So Long, Farewell, You Got This

John 17:6-19

“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. While I was with them, I protected them in your name that you have given me. I guarded them, and not one of them was lost except the one destined to be lost, so that the scripture might be fulfilled.

“But now I am coming to you, and I speak these things in the world so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. I am not asking you to take them out of the world, but I ask you to protect them from the evil one. They do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world.

“Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you have sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sakes I sanctify myself, so that they also may be sanctified in truth.”

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‘Tis the season for goodbyes … and farewells … and “so longs” … graduation season, I mean. Yesterday, I got to offer the Invocation and the Benediction at the commencement ceremony for my alma mater – Capital University, over in Columbus, Ohio. It always brings back all sorts of memories to be on that campus and yesterday, for graduation, was no different – maybe even a little more poignant – to reflect on what all of that meant for me 28 years ago. (I would have bet a million dollars I wouldn’t be the one offering the Invocation or Benediction at a Capital commencement back then. And none of my friends would have taken that bet, either.)

Well, it’s not an Invocation, or a Benediction, or anything like a commencement address, but we call what we hear from Jesus this morning part of his “Farewell Discourse” – his own sort of “goodbye” and “so long,” if you will. Jesus was readying himself for the cross, for his death, for his resurrection, and for his ascension into heaven, too. And all of that gives these prayerful last words some heft, some weight, and some poignancy of their own.

And, even though he knew what was coming for himself – all of that suffering and death, I mean – Jesus’ greatest concern was for his family and friends. He wants to entrust them to God’s care. He wants them to be protected, to be guarded, to be safe. He wants them to know joy; to be “sanctified in the truth” as he puts it. He wants them to go about their lives – in the world, but not of the world – fulfilling their call as children of God. And so he prays these heartfelt, passionate words of love and concern and hope for his people – for his disciples, for these children of God he’s been walking alongside and raising up in the faith until now.

It’s why this prayer from Jesus – as all over the place and stream-of-consciousness as it seems – is perfect for a day like today when I feel like my words have too much ground to cover, in too little time. For one thing Mother’s Day is on the hearts and minds of many of us today. We will also celebrate the confirmation of a handful of our young people as they affirm the promises of their baptism this morning. Plenty of you are getting ready for the end of another school year and for graduations of your own. And many in our community are grief-stricken over the loss of little Sammy Teusch, the 10 year-old 4th grader who took his own life last week over in Greenfield. Like I said, there’s just too much ground to cover and not nearly enough time for all of it.

One of the most meaningful ways I’ve heard motherhood described before, is that the choice to have a child is to decide forever to let your heart go walking around outside of your body. There’s a lot of letting go, relinquishing, and surrender – there’s a lot of faith, then – in the act of living life as a mother. And it seems that’s something like what God did in Jesus – to set the divine free in the world; to put God’s very self at risk; to let the very heart of the almighty leave the safety of heaven’s protection and go walking around in the realm of brokenness that is the world as we know it.

So I think Jesus’ “famous last words” of love, his petitions of hope, his prayers of concern and for the protection for his people, have a lot to say to us still, no matter what it is that brings us here. I think Jesus is so earnest as he prays, because he knows he’s going; that he’s about to leave his friends, his family, his disciples to their own devices – he’s about to let his children … his heart – go walking around in the world without him, and he’s more than a little concerned about what might come of that.

Don’t most of us know something about what he’s feeling? Haven’t we been on one end of this sort of surrendering at some point – whether it was sending your child off to their first day of kindergarten or moving them into their college dorm for the first time? Maybe it was walking your daughter down the aisle on her wedding day.

Maybe it had nothing to do with children at all. Was it kissing a loved-one goodbye before the nurse wheeled them off to surgery? Was it “farewell” to a friend who moved away or “goodbye” to a co-worker or to a career of your own, even? Maybe it was the final goodbye to someone you knew you’d never see again, or even a goodbye that didn’t happen in time, because no one saw it coming.

