John 15:26-27; 164b-15

Jesus continued… ”When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who comes from the Father, he will testify on my behalf. You also are to testify because you have been with me from the beginning.

But I have said these things to you so that when their hour comes you may remember that I told you about them. “I did not say these things to you from the beginning, because I was with you. But now I am going to him who sent me; yet none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your hearts.

Nevertheless I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you.

And when he comes, he will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgment: about sin, because they do not believe in me; about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer; about judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned.

“I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come.

He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.

For the fourth week in a row, we are still in Jesus’ farewell discourse, a long farewell to his disciples. In my mind, it's similar to our midwestern goodbye. You must know what I mean. It starts off with a loud “welp” to initiate the process, followed by saying goodbye in the living room, again at the front door, and then a final goodbye in the driveway with conversation at each point along the way. And believe me, I am not knocking the midwest goodbye! If anything I do it pretty well! And I think we do this long process because saying goodbye is hard.

Finding the right words, the right tone, it’s all hard. Shakespeare was certainly right, “Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Leaving brings pain and yet at the same time rouses a sense of hope and anticipation of coming together again. In his goodbye to the disciples, Jesus says, “I tell you the truth; it is to your advantage that I go away”. When someone is saying goodbye, I don’t think we necessarily always want the truth. The truth can be unnerving, shocking even. Like when someone’s going back for surgery you don’t say, “Well the truth is I might not ever see you again”. That’s not helpful or comforting in any way. We would much rather have a promise, “I’ll be right here when you get back”.

Here, however, Jesus gives the disciples both. The truth is, it is better for you that I go away. And here we should pause. How can it be better that Jesus go away? For many, if not most, people in the Christian tradition, closeness to Jesus is the most important thing. We long to be close to Jesus, to be in a relationship with Jesus.

And we wait with great anticipation for Jesus' return, for the time when he will once again be close in a physical, incarnate way as he was. Being far away, separated from Jesus then would be the worst thing for our faith. Why then, is it to the advantage of the disciples that Jesus goes away? And is that to our advantage too? How can Jesus saying goodbye be a good thing?

This is the house I grew up in. Last weekend I walked barefoot in the yard, pushed my son on the swingset I had when I was his age, and pulled out of the driveway for the last time. After 33 years, my parents sold the house and our family said goodbye to the house and land we called home for all those years. It was the place of birthday parties and barbecues, arguments and reconciliations, and too many firsts to name. On that land we planted a garden and trees and a family and were nourished by the fruits of it all. Whenever I moved away, it was the place I knew I could always return to for a meal at the table, a bed, and fireball in the freezer. It was the best home a family could have.

If my parents had stayed, they would have been bound to take care of the yard. They would have been the farthest house away in our family. They would have collected more stuff (and there was no more space in the hoarder closest). All of that, in one way or another, would have limited them on how they spent their time and what they could do. Was it hard to say goodbye? Yes. But we reminded each other of the good things this meant for not only my parents, but for our family. They are now closer to more family and are the meeting place in between all the grandkids.

Now weekends can be less mowing, weeding, or mulching and more camping. Moving brought downsizing and getting rid of stuff that had accumulated over 3 decades. Saying goodbye will hopefully give my parents a freedom they have not known for quite some time and could not have had if they stayed. The promises of moving outweighed the good of staying. And that right there, helps me understand just a bit more of how Jesus’ leaving was not only to the advantage of the disciples, but for us too.

It is easy for us to overlook the fact that when Jesus was on earth, he was human, fully human. He had a body just like you and I, which means he had limitations, just like you and I. We see these limitations throughout his ministry: he grows tired and takes naps; he gets hungry and thirsty; he can’t be there for everyone who needs him, like when his friend Lazuras died. Jesus was constrained by the physical and spacial limits that come with being incarnate, with having a body, and with being human.

We know what it's like to have limitations too: limits to what our bodies can do and what our minds can understand. There are only so many relationships we can balance, stress we can handle, or fear we can face. And while it may seem like the way to overcome a limit is to work harder or to push past it, Jesus shows us that it’s quite the opposite.

