Sabbatical Send-Off

John 17:1-11

After Jesus had spoken these words, he looked up to heaven and said, “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.

“I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me is from you; for the words that you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me. I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world, but on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them.

And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.”

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Smarter people than me call this bit of John’s Gospel – and what we’ve been hearing in fits and starts the last couple of weeks, actually – they call it Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse.” There are chapters of it in the Gospel of John … these parting and final words of his before he heads off to his crucifixion. And it’s a prayer: intimate words, intended for God, the Father, but overheard, presumably, by someone close by with a notepad, apparently – possibly someone seated with him at the table of the Last Supper in that Upper Room, sometime before the Cross and Calvary and all of the ugliness he knew was waiting for him there.

I’m not expecting much ugliness in the next couple of months, but it seems like a thing that I get to reflect on Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse” as I prepare to take my Sabbatical leave for the summer. So…

1. First of all, perspective. I’m not Jesus so, while I know there’s some level of anxiety about my being gone for the summer, the weight of what Jesus is up to puts all of that into a different light and a healthier perspective, for all of us, I hope.

My time away will be lengthy, for sure. It’s more than three days, but it’s not quite 2,000 years, either. But still, lots of things can happen in your lives and in my life over the course of these summer months. It might be difficult to miss some of that – for me as much as for you, remember – but, kind of like Jesus, I have every intention of returning. I promise. I’ll be back.

2. Secondly, the point of it all for me. What I get to do is step away from being on call and on task and just plain “on,” in every way that that happens for a pastor – especially for a pastor in a busy, active, healthy, growing congregation like ours. I could try to describe what that looks like and feels like and really is like, here, but I won’t for a couple of reasons. A lot of you already understand that, for which I am grateful. Some of you might not believe it, if I tried to explain it. And others might think I was whining or complaining about my job – which is so very much not the case.

I love my work. And what’s more, I love my work in this place in ways I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t and couldn’t love my work anywhere else, at this point in my life.

But, as one of my friends who received the same grant once said, he felt like he had been running the same lap around the track with his ministry, after a time. He also said he felt like he was running out of magic tricks. If you all haven’t noticed that, or felt that, or wondered about that sort of thing around here, I’m glad and grateful for that, too. But I know what my friend means.

I’m looking forward, not so much to a break from the ministry I love and am still called to, but I’m looking forward to ways this time away means to refill the well of my creativity, enthusiasm and joy for what’s to come.

3. The point of it all for my family. The Havels have been on a physical, emotional, spiritual marathon the last couple of years. Christa’s cancer was icing on the same crappy COVID cake we all wrestled with. And I know so many of you have wrestled and struggled and suffered in your own ways, too, and I’ve been blessed to wrestle with you through some of that.

And I know all of this is relative. I’m not comparing or competing for biggest mole-hill or mountain, here. But one thing I’ve tried to learn these last couple of years is to take the same advice I have and would give to any of you – some of which is to say “yes” to the good and gracious stuff more often and more readily, because those opportunities can be fleeting … few and far between … and because we may not be able to make choices about them next week, or next year, or the next time they present themselves.

4. The point of it all for you – for us – and for our ministry together. Among other things we’ll be learning together … separately … these next few months about the hard, holy stuff of race, anti-racism and social justice. I’m so grateful that so many of you have signed up for the book studies that Francia Kissel and Pastor Cogan will lead. There are only three spots left for the Interrupting Racism workshops the renewal grant has made available, which is potentially life-changing for those who will participate. Pastor Cogan is planning a field trip to the Freedom Center in Cincinnati, with the youth this summer. And we have some amazing preachers lined up to inspire our worship throughout all of this time. You won’t want to miss hearing from them – and I’ll be praying that you don’t.