I imagine Jesus has something like all of that – and more – in mind with his prayer. This loving surrender and letting go with all kinds of hope and faith and some measure of fear, too, for what was to come for those he was leaving behind. Would they remember what he taught them? Would they keep the faith? Did they know how much they were loved? Were they up to the challenges that would come their way? Were they ready for the hard choices, the setbacks, the let-downs, the disappointments, the failures, the risks, the heartbreak they might face?

Because life in the world is risky. For Jesus it led to the cross. For the rest of us, it can mean all sorts of sadness and struggle. There is sickness out here in the real world. There is disease and disaster and dying. There are accidents and addictions. There are broken relationships and unfulfilled dreams. There are bullies and despair and suicide, for crying out loud.

And all of this is what we set our children loose into – not just on the day of their confirmation – or at their graduation – but every morning when we put them on the bus or hand them the keys to the car or send them off to college, to their first job, their first date, to be married, whatever. And all of it is what God sends each of us into, just the same, as people on the planet at some time … in one way or another.

As I watched all of those college graduates marching around at commencement from my perch on the dais yesterday, I thought about all of the moms and dads, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and more – beaming with so much pride, hope, joy, and some measure of worry and concern too, I imagine – as they watched their hearts go marching around in caps and gowns and on to whatever is next. And I thought about little Sammy Teusch’s mom and dad, too, who’s heart left that one last time, shattered, and won’t ever be the same again.

And that’s why Jesus’ prayer matters for us. It reminds us that his words and his ways are of God – and that ours can be, too. We are reminded that we belong to something bigger than ourselves – something more than we can see on this side of the grave. We are reminded that we are one with the rest of God’s good creation. In spite of the differences and the divisions the world might try to impose upon us – we are one – bound together by the love and grace and mercy of our Creator.

And because of that, with Jesus’ blessing, encouragement, and holy example … we can do this, people. We can go about our lives in this world – afraid and uncertain and sad and overwhelmed more often than we’d like; but hopeful, anyway – as God intends – with faith and love to carry on in spite of the heartbreak; with faith and love to share, because of the heartbreak.

We are called, you and I … as baptized children of God … to be the very heart of God walking around in the world, doing justice, loving kindness, sharing grace and mercy and peace and goodness, so that Jesus’ prayers will be answered – for us and for the sake of the world God so loves.

Amen

Another Advocate

John 14:15-21

[Jesus said,] “If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him because he abides with you, and he will be in you. “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me, and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

Jesus is having dinner with his closest friends for the last time. It’s like he’s on his deathbed and is trying to tell them all the things they need to know before he’s gone: final instructions, things to prepare for when he’s gone, things to instill any hope that might survive seeing their friend hung on a tree and placed in a tomb. So Jesus washed their feet, telling them that this life they are called to, the mission before them is not about being better than someone else or gaining power, but humbly serving any and all people.

The disciples likely appeared confused by Jesus’ strange act of service, so Jesus tried to spell it out plainly for them by giving a simple, new commandment: “love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another”. It’s as if Jesus is saying, this is what’s most important, of all the teachings, all the lessons, all the miracles and signs I’ve done thus far, this is what matters most: love. Loving others just as I have loved you.

At about this time, the disciples are catching on to the fact that Jesus is trying to tell them something that is really hard and really important. They began questioning Jesus, “where are you going? Why can’t we go too, we’ve gone everywhere with you for three years now”.

Jesus tried to give them some reassurance in our reading from last week, “Trust me, there is plenty of room in my Father’s house and I’ll prepare a place for you. You’ll join me eventually, you already know the way there!”

None of this is making sense to the disciples, so, as Pastor Mark pointed out last week, they start to ask questions that only show they're not getting it. You can imagine the worry wrangling their faces. It makes me wonder if throughout the course of this dinner, if Jesus stopped and said to himself, “they just aren’t getting it. They are confused and anxious. What is it I need to tell them, what do they need to hear…”

Put yourself in the disciples shoes… At this dinner, their closest friend is trying to tell them that something awful, but necessary, is about to happen. This person who had been their guide showing them where to go, their teacher telling them how to live and love, their comforter in the midst of the grief, the leader and co-worker in the mission they’ve shared: he’s been their confidant, their companion, their encourager; he’s fed them, protected them, he’s been their help in times of need. He’s been their advocate; And now he’s leaving.

