April 27, 2008 – The Sixth Sunday in Easter
John 14:15-21
Grace and peace to you from God the Creator and the Lord Jesus. Amen.
Many notable figures populated the American music scene back in the 1950s and early 60s. One of them was named Jimmy Reed. Reed was the son of a Mississippi sharecropper, and at a very early age he took up the harmonica and the guitar. By the time he was in his middle teens it was clear that Jimmy was headed for a career in music. A few years later he packed up his harmonica and his guitar and headed north, to Chicago, and life as a musician. He also took with him the Mississippi Delta Blues. In fact, some credit Jimmy Reed with being the one to introduce Rhythm and Blues into the mainstream of American rock and roll.
Reed was notable for another quality as well: He could not remember the lyrics to his songs. He was great on the harmonica, great on the guitar; but for the life of him he couldn’t remember the words! Which is why, if you listen closely to recordings of Reed, you can hear, ever so faintly in the background, the soft voice of his wife, Mary Lee, as she whispered the lyrics to the songs into Reed’s ear just before he sang them himself.
“I will not leave you orphaned,” Jesus told his friends on that final evening, “but I will send you the Holy Spirit who will whisper the lyrics of the Gospel into your ear so that you will always – always – remember.”
I grew up in a fairly large extended family, so I learned early on that when it came to family gatherings, we had to start saying goodbye about 45 minutes before we actually had to be out the door. Have you had that experience? It took that long to see everybody, to speak to everybody. It didn’t make any difference if you had already spoken to them, you had to go back for a last few words, a goodbye.
There are 21 chapters in John’s Gospel, and five of them are taken up with Jesus saying farewell to his disciples. It took that long to cover everything, to sum up all that he had taught them. And they would need to remember. There were difficult days ahead, fearful days. Jesus was about to be betrayed by one of his closest friends; he would be arrested and killed; official persecution was about to descend on the tiny group of Jesus’ followers, and the community of believers would be pushed to the edge of despair. And despair, Jesus knew, could well do them in. They would need encouragement, hope, a way to keep on. So he called them together for one last Passover meal, one last teaching.
Sprinkled throughout those five chapters toward the end of John’s Gospel are a number of references to the Holy Spirit. Sometimes Jesus calls it the Advocate, like someone who stands next to you in a court of law and pleads your case; sometimes it’s the Helper; sometimes it’s the Spirit of Truth. But they all refer to the same Holy Spirit. “I am leaving you in my physical, temporary form,” Jesus says, “but I will come again in a form that is not temporary but permanent. Just as, back at the beginning of creation, God breathed life into lifeless clay to create the first human being, God will breathe the presence of me into you so that I will be with you – and in fact within you – forever.”
This Holy Spirit of which Jesus speaks has some primary functions, and he would address those functions in some verses following our lesson this morning. One of the functions of the Spirit would be to remind the disciples that, in Jesus’ words, “apart from me, you can do nothing.” (John 15:5c) Apart from the presence of the Spirit of Jesus, the Christian is literally power-less.
Richard J. Daly was mayor of Chicago for many years. Daly was known for his gruff personality and his ego the size of Illinois. One day one of his speech writers came into his office and asked for a salary increase. “You don’t need a pay raise,” Daly fumed. “And besides, it should be compensation enough, knowing you work for a great American hero like myself!” End of salary negotiations.
Two weeks later Daly was to give a speech to a group of veterans. Now, Daly was also famous for never reading his speeches before he actually gave them. So as he stepped to the podium to address a massive throng of veterans, he began, “My heart goes out to you veterans, I love you good people. We must do more to alleviate the problems faced by you brave men and women who have given so much to this great country. So today I’m announcing a 17-point plan that combines the resources of the City of Chicago, the State of Illinois and the federal government to make your lives better!”
All the veterans in the hall were on the edge of their seats, waiting to hear the details of this glorious, 17-point plan. Daly himself was curious. He turned to the next page, and these were the only words he saw: “You’re on your own now, you great American hero.”
