Does any other preacher out there have a hard time hearing
John 14 without thinking of a funeral? That might be true for parishioners,
too. We do 10-12 funerals a year in our parish, and I’d guess that nearly half
of them have John 14:1-6 as the gospel lesson. Well, this Sunday’s gospel isJohn 14:1-14, and I’ll have the chance to preach on it twice. We’ve got a
funeral scheduled for Wednesday, and the family has picked the same gospel
lesson—I presume with no regard for the overlap. Will I be able to separate the
two? Should I?
Now that we’re on to the second half of Easter, the lessons
shift from “Oh my! It’s the risen Jesus!” to “Oh no! What are we going to do
when Jesus leaves?” That’s what brings us to John 14. It’s actually Jesus
speaking to his disciples before his death, but the sentiment is the same: “I
will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may
be also.” Jesus assures us that we have a place with him in the father’s house.
And that’s good news, since he’s not around anymore to convince us of that. And
this week, because I’ll be preaching this bit of good news twice, I find myself
wondering whether the immediacy that comes with the death of a loved-one adds focus
to this passage in a way that carries over to Sunday morning. In other words,
is the sermon really any different?
As Holy Week moves to Easter and toward Ascension Day and
Pentecost, we’re on a theological roller of sorts. Jesus rides in to Jerusalem
triumphantly, but then he is arrested and killed. He dies a terrible defeating
death on the cross, but then God raises him from the dead, defeating death
itself. Then Jesus appears to his disciples, giving them new confidence before
vanishing from their sight, showing them that he’s in a different state now and
cannot be held on to. Soon, these joyful resurrection appearances will end, and
Jesus will ascend into heaven, leaving the world momentarily comfortless, but
then the Holy Spirit comes and shows God’s abiding presence in the world. We’re
in the middle of that up and down and up and down cycle, and I think there’s a
similarity with caring for a family member until and beyond the point of death.
We have good days and bad days. Things get tough and then
they become peaceful. We share joyful memories and also cry tears of grief. Ultimately,
we find ourselves standing on a threshold, having escorted one we love all the way
to the end of life, but then we have to let go. We can journey no further. We trust
that in Jesus Christ the future is open—that more lies ahead—but we can’t see
it and can’t know it yet. We say farewell to our father, our mother, our spouse
the same way that the disciples say farewell to Jesus—with hope and trust and
faith and clinging to his every word. Yes, there is something waiting for us.
We know that because of what Jesus did and said. And we know it most powerfully
in those moments of moving from this life to the next.
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