The truth in this goodbye is that Jesus must leave. But the promise in this goodbye, the promise of Pentecost, is that Jesus will give all disciples the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Helper. Which means Jesus is no longer limited to a body. Instead, as the Holy Spirit, Jesus would be at work in multiple people, in multiple places, all at the same time. And where one part of the Trinity is at work, there the entirety of the Trinity (Father, Son, and Holy Spirit) is at work also. In other words, as one Rob Saler puts it, “When you get the Spirit, you get all of Christ.”

Here’s one example of how that’s good news for us. Today is First Communion Sunday for 11 of our young partners in mission. They spent a Saturday morning with me learning what this meal is, and what it does. One of, if not the hardest thing to explain, is that as Lutherans we believe that Jesus is really present in the bread and wine at communion. That’s what makes this regular bread and wine special, Jesus is truly “in, with and under the bread.”

It’s not that the bread becomes Jesus' body as in you get a piece of a finger or part of the leg when you eat the bread. That’s not how this works. Because Jesus is no longer limited to a body, to being human, Jesus, by way of the Holy Spirit, is really present at this table and every table, wherever people are gathered to eat bread and drink wine in remembrance of him, giving us love and grace and forgiveness, here and now.

Jesus knew that the answer to his limitation meant saying goodbye to the disciples, to his friends. But, ironically, only in his leaving would he be able to come closer not only to the disciples, but to all people in every land.

We too have limitations and must say goodbye to some things in order to be who we are called to be, and to do what we are called to do. Maybe it's time to make that move, quit that job, end that relationship, drop that grudge, let go of your pride, or money, or fear. I’m not saying it’s easy.

Goodbyes are hard. But Jesus gives us the Holy Spirit, an Advocate, a Helper to guide us in whatever comes after the goodbye. All that you will need for this new life, for life after the goodbye, the Spirit will give: strength in our weakness, prayers when we have none, and comfort along the way.

That’s the promise of Pentecost.

Amen.

John 20:19-23

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors were locked where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

When Katelyn and I lived in New Jersey, we fell in love with Pennsylvania Dutch markets. Often hidden in unassuming strip malls, these vibrant markets were full of different vendors selling the most delicious food. The one closest to us was only open three days a week so we didn’t get to go often, but we loved it when we got the chance. We’d grab a few items we’d need for the week and on the way out, get one very special treat: a pretzel log. We’d watch as they rolled the dough, stuffed them with all sorts of unhealthy goodness, and placed them in the oven, our mouths watering the whole time.

One day after helping a friend move, I was near the market and swung in for lunch. Instantly the smell of a pretzel log, overflowing with cheese and bacon, lured me to the booth. I bought two logs with good intentions: I would eat mine now and have Katelyn’s waiting for her when she woke up to go to work. Well I ate mine on the way home.

And then by some irresistible force, the second pretzel log called out to me. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. I tore into that other pretzel, polishing it off faster than the first, left the bag on the counter and proceeded to study with a full belly. Later that day when Katelyn woke up for work, a night shift nurse at the time, solely supporting us through seminary, she saw the bag. She asked if I went to the market and if so why I didn’t bring her back something. A rush of guilt came over me. I told every excuse I could think of. I didn’t know what you would want. I wasn’t sure if they had what you liked. But she saw through my every excuse. She picked up the bag, put it in the trash, and simply said, “we both know you’re wrong, but I forgive you.”

The resurrected Jesus says to his disciples, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained”. For most of us, forgiveness is a nice idea. It’s something we want to practice, but it’s also really hard. And, if we are honest, we don’t always know what it is or how to do it. Forgiveness is not just forgetting what took place. We don’t suddenly stop remembering the hurt that happened to us nor should we.

We may pretend to, but the harm will reappear, likely causing as much hurt as the first time around. Forgiveness isn’t wrapping ourselves in bandages of time, waiting until the wounds have scarred. Sometimes that can help, but there is hurt we can cause or receive that time alone cannot heal. Forgiveness requires more than just the passing of hours, days, or years.