And, on a more general note, I hope you’ll look and pray and plan for ways to step up and to step into our life together in some new ways while I’m away. (Please pray about adding one new thing to your Time and Talent offerings for the year ahead, if you haven’t already.) Look for ways to show Pastor Cogan the ropes around here. And look for opportunities to receive, welcome and let him be our Pastor. He’s “the whole loaf of bread,” as Janis Janelsins used to say about me and we are lucky to have him among us. I’m not Jesus and he isn’t the Holy Spirit, but I’m not leaving you orphaned. You’re in good, capable, careful, faithful, pastoral hands. I believe it’s no coincidence that Pastor Cogan’s arrival coincides with my departure the way that it has and does and will.

5. And lastly, Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. There are congregations who resist and refuse the practice of Sabbatical for their pastors. It’s an expression of grace that’s too much for too many. It’s a gift that’s too generous for some to give – even when Eli Lilly is paying the bill. But it’s something we’ve made part of our life together because Sabbath is God’s command for God’s children … because we’ve experienced the blessing it brings to bear on our life together … and because it is an exercise in faith and grace and generosity and gratitude.

And, even though I’m proud to tell others about a congregation like ours that lets this happen, I receive your support and encouragement in all of it humbly … with deep gratitude … and I don’t take one bit of it for granted.

So my prayer for you – for me – for us – as I prepare to take my leave, is very much like Jesus’ prayer for his disciples – and his prayer for all of us, too. And it’s not just about the next few months, really, but about our life together well beyond this summer’s Sabbath time.

Mostly, Jesus prayed that his disciples – that we – would be one; that we would be united under a banner of grace and mercy; that we would have all the encouragement and power – all the faith and hope we need – to live together and do life together and carry out this ministry together, as God has called us to do, for the long haul.

It's more joy and responsibility than we deserve a lot of the time, but it is our call and our blessing. And it is God’s hope for us, as we live and work and seek to be a blessing of grace and good news for each other and for the sake of the world, in Jesus’ name.

Amen

"Dumb" Questions, Faithful Answers

John 14:1-14

[Jesus said,] “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me. 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. And if I go there to prepare a place for you, I will come again to take you to myself, so that where I am, there you will be also. And you know the way to the place that I am going.”

Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father, except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father, also. And from now on you do know him and you have seen him.”

Philip said, “Lord, show us the Father and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and still you do not know me? Whoever has seen me, has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father?’ Do you not believe that the Father is in me and that I am in the Father? These words that I say to you I do not speak on my own, but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and that the Father is in me. But if you do not, believe because of the works themselves.

“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. I will do whatever you ask in my name so that the Father might be glorified in the Son. If, in my name, you ask for anything, I will do it.”

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Since it’s NBA playoff season, I came across what is apparently a phenomenon in the world of the NBA post-game press conference: dumb questions, asked by sports writers of NBA players, after a game. There are compilations of them all over YouTube, but I found this one – kind of short and sweet – thanks to Jimmy Kimmel.

So, we’ve all heard, I suspect, that “there’s no such thing as a dumb question.” I’ve said it before, in classes and Bible studies and whatnot; to adults and kids; to other people’s kids and my own, I’m sure. And it’s mostly true. If they are genuine and heartfelt and curious, there really is no such thing as a dumb question. This is the way any good teacher should approach a student; how any mentor should engage a protégé; any guide should embrace a follower; any messiah should encourage a disciple, maybe. But some people – kids and adults alike – and apparently sports writers and reporters after an NBA basketball game – put that notion to the test? (I’m looking at every teacher who’s ever had a Class Clown in their midst. And anyone who’s ever been the Class Clown, too.) There really can be dumb questions waiting to surprise even the most patient teacher or player among us.

Anyway, I kind of wonder if Jesus wasn’t thinking something along these lines when he was being questioned by Thomas and Phillip in this morning’s Gospel. I’m not sure you could call them “Class Clowns,” but Jesus seems sort of surprised, if not exasperated … maybe even disappointed … by their questions.

Jesus offers up what seems to be a preconceived notion, a no brainer, something he expected they would have understood. He’s like, “And you know the way to the place where I am going.” But Thomas gives us our first hint about his doubting ways when he wants to know more. “Lord, we don’t know where you’re going. How can we know the way?” He wants a little more clarity, it seems. As is his way.

