Sixth Sunday in Easter
Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

John 15: 9–17
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

This morning, I suspect we have more in common with the congregation for whom John wrote his Gospel than we know.  For just as we are struggling to worship God in this time of pandemic, when nothing yet is entirely back to normal and we are still cautious about gathering together, still cautious about singing or taking Communion together, so they were having trouble following Jesus’ commands when nothing – absolutely nothing — had gone the way they thought it would.
You see, the Gospel of John was written well after the synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke.  By the end of the first century in the community for whom John wrote, Jesus was only a memory — and a distant memory at that.  Most of the people in that congregation had never met him.  And nearly all of his disciples had died.  When the Temple in Jerusalem was destroyed by the occupying Roman legions in 76 AD, many believers took that as a sure sign that the end times had begun and Jesus would soon come back for them. . .  in power and great glory.  But the end times had not come. . .  and Jesus hadn’t come back either.  Instead, life just went on – and in some ways that was the hardest part of all, especially because these early Christians now had both Roman and Jewish authorities to contend with.  This little congregation felt fragile and insecure.  They very much wanted to hear once again from their Lord.
In response, John pulled together many of the things Jesus had said on that last night he had spent with his disciples in the Upper Room, and he put them into one extended discourse towards the end of his Gospel.  We heard part of this discourse in last week’s Gospel passage, and we are hearing more of it this morning.  We have come to call this collection of sayings The Farewell Discourse, and it is a bit like The Last Lecture Series in some colleges, where professors are asked what they would say in a lecture if they knew it was their last chance to speak.
What Jesus tells his disciples that evening is that he is going away, but he adds quickly that he will not leave them orphaned.  For, you see, he knows that things will be challenging for them in days to come.  He knows he’s asking a lot when he calls on them to love one another – at a time when they want comfort and reassurance themselves.  So he tells them he will ask the Father to send them a different Advocate, whom he calls the Spirit of Truth.  It’s in the strength of that Spirit, he tells them, that they will be able to love one another as he has loved them.
That little detail – that they are to love one another as he has loved them is really the crux of this passage.  So this morning it is worth looking at how he does love them.  The Gospel tells us that Jesus loves them to the end.  That means he does not falter or turn away from them.  And, of course, what he does for them he does for us too.
In other words, he stays, he stays put — with us and for us — to the very end.  And when you think back to the events of that Maundy Thursday evening, you know it is true.  That is exactly what he did.  After that last supper with them and that long final conversation, he accompanies them across the Kidron Valley to the Garden of Gethsemane.  And there, knowing what is about to happen, he prays.  When the soldiers arrive to arrest him, the disciples scatter.  They run away.  But Jesus does not abandon them.  Nor does he forget them.  Even on the cross he is instructing the disciple he loved to take Mary, his mother, into the disciple’s own family.  And he is telling his mother to adopt that disciple as a son.  He loved them, you see, he provided for them to the end.
I think what that means for us is that we, too, are to stay put, trusting in the Lord.  In these uncertain times when we too are feeling fragile and uncertain, we are to stay with the people God has given us to love.  We are to nurture and be nurtured by those people.  We are to challenge them and be challenged by them – not in our own strength, but in the strength of the Spirit who teaches us how to love one another.  “The Spirit will keep us connected in love,”  Jesus told them: “You to me. . .  all of us to God the Father. . .  and you, each one to another.”  You see, no matter how uncertain our times are, by the strength of the Holy Spirit, those connections will be strong.
Barbara Lundblad, who is a Lutheran pastor, tells a funny story about the connections that bind us together in tough times. She says,
The reason mountain climbers are tied together is to keep the sane ones from going home.  Whoever said that was playing with us a bit, for we know mountain climbers are tied together to keep from getting lost or going over a cliff.  But there’s another piece of truth here.  When things get tough up on the mountain, when fear sets in, many a climber is tempted to say, “This is crazy!  I’m going home.“  The life of faith can be like that – doubts set in, despair overwhelms us, and the whole notion of believing in God seems crazy.  Jesus knew his disciples would have days like that.  So he told them, “We’re tied together like branches on the vine – or like climbers tied to the rope – tied together by the Spirit of God, to trust in the One who is always more than we can understand, who will keep us moving ahead on the journey of faith, who can encourage us when believing seems absurd.  I will not leave you orphaned,” Jesus said.  “I am coming to you.”
And that is what he does.  That is what we can expect.  We can expect the Lord to come to us — just as he came to Mary when she searched for him in the tomb, just as he caught up with the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, just as he found his disciples in Galilee where they had gone fishing and invited them to breakfast.  Where any two or three of us are gathered in his name, He has promised to be among us – calming our fears, reminding us of his love and asking us to do the same for the ones we live with.  For that is what his name – Immanuel – means.  It means ‘God is with us.’  It means that we are not alone.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
 
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