Ever since Easter, we’ve been dipping into the Gospel of John. The first couple of readings were post-resurrection appearances —one in the upper room with Thomas and the others, the other on the beach where he cooks his followers a little fish breakfast. The last two weeks have given us pre-resurrection stories, motivated in part by the need to squeeze as much of a fourth Gospel into a three-year lectionary as possible. But in addition, these scriptures provide a look at what Jesus’ ministry is all about from John’sperspective, which is very different from that of the other three Gospels.
One of the reasons it’s so different is the time in which it was written: some ten to twenty years after the other three. The Christian landscape had been changing rapidly since the crucifixion; many, diverse interpretations of the Jesus phenomenon were floated and many sects—some small and some larger—rose and fell. We think there were many gospels written during that period, some—like the Gospel of Thomas—with very different conceptions Jesus and his mission.
Because of all this change, the environment in which Matthew, Mark and Luke were written was very different than when John was written, only a couple of decades later. The first three were written just before and just after the failed Jewish uprising of 70 C.E. As one Biblical scholar put it, they are war-timedocuments—within them, you can read material anticipating and reacting to this tragic and cataclysmic event. The Gospel of John is a very different animal, in part because it was written in Ephesus—far from the Jerusalem nexus— afteranother critical event: the eviction of the Christian house-church communities from the Ephesus synagogue. This conflict with the Jewish religious establishment provides the context for the Farewell Discourse, the teaching Jesus gave at the last Supper, which appears only in John. The disciples’ questions in the discourse reflect questions members of John’s community had, and Jesus addresses members of the house churches at the same time he does his own disciples.
And none of the questions reflect that situation better than the one from Judas—notthatJudas, he’d already left—which begins our passage: “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?” It must have been a question much on the minds of John’s Ephesus community, especially in the face of Jewish non-acceptance of the gospel—why did they reject you, Lord? More to the point, how is it that you reveal yourself to us, but not to everyone else? His disciples had believedbecause he’d revealedhimself to them; why hadn’t he done so with everyone else?
Another way to put this question, and it makes more sense in terms of an excluded minority: why do you favor us, Lord? What makes us special enough to receive your special blessing? It must be ‘cause we’re more righteous, more holy, more faithfulthan those whom you have not favored by this revelation. After all, it was their own communitythey’d been cast out of, they were all Jews, there must be somereason . . . John’s Ephesus community needed the answer at leastas much as Judas did sixty years before. They were trying to construct an identity that was different fromand superior tothose who’d thrown them out. It was about community self-esteemas much as anything.
But Jesus doesn’t answer either Judas or any future member of John’s community, at least not directly. The disciples are speaking on one level—that of the kosmos,the world, the powers and principalities—and Jesus is speaking on another, a more spiritual level. This happens a lotin John. And the effect here,as it often is, is to undermine the question by ignoring it—there’s something more important than strengthening egos, than building up walls between us and them. And it’s what those who love him—aka, his followers—do when they arehis followers.
Another way to put it is: Judas asks what sets them apart, what makes them worthy to be chosen, to be revealed-to, and Jesus turns it around and tells them what they will do if they are his followers. Never mind those others, he’s saying, never mind what they might do or what they might lack, that’s none of your business. Whoever truly loves me, whoever is my disciple, keeps my word. And notice that it’s not a command, particularly, not a “you’d better keep my word or else,” it’s simply descriptive. Those who are like thatdo this,like if they’re horses, they run; if they’re accountants, they count; if they love me, they keep my word.
Of course, Jesus isn’t stupid, he knowsthat this will set his disciples to fretting about how well they’re keeping his word: they thinkthey love him, they feellike it, anyway . . . and hadn’t they followed him all over kingdom come?Isn’t that a strong indicationthat they love him? Doesn’t that proveit in a way? And just what does he meanby “keep his word,” anyway? “Keep” can have several, overlapping meanings . . . it can mean “guard,” as in “protect” or “preserve,” or “hold onto” as in “I’m keeping this for myself.” But it can also mean “obey” or “observe” as in observe the law. Only in John does Jesus use the term “keep my word,” and it seems to encompass all of these senses, with the emphasis on “observe” or “hold to.” Thus, Jesus seems to be saying “those who love me follow my teachings,” and since so much of Jesus’ teachings are encoded in his ministry, in his actions,keeping his word amounts to “live as I taught, both in word and in deed.” Those who love me live out my teachings.
But even though what Jesus says no doubt makes his disciples—both in Judas’ and John’s times—a little nervous, I don’t think that’s Jesus main purpose here. I think his primary purpose is pastoral,he’s consoling his disciples—both during his own time and in John’s—who have been confronted with the fact that he is soon to leave them. Remember last week? In our discussion of the “great commandment?” He knewthat even though his disciples didn’t fully understand, they would be bereft and bereaved, saddened and grieving at the news. They’d had such hopes, such dreams, even if some of them were misguided . . . and Jesus had compassion for them so that he called them his “little children . . . I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me, but . . . where I am going you cannot come.” And much that comes after can be read as Jesus’ compassionate reassurance that (a) they will see him again eventually and (b) he will not leave them without resources.
And that last is the theme of our passage today: Jesus is telling them how it is to be after he has physically left the planet, and reassuring them that they will notbe—and in the case of John’s Ephesus congregants, that they are not at the time—alone. In fact, God and he will come to them and make their home with them. Jesus will say this in different ways in the remainder of John’s gospel: he urges his followers to abide in him as he abides in them. He tells them that he is in God the Father, and in the same way God and he are in them.It speaks of a radical mutuality, an intimateindwelling of God and Jesus and human beings.
And what is the vehiclefor this indwelling, this stunningly close relationship to the divine? It’s theParaclete, whom God will send, and in our version it’s translated as “the Advocate,” but it could just as easily be “Comforter” or “Helper.” The Greek word “Paraclete” means “one who goes alongside to help;” Jesus identifies it as the Holy Spirit, and can you see the beginnings of the Trinity? That doctrine, famously notin the Bible, pictures the God-head as consisting of Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Here, the Father and the Son—Creator and Savior—make their home within one who loves the Son, and the Holy Spirit advocatesfor them, mediates between them. And the Spirit, this indwelling entity, sent by God the Father, will teach them everything and remind them of all that God the Son has taught them. After all, as Jesus has told them already the Spirit is the Spirit of truth, and abides within them.
And you know? Maybe this gives an idea of what it means to love Jesus . . . he hinted at it over in Matthew: “Just as you did it to the least of these . . . you did it too me.” Here in John, he fleshes it out a bit: if God—Christ, Creator and Comforter—is in each of us—in allcreation, as Paul put it, holding it all together—then is not loving one another, loving all of creation,loving Christ? Howsoever you’ve loved the least of these, you have loved me.
Jesus is drawing a pictureof what life will be after he is gone. It’s one of radical unity, stunning intimacywith the divine in all its aspects—God the Creator, God the Savior and God the Advocate, dwelling within the believer, within those who lovehim. Far from leaving his followers orphans—in his own time, in John’stime and in our own—we are endowed with a divine light, a holy fire, that can help us to see and do the Lord’s will. Those who love him keep his word, but we’re not to do it alone, nor are we to do it without help. As Paul said “there is no longer Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave and free; but Christ is all and in all!”
Sothisis the peace Jesus leaves for us, thisis the peace he gives us: that we will never be without his presence, we will never be without his guidance, if we just trust that God is alive and present and within. So, do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid. Amen.
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