Text: John 14:15-21 Revised Standard Version (RSV)
The Promise of the Holy Spirit
15 “If you love me, you will keep my commandments. 16 And I will pray the Father, and he will give you another Counselor, to be with you for ever, 17 even the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him; you know him, for he dwells with you, and will be in you. 18 “I will not leave you desolate; I will come to you. 19 Yet a little while, and the world will see me no more, but you will see me; because I live, you will live also. 20 In that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. 21 He who has my commandments and keeps them, he it is who loves me; and he who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and manifest myself to him.”
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
“Praise the God of all, drink the wine, and let the world be the world.” This is purportedly a French proverb quoted by one of the characters in the TV series “The Tudors.” But whether it’s an actual French proverb or not, it gives us an insight into today’s lesson, particularly the phrase “and let the world be the world.”
When Jesus gathers his disciples, he promises that he will pray to the Father and the Father will give them another Counselor, the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. In other words, forget about the world; it no longer has a hold on you. Just keep my commandments, rely on that Counselor, and you’ll be fine.
For the disciples, those words were a lifeline. After all, Jesus had just told them a few verses prior to the one for today that he was going away to prepare a place for them, so it’s possible that a feeling of impending desertion was in the air. Those beleaguered disciples were no doubt asking the question “what happens now?”
It’s never easy to say “good-bye.” This was true even for Jesus. Today’s passage is part of what’s been called Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse,” which takes up four entire chapters of John’s Gospel – Chapters 14 through 17, to be exact. So you could say that Jesus has hardly even started his good-byes yet!
But he’s off to a good start – once again, he gives his disciples words of encouragement and comfort. Not only does he tell them that they’ll have the benefit of the Holy Spirit and won’t be going it alone, but also that “I will not leave you desolate.”
Let’s think about those words for a minute.
How does it make you feel to hear “I will not leave you desolate”? I think that one of the deepest of our human needs is to feel as though we’re not alone in the world. It’s a basic human characteristic to gather together in groups – the old adage that “there’s safety in numbers” has been true since the beginning of human memory, and it’s just as true today. Our Christian religion, in particular, is and always has been a religion of community. Even those who would call themselves “loners” still need to feel as though there is someone, somewhere “out there” who knows them and cares for them; they, too, need to feel as though they are not left desolate and “auf eigene Faust,” “on their own fist,” alone.
And because it is such a deep seated need, it’s also easy to exploit. In the Middle Ages, one of the cruelest forms of punishment was the “oubliette.” An oubliette is a narrow, deep hole –usually underground, in the basement of a fortress – with an opening – literally a manhole – at the top, which is the only one way in or out. The sides were often tapered and smoothed so that climbing up was impossible. The name “oubliette” comes from the French verb “oublier,” “to forget.” And that’s exactly what happened – once prisoners were lowered into that hole, the trap door was slammed shut, and they were left there, in the pitch darkness, utterly forgotten. Before long, they were dead, whether by starvation, dehydration, disease, or despair. That is the very definition of “being left desolate.” We can’t survive for long without the contact of others.
But we don’t have to be thrown into an oubliette to understand desertion and desolation. I remember a time or two when I was small, where I was in a store with my Mom, and I’d turn away for a moment, and when I turned back, she’d be gone – she wasn’t far away, but I just couldn’t see her. Even so, I felt that gut-wrenching moment of panic and desertion, and I’d desperately try to relocate her; and when I did – often by just turning around and looking in the other direction – relief washed over me like a wave. I was no longer “alone.”
There are other forms of desolation, though, too, and most of them are not physical. When a loved one – say, a father or a mother – leaves us and joins the Church Triumphant, much of our grief comes from that same very same sense of being left alone – even though the other parent might still be very much alive, that sense of loss is still there. If you’re lying – all by yourself – in a sterile hospital room, either before an operation or recovering from one, it’s easy to feel like you’re all alone, deserted, desolate, surrounded by strangers to whom you are not much more than a sack of need. A familiar face at a time like that is more than welcome. We have also all felt at one time or another the sense of desertion that happens at the end of a relationship, or the end of a job, or even at the conclusion of, say, the end of studies – as happy as we are that the days of school work are over, there still might come a sense of the loss of a familiar way of life – even though we’re the ones doing the leaving, we might feel at a loss – our friends will most likely be going to other schools or jobs, our surroundings will change, our daily lives will be completely different; so the most common question we might ask is “what happens now?” We call that “homesickness,” but it’s a form of desertion, too.
When I was in Germany during my Junior year of college, even though I was exactly where I wanted to be and was doing exactly what I wanted to do, I occasionally felt a bit of homesickness. Now, my Dad was famous, or more exactly, infamous, for his – uh – less than lengthy letters. I remember once when, after I’d been in Germany for some months, and was in one such moment of feeling deserted, I got a letter from my Dad – oh boy! I thought, word from home! So, with great excitement, I tore open the envelope. In it was a form of some sort; and the “letter” from Dad? It was exactly four words: “Sign this. Love, Dad.” “Send back” was implied. (As I recall, my brothers and sister told me later that they’d gotten the exact same letter! And none of us can recall what the stupid thing was about!)
