. We may be feeling a bit whipsawed by grief and loss ourselves. We may recover from one crisis, only to find ourselves staring down the next one. As I've gotten older, I've noticed that these crises seem to be increasing in frequency and severity in the lives of those I love. I look back to the dramas of my high school and college years, and I understand why so many elders chuckle dismissively at the troubles of youth. We forget, however, that trouble is trouble, no matter what our age.
Again and again, across the span of life, we find ourselves wrestling with similar questions. Why is there so much suffering? Why did God create a world where cancer and other diseases have their ravaging way with people? Why do the rich and powerful care so little about the world they’re living in and why doesn’t God punish those who don’t care? Why do we lose the ones we love, while the ones we wouldn’t mind losing are the ones who live the longest?
We are not the first to ask these questions, of course. Theologians have been happy to give us answers—here’s a favorite: it’s because Eve ate the apple. Or maybe we’d prefer this explanation: it’s because God and Satan are in a battle, and some days, Satan is winning.
But notice how Jesus does not answer the questions that we might wish we could ask God directly. Jesus did not come in human form to explain the ways of God to us. No, Jesus came to show us how to live more God-drenched lives, by living among us and showing us the way.
So now our question might be, why does he have to leave? Here, too, Jesus doesn’t explain why he can’t stay forever, why he is resurrected, only to leave again 40 days later.
Instead, Jesus offers this assurance: we will never be alone. Although we may feel orphaned, we are not. We may feel desolate, another way of translating verse 18. But we have a holy comforter on the way.
Today’s Gospel ends by Jesus reassuring us that we are not losing him. Indeed, the Gospel ends with an expansive vision of how we will abide with the Triune God, all of our lives intertwined, a place to rest and a place to be energized.
On this Mother’s Day, it doesn’t seem like much of a stretch to notice how Jesus describes a relationship that is nurturing, in the way that the best mothering relationships are. These days that celebrate parenting—Mother’s Day today, Father’s Day in June—can be emotionally wrenching for people. Parenting is not always an easy relationship, so these holidays can remind us of what we didn’t have with our parents or our children, or maybe they remind us of times together that are gone forever. Mother’s Day can remind us of paths not taken. Maybe we wish we’d had a different family configuration: more children or more time with extended family or children spaced apart differently. Maybe we made sacrifices for our children, and we wonder what would have happened if we made different choices. Mother’s Day can be a holiday that comes with emotional landmines.
In this context, too, the words of Jesus take on fresh meaning. We are not left orphaned, even though we may feel orphaned in our family relationships: children grow up and start their own families and most of us will outlive our parents. It’s enough to leave us feeling desolate, and the stories of the disciples might not make us feel much better. We don’t hear much about the family relationships of these men as they went out to spread the Good News of the inbreaking Kingdom of God to all of the Roman empire.
On Mother’s Day, let us turn our attention to the mothers in the Bible, particularly those at the beginning of the story of Jesus. I’m thinking of Elizabeth, mother of John the Baptist, who is very old, much too old to have a child. I’m thinking of Mary, mother of Jesus, who is very young, much too lacking in resources to be a good mother. And yet, both women received unexpected invitations from God, and both women said yes.
Today, I invite you to think about who you are in these stories. Are you one of the disciples, careening between joy and grief, as you move from Holy Week to Easter to Ascension? Are you Elizabeth, a woman who comes to fulfillment late in life? Are you Mary, facing huge hurdles as you discern a way forward? Are you the main nurturer in your life? Are you in need of nurturing? Do you feel orphaned or desolate?
Hear with your ears and with your heart the words of Jesus, who promises us that we are not abandoned, we are not left orphaned, we are not desolate, stripped of everything that might have mattered to us.
If we’re feeling old and washed up, God still has a place for us. If we’re feeling young and insignificant, God has opportunities that the rest of our culture may not offer. If we’re worried that we never understood Jesus the way we should, we have an advocate in the Holy Spirit. If we feel too weighed down by our burdens, Jesus assures us that our lives are knit with his; we’re not carrying our burdens alone.
No matter how many ways we feel barren, new growth is possible. God’s good news is more inclusive than we dared imagine. And we are at a hinge point of history where it is more important than ever to deliver that good news to a world that is so hungry to hear it. Rest assured that we are up to the challenge. We are nurtured by Jesus as we abide with God and the Holy Spirit, all our lives sewed together into a comforter of peace that passes all human understanding.
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