Power in Christian living comes from acknowledging, submitting to and seeking out the presence of the Holy Spirit.
Another prime function of the Spirit is to, again in Jesus’ words, “teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.” (John 14:26b) In other words, “You don’t know everything yet because I haven’t taught you everything yet because in every generation there will be new questions to grapple with, new and complex issues to engage.”
Rosemary Radford Reuther is a church historian, and she maintains that there are two things that the Church – you and I – must do. The first is to pass on the tradition to every generation. Teach the story of Jesus to your children and your children’s children. The second thing the Church must do is to always be open to the winds of the Spirit by which that tradition comes alive in fresh and creative ways in every new generation. That’s how the Spirit of Jesus continues to be with us, continues to teach us.
When the disciples gathered for that final Passover with Jesus, they could not have imagined the questions and issues that would confront their spiritual descendants. Is the grace of God to be earned by following rules; or is that grace truly, literally free? Should nuclear weapons ever be used against an enemy? Should women who feel called by God be ordained into the ministry of the Church? Should homosexual persons be allowed to marry? In a global economy like ours, which in the last two weeks has seen food riots in major cities around the globe, what should be the faithful response on the part of the Church in speaking up and acting out on behalf of the poor?
We need the Spirit’s guidance and counsel, as Christians in every age have needed it. We have no idea what questions and issues our own spiritual descendants will confront; that same Spirit will be essential for them as well.
I recently heard a conference speaker define the life of faith – discipleship – as the dialogue between what I want and what the Spirit wants. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never experienced that dialogue as neutral. I know what I want and what I need, but God always seems to have a larger, more expansive agenda. And it’s in that tension between what we want and what God wants that we need the Spirit whispering the Gospel in our ear, to encourage us and draw us ever closer to God’s desires.
And when that happens, we should not be surprised if the eternal Spirit of the eternal God brings us into conflict with the temporary powers that rule this temporary world.
Just last week former President Jimmy Carter opened talks with leaders of the Hamas movement in the Middle East. Hamas is one of the many factions in the complex political structure of the Middle East. Both the American and Israeli governments have denounced Hamas as a terrorist organization and have refused to negotiate with the group; but it’s also clear that peace in the Middle East is not possible without its participation.
So President Carter initiated a dialogue with Hamas leaders, to see if there were any circumstances under which it would live peaceably with Israel. Carter made only slight, and possibly only symbolic, progress with his effort; but at the very least he showed that more-substantial progress is possible.
Both the U.S. and the Israeli governments immediately condemned Carter’s effort. “He’s meddling! He’s out of line! He’s not following policy!” But it was clear that this winner of the Nobel Peace Prize was not interested in following policy. Sometimes, when we move closer to God’s desires – in this case, God’s desire for peace – it requires stepping out of line.
In our life of faith, whether that life entails stepping out of line or not, we can be confident that we are connected to Christ by the same Spirit that connects us, one to another. Someone with a dry sense of humor once said that mountain climbers are tied together to keep the sane ones from going home. Now, we know that mountain climbers are tied together to prevent any individual climber from becoming disoriented, getting lost or going over the edge of a cliff.
But there’s another truth here as well. Up on the mountain, when the going gets tough, when fear sets in, it can be very tempting for a climber to say, “What in the world am I doing here? This is nuts! I’m going home!” The only antidote to that kind of fear is the security of knowing that all the climbers are firmly connected.
So it is with us in our life of faith. There are times when doubt sets in, when despair threatens to overwhelm; there are times when even the idea of believing in God can seem crazy. Jesus knew that his disciples would face times like those. That’s why he told us that we’re connected, like branches on a vine, connected to this same Spirit, so that we could trust the One who is always more than we can understand, this One who encourages us, urges us on, guides us in our journey of faith.
May this same God who breathed life into lifeless clay breathe new life, new vitality, new hope into you; and may you listen for the whisper of the Holy Spirit and its counsel – today, and all the days to come. Amen.