Phillip wants to see something else, too … something more, something different, something better than what he’s already witnessed. “Lord, show us the Father and we will be satisfied,” he asks. “Come on Jesus, just show us this ‘Father’ you’ve been praying to and talking about and that’ll do it. Just make it clear and we’ll know … it’ll all make sense … then we’ll be satisfied. That will finally make all the difference.”

And Jesus is like, “Guys. You’ve seen it. Don’t you know? Remember when I turned that water into wine? Remember when I drank from the well with that woman in Samaria? Remember when I saved the life of that boy who was sick and that time I helped that lame guy walk after 38 years? Remember when I turned that other kid’s lunch into a feast for 5,000 people? And when I stood up for that woman who was caught in adultery? When I gave that blind man his sight and raised Lazarus from the dead? Remember when I washed your feet, for crying out loud! Have I been with you all this time, Phillip, and still you don’t know me? You still Don’t get it? You still don’t understand? You still don’t see?

In Jesus, what had been invisible could now be seen. In Jesus, the power and presence of God showed up living and moving and breathing, in the world. In Jesus the divine who had here-to-for been unknown became knowable. In Jesus, so many of our questions turned into living, moving, breathing answers.

And the questions weren’t answered by well-crafted sermons, or by theological treatises; by Q & A sessions in between worship services, or with crystal balls, either. Jesus answered the questions of his day and age by all of that living and moving and breathing … by being in the world. I think this is why the disciples didn’t always get it and I think it’s why we miss the point sometimes, ourselves.

Questions about grace were answered when Jesus forgave the unforgivable and welcomed the outsiders others refused to make room for.

Questions about mercy were answered when Jesus healed the sick and shared bread with the hungry.

Questions about justice were answered when Jesus spoke out against the hypocrites and turned over tables in the temple; when he empowered women, welcomed children into his presence, and when he broke bread with outcasts and sinners.

Questions about love were answered by the cross and questions about God’s power over all things were answered by the empty tomb.

What I get out of today’s Gospel – and the questions the disciples raise – is not simple answers, which are always tempting and maybe what we’d prefer. What I get out of this morning’s Gospel is a different way of finding answers. Jesus didn’t sit around arguing about who might be right and who might be wrong. He didn’t debate the theological merits of the questions the disciples were asking. And Jesus didn’t shout the answers or scream the instructions IN. ALL. CAPS. from behind a keyboard, by way of a post on social media.

Jesus became the lessons his life was meant to teach. He practiced and personified the way, and the truth, and the life of faith everyone wanted to know more about.

Jesus didn’t just talk about grace – he extended it to anyone and everyone.

Jesus didn’t just offer up “thoughts and prayers” about justice – he worked for it.

Jesus didn’t just dream about mercy – he shared it.

Jesus didn’t just sit in worship or around tables to read and study God’s Word for his own benefit – he preached and proclaimed it; he passed it around and poured it out in the form of himself, like so much bread and wine, to whoever would receive it.

Jesus didn’t just preach about the love of God, I mean. He embodied it.

And that’s our call, too – for ourselves, for each other, and for the world around us.

This morning, we’re sharing “first communion” with some of our young people and we’re baptizing Clive Blackmon, too. Like Thomas and Phillip, these young people can and should come to us with all kinds of questions about the place and presence and power of God in their lives and in this world.

And I hope they will learn from all of us – not just by what we say and teach and preach, even – but by what they see, feel and experience about the lives of faith they witness among us. They will learn about grace by who and how we forgive one another. They will learn about generosity and sacrifice by why and how much we give of our time, our energy and our money, too. They will learn about justice and service by the work we do in the world. They will learn about love by those we welcome among us.

And so will we.

This can be hard, holy work, for sure. But Jesus promises that we’re up for it … that as believers we will do even greater works than his own. And I believe that, along the way, we will reveal and receive answers about our own faith – maybe even the ones we can’t always put into words – when we live and move and breathe as the very body of Christ – as the very love of God – as the very presence of the divine – in the world, and for the sake of the world, in the name of Jesus who showed us how to do it all in the first place.

Amen