And forgiveness isn’t merely the words, “I forgive you”; it requires action on the part of both the forgiver and the sinner.

So back to the pretzel log story. It sounds like such a small example, but here she was working night shift, supporting her husband so he can go to class and read and write papers 24/7,

and he took from her the one thing that would have brightened up her day just a little bit on her way to a job she did not like. Yet, she didn’t scold me, or punish me, or demand I get her another pretzel log, all things she was in the right to do.

Instead, She gave up those rights, which is the first action required in forgiveness. And after she gave up her rights, she gave notice of my sin. “We both know you're wrong”, she said to me in a calm, almost sly, manner. She didn’t pile on the guilt or yell, “how dare you eat the pretzel log you bought with my money!” which was true! She simply told me what I did was wrong; the second action of forgiveness.

Finally, she gave me a gift, namely love when I didn’t deserve it and expected nothing in return.

Like a tool, she used forgiveness to put back together our fractured relationship that I had severed with my selfish sin. And that’s what forgiveness is: giving up rights, giving notice, and giving gifts; A tool that rebuilds a broken relationship.

We see and experience this forgiveness best in Jesus Christ. Becoming fleshing, he gave up his rights, as Ephesians 2 says “he emptied himself taking the form of a slave, assuming human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death - even death on a cross”.

And it’s there on the cross that he gave notice of our sins because that’s what put him there; his full of mercy and justice and love, shows the depth of sin in and around us. And yet, from the cross and in his resurrection he gave gifts: gifts of grace and hope and life eternal when we deserved none of it. “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do”. “As much as you could sin, so much did Jesus forgive you”. Always has. Always will.

Yet, some of us have experienced more serious sins than a stolen pretzel log; we’ve been hurt in ways or been hurt too many times, that we are unsure if we can forgive. After all, we aren’t Jesus. I agree with Walt Wangerin who said,

“This is the human predicament: we are able to sin infinitely against one another, but we are able to forgive only finitely. Left to ourselves alone, forgiveness will run out long before the sinning does [because] we are not able to forgive equal to another’s sinning - not when such giving must come solely from ourselves.”

Thankfully, forgiveness is not just a tool able to put ruptured relationships back together, but a power tool with a source of power that comes from outside of ourselves. “Receive the Holy Spirit”, Jesus said to his disciples as he filled their lungs with his very presence. That’s the power, the true source that enables us to forgive the sins of others. It’s the Holy Spirit, dwelling in you, that makes known Jesus’ limitless forgiveness for you; no matter the mistakes you’ve made, the choices you chose, or the hurt you’ve caused. Jesus is the well of forgiveness that never runs dry.

And once you know once you have experienced that balm for your sin sick soul, you also are able to share that forgiveness with your spouse, your friend, your parent, your child, your neighbor, and even your enemies. To be clear, when Jesus commissions the disciples and us to forgive or retain sins, he doesn’t make us divine agents able to produce forgiveness that reconciles a relationship between someone else and God. Only Jesus does that and it’s already been done. That’s why during the absolution in worship the pastor “declares” your forgiveness;

I get to tell you the good news, but it’s Christ who’s actually done the work.

The forgiveness that Jesus commissions the disciples for, and us for, is the forgiveness that reconciles relationships between individuals. There are other types of forgiveness that are different, such as forgiveness between races or institutions or nations; but that’s another sermon for another time.

For this sermon, it's enough to say that like the disciples, we too have been given what we need to forgive. But whether we do it or not, whether we forgive or retain is up to us. And the good news, or bad news depending on how you look at it, is that ultimately God forgives all the sin and reconciles all things to God’s self anyway, whether it’s in this life or the life to come. So why retain them?

Instead, offer a pretzel log, use that power tool of forgiveness, and repair what’s been broken.

Hard Goodbyes and Pentecost Promises

Pretzel Logs and a Power Tool