Grace Episcopal Church; Rev. Kate Ekrem, Rector
April 20, 2008; Easter 5, Year A
Acts 7:55-60; Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16; I Peter 2:2-10; John 14:1-14
Today's sermon offered by the Madelyn Betz, Seminarian

In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

It was my pleasure this past fall to be able to reconnect with my friend Judith, who is the Episcopal priest over in Westwood. I have known Judith for a number of years, but we had not seen each other for quite a while. By email, we set a date to meet for lunch in Westwood, on a day when I had an appointment with Kate in the afternoon. As you imagine such a reunion, it probably won't surprise you that we talked and ate and looked at the clock to see that it was already past the time that I was supposed to be here in Norwood. Judith said, "Oh, don't worry. Norwood is right next door. It will take you just a few minutes." And she began to give me directions over back roads as my eyes glazed over and I had visions of becoming hopelessly lost.

I wonder if the disciples were feeling a similar insecurity on the occasion that we read about in today's Gospel lesson. Jesus and his disciples had traveled over many roads together, probably to places that none of them had ever been before. They may or may not have understood that with this trip to Jerusalem, this part of their life's journey was drawing to a close. When we call the setting for today's Gospel lesson the Last Supper, it's easy to forget that the disciples probably didn't see it that way. Jesus had washed their feet, Judas had left the room to go out into the night and Jesus had given the new commandment to love one another.

In the verses that lead up to our passage for today Simon Peter had said to Jesus, "Lord, where are you going?" Jesus answered, "Where I am going, you cannot follow me now; but you will follow afterward." Peter said to him, "Lord, why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you." Jesus answered, "Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times." [John 13:35-38]

The emotions in that room must have been running very high. The excitement of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem, the anticipation of the Passover celebration, the reunion with Mary, Martha and Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised from the dead, and now this small gathering with Jesus' unexpected words-all taking place within just a few days. Jesus was going away from the disciples with whom he had been inseparable for about three years. Filled with compassion for his friends because he knew that their hearts were troubled, Jesus spoke words of comfort and encouragement. The words still provide comfort and encouragement and are one of the passages suggested in the Prayer Book for reading at the Burial Office.

In my many years as an organist, I have had the privilege of playing for close to two hundred funerals and in churches of many denominations. I can say without a doubt that the two most requested Bible readings at funerals anywhere are the twenty-third Psalm, which we read together last Sunday, and today's Gospel reading from John 14.

The prayer book tells us that "the liturgy for the dead is an Easter liturgy. It finds all its meaning in the resurrection. Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we, too, shall be raised." The Prayer Book goes on to say that "the [burial] liturgy is therefore to be characterized by joy in the certainty that nothing shall separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." So this passage from John 14 offers us the certainty of resurrection life with Jesus and is one of the reasons that it is included in the readings for the Easter season.

"Do not let your hearts be troubled," Jesus said, indicating that we have some control over that. And then he went on to tell us how to accomplish it. Our hearts are comforted when we believe...believe in God, believe in Jesus. In the moment when Jesus said this, what he wanted the disciples to believe, and which we hold on to today, especially in our times of grief, is that in God's house there is a place for us. I can understand why the translators of the King James Version chose the word "mansions" as an image for the Father's dwelling places. Large, beautiful places of comfort and enough of them for everyone.

But the nuance that is still missing when we translate the Greek into English is the idea of abiding, resting. It is this sense of being provided for in all eternity by Jesus himself that is the source of our solace. And in grief, this comforts people in all stations and stages of life. These encouraging words, though, are only part of the story.

We're told that as this conversation went on in the Upper Room, the disciples were still confused. It was Thomas who asked for clarification: "Lord, we don't know where you're going. How can we know the way?"
Jesus replied with a symbolic "I am" statement. Last week, we read the passage where Jesus said "I am the gate" and "I am the good shepherd." Today, we read that Jesus said, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life." These "I am" statements always have two components: they contain an image and an action. In this case, Jesus did not merely tell the disciples how to live; he gave them the example of his own life. He showed them the way to the extent that he could say "I am the way." I embody the way to the Father.

Jesus' life, inasmuch as we can know it through scripture, can be characterized by two underlying qualities: love and service. Jesus' life cannot be characterized by a gesture of grasping, holding. Jesus' life was reaching out-the same gesture that the priest uses during the Eucharistic prayer.

If we compare Christianity with other religions we find that all of the major religions in the world believe on some level that abundant life can only be found in a counter-intuitive self-emptying. Jesus' life is our perfect model for what that looks like.

In a letter written less than a hundred years after Jesus lived on earth, a man named Diognetus wrote that "Christians are indistinguishable from others either by nationality, language or customs…and yet there is something extraordinary about their lives. They lived in their own countries as though they were only passing through."* He was describing people who were living according to Jesus' way.

Are we willing to set aside our own wants to follow in the way of Jesus? Stephen was. Acts tells us he was a man full of faith. He believed God; he believed Jesus. He served and had compassion for others until his dying breath. Jesus said, "Greater love has no one than this, that you would lay down your life for your friends." Those whom we would call Stephen's enemies, received the self-giving love of a friend. Stephen followed Jesus' way.

My friend Judith looked at me and stopped giving directions and said, "Never mind. I'll drive to Norwood; you follow me." It did in fact take only a few minutes. I made no wrong turns. I didn't get lost. I still didn't know the way, but Judith did. In that metaphor for the Christian life, she became the way for me. She led and I followed. At the very beginning of his ministry, Jesus said to the disciples, "Come, follow me." He says the same to us. And if we're willing, the way couldn't be more clear. And it leads to truth and to abundant and eternal life. Amen.

* J. Robert Wright, Readings for the Daily Office from the Early Church (New York: Church Hymnal Corp., 1991), 207.