Maybe you know what that feels like, to have lost someone who played such a vital role in your life? To be told that this person would be with you no longer? What did you need to hear from them? Or what do you wish they said that gave some hope for life after them?

I imagine Jesus asked himself these questions and what he settled on is what we hear in today’s gospel reading.

He starts by saying again, what is most important, to keep his commandment, that commandment that's simple to understand, yet not at all simple to do, love one another as Jesus did. It’s hard to tell though if he is pleading or more demanding here. Each of us might hear that line differently. Regardless of how you hear it, you don’t take lightly the instructions someone gives on their deathbed.

Jesus knows this and he knows that his disciples will try to keep this commandment and love as he did. They’ll try to follow his teachings and share them. They will try to be a guide to others, comforters to those grieving, leaders of this mission; all the things that Jesus was, they will try to be.

But Jesus also knows that they would fail. That no matter how hard they would try or how determined and impassioned they were, they’d fall short of being the advocate for others that Jesus was for them. And for anyone who has tried to do that or be that, this comes as no surprise.

Fortunately, Jesus follows up this plea or command with a promise, a gift that would lessen their worry, ease their anxiety, and give them hope for the rough times ahead: another Advocate. “God will give you another Advocate, the Holy Spirit, to be with you forever”. Now this is not the same Advocate; the Holy Spirit and Jesus are not the same. But we know they are a lot alike because both are advocates. Which means the Holy Spirit will also be a Helper, a comforter, a protector; someone who stands up for them in their need; one who gives them words and a voice, one who helps and walks beside them when no one else will, just like Jesus was.

And to give even more reassurance, this advocate will be with the disciples forever, not leaving them orphaned, but rather giving them Jesus real presence to dwell inside them all the rest of their days. Is there anything more or better or hopeful or grace-full than that promise? A promise that Jesus has already made good on.

But you might say, “how do I know Jesus gave the Holy Spirit to us? I’ve never seen it… Jesus never breathed on me like he did the disciples”? Well, I would ask, have you seen someone give food to another who’s hungry? Or water to those who are thirsty? Have you seen someone stand up for people who are looked down upon? Or act justly and generously to those who are poor? Have you heard someone use their voice to cry out for those who can’t cry out? Or work to heal and comfort the sick?

Then you have seen the Holy Spirit! Whenever you see someone being an advocate for someone else, that’s the Holy Spirit at work helping people love like Jesus. And if that’s ever been you, then be assured that our Advocate abides in you, just as Jesus promised.

On this mother’s day, it is right to lift up or remember the women and mothering figures in our own lives who act or have acted as advocates: This morning I think of Ann Jarvis, the mother who inspired Mother's day. Ann was an activist and community organizer from West Virginia.

She had an ardent passion for meeting the needs of her community. In 1858, Ann began Mothers’ Day Work Clubs that focused on improving health and sanitary conditions for women and families. These clubs spread throughout Appalachia, providing assistance and education to families, raising money for medicine that poorer families couldn't afford. She visited households on horseback, going to places few others were willing to, to see if she could help reduce diseases and infant mortality, problems that plagued the region.

When the Civil War broke out, Jarvis gathered teams of women to provide medical and spiritual aid to any and all soldiers. After the war, when her community was fraught with conflict, Jarvis became a peacekeeper and reconciler, holding Friendship Days for the mothers of soldiers from both sides of the war. And throughout her entire life, Ann was a devout Methodist committed to not only teaching Sunday School, but teaching others how to teach Sunday School.

Ann was an advocate to countless other mothers and women; she protected them, taught them, tended to them when they were ill, fed them when they were hungry, and did whatever she could to love like Jesus. Brunch and flowers and what not are great, but celebrating the real spirit of mother’s day is being an advocate like Ann and caring for those for whom no one else is.

Who are we advocates for here at Cross of Grace? Who do we stand behind, speak up for, walk beside, or for whom should we? Who’s been that person for you? Give thanks for them today, and then go be that advocate for someone else. Amen.