John 14:15-21
“Goodbye,
Jesus?”
In the play,
“Romeo and Juliet”, William Shakespeare wrote, “Parting is such sweet sorrow” But
that phrase has lived on in our cultural lexicon. We acknowledge that saying goodbye can be a
difficult thing.
Whether it’s
a High School graduate heading off to college. A good friend who retires and
moves to somewhere with cooler weather. Or putting that child on the school bus
for the very first time. These kinds of partings are such sweet sorrow, a
mixture of emotions. Even though you'll miss your loved one, there is a joy for
their new venture, or phase of life.
But then
there are those goodbyes that are not bittersweet, but simply bitter. Getting
fired from a job you love. The couple who divorces after years of marriage. Or
perhaps the worst goodbye of all, death itself. And worst among those, an
untimely death. A soldier who goes off to war, and dies, leaving behind a wife
and family. A teenager who dies in a car accident the week before prom. Some of
the most difficult goodbyes are those we don't expect, and out of which no good
seems to come.
In this
section of John’s Gospel, Jesus is saying goodbye to his disciples. He is
preparing them, by his words, for his departure. He spoke of that departure –
his “exodus” - on the Mount of
Transfiguration with Moses and Elijah. He spoke openly about it with his
disciples, telling them just what was to come. “The Son of Man is going up to
Jerusalem, and he will be handed over to the chief priests and the teachers of
the law, and he will be crucified...” The Gospels say he spoke plainly about
this. Jesus was going away.
But what
sort of departure will this be? Will it be a hopeless goodbye? A senseless
tragedy? Or will there be, behind the sorrow, a cause for hope, even joy?
Last week,
at the beginning of John 14, we heard about how he would be going to prepare a
place for us in the many rooms of the Father’s house. He promised to come back and take us to be
with him there. And he showed himself to
be the way to the Father, the only way, the truth, and the life.
Still, he’s
going away, at least in some sense.
In today’s reading
from the next part of the chapter, Jesus' words hold out a promise. “I will not
leave you as orphans”. Let’s dwell on
this for a moment.
What's a
worse goodbye than seeing your parents die and leave you behind? What's a more
hopeless situation than to be an Orphan?
Perhaps you
remember Little Orphan Annie, and her “hard knock life” in the orphanage. No family.
No tenderness and concern. No one to tuck her in bed or buy her Christmas
gifts. But then the story turns when she is adopted by the wealthy Daddy
Warbucks, and her whole life goes from rags to riches.
In a way,
we've always been orphans. But cut off from our Father by the sin of our own
choosing. There was the beginning of all sad goodbyes. What a bitter departure
it must have been for Adam and Eve to leave the garden. Not just because it was
a beautiful paradise, but it meant leaving the place where they walked with
God.
Since then,
in our fallen nature, we've all been on the outside, looking in. Our sinfulness
estranges us from our Lord, and in it, we are dead to him. And every time you,
personally, sin, it's as if you say to God, “drop dead, Dad.” Every time you
tread all over the commandments you drive a wedge between yourself and the Holy
One. We live as if God truly has left us, and we’ve rebelliously struck out, entirely
on our own.
We need repentance.
We need forgiveness.
But Jesus
takes us from our orphanage of sin, our hard-knock life of suffering and death,
and brings us to the mansions of heaven where he has prepared a place for us.
He comforts us, even now, with that promise, and with his constant word. Even
better, he sends his Spirit who helps us to remember, and to believe in all he
has said. And by his grace alone do we live as children of God here in the
world.
So no, those
who are in Christ won't remain orphans, though now their Lord would be going
away for a while. He promises them that even in this departure there would be
hope and blessing. He promises them the Holy Spirit. The Helper. The Spirit of
Truth. He would help the disciples to remain in the truth, and remember all his
commands and promises. And Jesus himself would give them life – because of his
life. For even though he was about to die, he would soon rise to life forever.
And his resurrection means our resurrection. So there is hope.
And in this
departure that is quickly coming, the world will see him no longer, but he
promises, “you will see me”. And this is the paradox wrapped in an enigma.
Jesus is going, but he is staying. He won't be seen, but he will be seen. He is
dying, but he will live and so will his disciples. He is going to the Father,
but he will be with you always, even to the end of the age.
This
Thursday, the Christian church marks the Ascension of our Lord. For the last
few years, we’ve been offering a Divine Service to He would rise to the heavens
in the sight of his apostles. But this wasn't the end either. Now seated in his
rightful glory at the throne of God, and the Father's right hand, Jesus rules
all things for the good of his people, the church. But even this isn't the end.
He will
return, and take us to be with him. Whether that return happens when you pass
through the gate of death – or should we all live to see the last day when he
comes again in glory – Jesus will not leave us forever. And yet even though
he's gone, he is here, among us, in his word, by his Spirit. In our baptism,
and at our altars.
And in the
meantime, let us not put aside what else Jesus talks about here – loving God
and keeping his commandments. These are
the implications of the Christian life, the necessary expression of the faith
that clings to his promises. Christians
who are no longer orphans, but adopted into God’s family, cannot help but to
love God and keep his commandments.
Oh, the
flesh in us will say otherwise, the flesh will kick and scream and exert his
selfish will. But the flesh is not all
that is in us. We have the Spirit. The Holy Spirit of God who dwells with us and
in us. And that is no small thing.
It is by
that Spirit that we can (and do!) keep God’s commandments – first to love him,
and then to love our neighbor. Notice
this is less a command and more a promise:
If you love me, you will (YOU WILL!) keep my commandments! The new Adam in us walks before God in
righteousness, even while the old Adam clings to sin and death. Here is a mystery that can only be
apprehended by faith, and words of Jesus that ring true, even when appearances
seem to the contrary.
There are
times when we feel orphaned. Alone in the world. Like even God can't understand
our suffering. Maybe especially when we have to say the bitter goodbyes. But
for the Christian, there is hope and even joy in such goodbyes.
Or to put it
another way: with Christ, there really is no goodbye, only a “see you later.”
For Christians, there is the same. We keep his commandments as we walk in love
with Christ and also with the Father. We
look forward to the grand reunion of eternity with all the saints in heaven.
And especially with our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. God will not forsake
us. He has already forsaken Christ on the cross. Our sins won't make him hate
us, he's already poured out his wrath on Jesus. For us, adopted children of the
heavenly Father, there is only love and comfort and peace. There is an eternal
home. There are loving arms of embrace. Even to eternity, in Jesus Christ our
Lord. Amen.
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