A sermon by Associate Minister Elsa A. Peters, April 20, 2008
John 14:1-14
I love the Gospel of John. I mean it. I love the Gospel of John. Even when my evangelical sisters and brothers do horrible things with it and Jesus is just little too high and mighty, I love the Gospel of John. It begins with the most fantastic poetry. I bet you even know the beginning of the poem:
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God
and the Word was God.
And then, we get to about this point in the Gospel – where Jesus gets closer to death and starts this lengthy– right here, at about chapter 14, and I want to give up.
But, I don’t. And I wouldn’t. I can’t because these words speak to my understanding of the world. This strange coded language liberates the hope that I have for this world. I don’t need a high tech presentation that shows my former city sinking into the sea. I won’t even lean on scientific data – even though I affirm the work of the experts that tell us that our habits must change now. Instead, I turn to the Gospel of John.
John’s community is one like ours. There was the dominant culture that was dictated by the Empire of Rome. And then, off to the side somewhere, there was this beloved community. Theirs was a community that didn’t buy into the ways of the Empire. “They ignored social rank, privileges [and] entitlement.” They related to each other differently. The did not totally remove themselves from the Empire – but their decisions about how to relate to each other set them apart. It was in these relationships that they revealed their opposition for the ways of the Empire.
In other words, they were the social deviants. You may not be as comfortable with that phrase as I am. You might think that that’s going a little too far. But, listen to Jesus’ social deviance:
I am the way and the truth and the life.
This isn’t a guy that comfortably fits into the mainstream. The Empire of Rome describes one way of being: militarily, economically, politically and even ideologically. The Empire has it’s own way of truth and life. But, simply by hs choice of words, Jesus shows that there is another way. Jesus rejects these ways of Empire, and corrects it by saying:
I am the way and the truth and the life.
He is speaking a particular language to a particular people in a particular way. And this is why I love the Gospel of John. John uses language in cryptic and confusing ways. And yet, if we can listen carefully, we can hear an earth-shattering message that will blow even Al Gore out of the water.
You don’t need a dictionary to figure it out. These are ordinary words – but that’s what makes it so powerful. This community uses “ordinary terms from the ordinary language of the larger society but gives them special in-group meanings that are understood only by the insiders.” You and I are part of the in-group. We continue the tradition of the beloved community simply by having the audacity to recite these words in worship. We are claiming the bold tradition that this is not language for the Empire – but language for our beloved community.
We continue to use particular words – like truth, way and life – to explain the unique way that we relate to each other. It is in our words that we find the power to oppose the Empire. It is in these ordinary words – like reduce, reuse and recycle – that we begin to describe a different relationship to each other and our world.
Jesus offers these three words that begin to explain this unique relationship: the way, the truth and the life. These are not new words to John’s version of the Jesus story.
Truth came through Jesus. That’s how that wonderful poetry in the Prologue of John begins. The revelation of the Word becoming flesh is full of truth. Truth is what Jesus is. And this is the truth that bonds us together as the beloved community.
Of course, this doesn’t seem to be especially important when we are talking about caring for creation or going green. Its life we’re concerned about today – the life of creatures on this planet, the life of our forests and our skies, the health of our seas and the threat of our changing climate that affects all forms of life.
So, let’s get upset about that for a moment. Let’s get outraged at the devastation of life in our world. The changing climate has caused “[a]verage temperatures in the Arctic region [to rise] twice as fast as they are elsewhere in the world.” This was news in 2005 –but, not so anymore. Now it’s hard to miss this startling statistic. And yet, we’re only just beginning to pay attention.
The Climate Change Institute at the University of Maine is in the midst of a project to assess how this affects Maine. That report isn’t due until November. But, we don’t need to wait for their results. We already know that the report is grim.
We are already seeing the effects in our world: more droughts, more disease, species extinction and flooding. And these effects will only continue to “increase the lack of food, shelter and [clean] water” in our global community. There is good reason to be upset about this – especially if we dare to claim these words:
I am the way and the truth and the life.
In these words, we’re rejecting that drought, disease and flooding must be the way of our world.
We do this in our way – with words. But, for us, they are not just words. We know that it’s not enough to say: “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” or even “I drive a hybrid” (which by the way, I do). What matters for us in the beloved community is how those words affirm our relationship to God, to Jesus and to each other. We’re not trying to fit in with the Empire. We’re not saying these words because it’s suddenly popular to care about the risks of climate change. We dare to use our language in a particular way because we are a particular people.
We are claiming life because we are people of the truth. The very thing that bonds us together is the same thing that brings us into the hope of new life. Our relationships are supposed to offer this new life – as Jesus offered to Nicodemus, Lazarus and the even the Woman at the Well. The bread we eat gives life. Not just a burst of energy but the kind of bread where no one will be hungry or thirsty again. This is the Bread of Life. This is the kind of surreal and awesome life that Jesus gives – and it is the life that we are supposed to share.
It’s not the way of the Empire. Politically, ideologically, and perhaps even economically, this is our way. In all things, we seek life. Not violence or destruction. Not erosion or devastation. We seek life for all creatures and people. We seek life for our world.
And even though we hold before us a bulletin insert with 20 things we can do to go green, we still find ourselves asking Thomas’ question: “How can we know the way?” How can we know how to impact change? How can we know how to alter the reality of the melting polar ice caps? Yes, Lord, how can we know the way?
This is why I love the Gospel of John. It’s poetry. You are not supposed to take it literally. Jesus knows we are angry and outraged. Jesus isn’t deaf to Thomas’ question. He hears it and he attempts to answer it – in fact, he already had.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled,” he said. Jesus knows that there is plenty to outrage us – then and now. As the climate rises degree by degree, there is enough in this world that rejects both life and truth. Jesus knows that it is hard to find a way around this. But, it’s poetry. You’re not supposed to suddenly feel at ease about the changing climate. And still, Jesus says: “Believe in God, and believe also in me.”
It’s a non-answer – which is probably why both Thomas and Philip appear baffled. Jesus doesn’t answer our anger and our outrage anymore than he answered theirs. It’s not the solution.
But, this is why I love the Gospel of John. Jesus uses words in a particular language in a particular way for a particular people. So he gives the disciples a bunch of words to remind them of their commitment. Commitment to God, to each other and to the world.
Commitment like the church school kids at First Congregational UCC of Sonoma, California. As part of their congregation’s earth covenant, the kids have been leaving notes on the bicycles of their neighbors with a particular language used in a particular way by a particular people. Their commitment assures the those that have found an alternative mode of transportation:
“We know who you are, and you’re a rock star.”
These kids don’t sound like social deviants. But, in their notes to bikers in Sonoma, these church school kids have found their own poetic language to proclaim their faith that the world can change. They don’t need to accept things as they are. They have found the right words to affirm their relationship to God, each other and the world. This is our way. This is the way to truth and life.