This is a humorous example, perhaps; but, in moments like that, and certainly in worse ones, it’s really comforting and encouraging to feel a comforting pat on the shoulder and hear the simple words, “Hey, I’ve got your back.” For us Christians, that’s exactly what these words of Jesus mean: “I will not leave you desolate.”
But why?
This might seem like a stupid question. Of course Jesus won’t leave us desolate – he’s Jesus, isn’t he? He’s God-Made-Flesh, Immanuel! He came to us so we wouldn’t be desolate, right?
Well, yes and no.
Remember that the mission statement of Jesus’ ministry was: “Repent, for the Kingdom of God has come near.” In other words, get your affairs in order, for God is a-comin’!
BUT – having said that, yes, of course, there was definitely something else. The reason why God sent us Jesus in the first place: Love. God’s love.
This is no surprise. From the very first day of Sunday School we’re taught that “God is Love.” The words are burned into our brains:
“Praise Him, praise Him, all you little children!
God is Love, God is Love!
Praise Him, praise Him, all you little children!
God is Love, God is Love.”
That is absolutely, categorically true.
John’s Gospel is all about God’s Love. In fact, one scholar, Professor Jaime Clark-Soles, writes that love is Jesus’ favorite theme. She tells us that, in Chapters 14 through 17, the “Farewell Discourse” I mentioned a few minutes ago, Jesus uses the two Greek words for “love” (ἀγαπάω, agapao and φιλέω, phileo) fifty-seven times! She writes, “Fifty-seven times Jesus uses love verbs… Add to that all of the occurrences of ‘friend’ (which is the translation of philos) as well as the fact that the primary disciple in the Fourth Gospel is an unnamed character called ‘the beloved disciple,’ and we might accuse the author of touting a single issue. And why not, for is it not the case that ‘God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten son that whosoever believeth in him shall not perish but have everlasting life’? (3:16).” [1]
I think we can all agree with her assessment!
This passage begins and ends with love. The love of God for us, which compelled him to send Jesus into the world to save it.
Our task, today and really every day, is not to become jaded and take this for granted.
This is how we do that: In John’s Gospel, Jesus gives only one single commandment. In Chapter 13, verses 34 and 35, Jesus commands his disciples “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
To love is Jesus’ single commandment to us, his disciples. Clark-Soles tells us that “For John, there’s only one question to ask yourself: ‘In what ways did I or did I not love today?’”[2]
This is a very serious question. Love in this context is not the sappy, Hallmark Card kind of love, or the love couples feel toward each other, or even the love we feel toward our children. Starting with a quote from the scholar C. K. Barrett, our old friend William Barclay writes the following: “‘John never allowed love to devolve into a sentiment or emotion. Its expression is always moral and is revealed in obedience.’”[3] Barclay goes on to say, “There are children and young people who say that they love their parents, and who yet cause them grief and anxiety. There are husbands who say they love their wives and wives who say they love their husbands, and who yet, by their inconsiderateness and their irritability and their thoughtless unkindness, bring pain to one another. To Jesus, love is not an easy thing.”[4]
Christian love is tough love. It is the love that calls us to “hang in there” even when our every instinct screams for us to bolt. It is the kind of love which demands that we sit at the same table with those who make us uncomfortable. It is the love that calls us to go not just the extra mile, but the mile after that, and the mile after that, and…
Hard, yes. But not impossible – because of that Counselor whose help we have been given.
The Greek word used is “parakletos” (παράκλητος), which means “helper” or “advocate” or “one who’s called in,” kind of like what we might call a “troubleshooter.” This is third Person of God who stands ready to help us fulfill what Jesus commands. When Jesus tells his nervous friends that he would pray to the Father who would send them that parakletos, what he is saying is “Yes, I’m giving you a tough assignment. Your lives from here on out will be even more difficult than they’ve been so far. But don’t worry – I’m going to send you the parakletos, the Helper, who will not only guide you as to what you must do, but will also give you the ability to do it.
So friends, we do not need to fear the answer to the question ‘In what ways did I or did I not love today?’ With the Helper in our corner, we can do and dare great things in the Name of the One Who loves us!
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
[1] Clark-Soles, Jaime, “Commentary on John 14:15-21,” Working Preacher, April 27, 2008, http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=69
[2] Ibid.
[3] Barrett, C. K., quoted in Barclay, William, The Gospel of John, Volume Two, The New Daily Study Bible, Louisville, KY, Westminster John Knox Press, 2001, p. 193
[4] Ibid, pp 193-4