Wednesday, June 7, 2017

"Why Interfaith?" From an Interfaith Panel Discussion on May 6, 2017

"Why Interfaith?"

From an Interfaith Panel Discussion on May 6, 2017



Shalom....  Asalaamu alaikum…   Shanti…  Peace be to you all.

            I thought I’d start with a little history. Some of our local religious communities have been involved for years in interfaith endeavors.  So much of our interfaith work has been about relationships, so I’d like to talk about my experience with this.
            The congregation I serve--Littlefield Presbyterian Church-- has been involved in interfaith work since the late 1970’s. At this point, it’s one of the few remaining Protestant Christian churches in east Dearborn. 
            In the beginning, almost 90 years ago, it was a neighborhood church, in an area that was predominately Catholic. Over time, the neighborhood changed due to white flight and new neighbors moving in. Most of the new neighbors were Muslim. The congregation could have moved to the suburbs or closed, which is what some other churches did. But they did a mission study and decided they were called to stay where they were and be good neighbors to the people who were moving in, and to witness to God’s love where they were planted.  
            Littlefield called the Rev. William Gepford to help them in their “ministry of reconciliation”[1]  and to build mutual respect and understanding among Christians and Muslims, and over the years. Dr. Gepford was one of the pioneers in interfaith work in the metro Detroit area and beyond.
            In the early years, Littlefield invited their Muslim neighbors to a series of a gatherings, during which people got to know one another over meals and conversation.  Over time, they built relationships in the community and worked together on projects like the annual holiday food baskets that served up to 100 needy families.  Dr. Gepford worked with a team of interfaith leaders to plan the first interfaith Thanksgiving service, a tradition that continued many years until a number of communities were holding their own interfaith services.

            I was called to be the pastor of Littlefield in 1997  and became involved in the interfaith work.  When 9/11 happened, it gave many of us a renewed sense of urgency about nurturing our interfaith relationships.  
            Those first few days were fearful times.  The church put up a sign on the doors that said, “This is a Hate Free Zone,” and some of our neighbors asked if they could come in and pray.  We went to one anothers’ houses of worship to show our support.
           
            We continue to visit back and forth between churches and mosques, attending worship and meals and other events.  We offer one another care and support.  Our Muslim neighbors invite us to break the fast at Ramadan iftar meals.  We invite them to join us for our Christmas Eve Lessons & Carols service.
On the Sunday in September closest to the International Day of Peace, we hold a service of Interfaith Prayer for Peace.  We encourage people to practice “respectful presence,” which means that we participate in the parts we can, and listen respectfully and learn in other parts.[2]  We typically have a Jewish cantor, an Imam, and a Christian pastor, and we’ve also occasionally had someone from the Sikh or Buddhist community.  We experience elements from each tradition, and we pray together “with one voice” in a litany for peace in our communities, our nation, and the world. We make new friends over refreshments following the service.   

            Because Littlefield has worked to build relationships in the community, our Muslim neighbors trust us and send their kids to our annual Peace Camp in the summer. The kids build a neighborhood of peace and justice out of cardboard boxes, they sing songs of peace, and learn some peace-building skills. And we all make new friends.

            Our Dearborn Area Interfaith Network builds relationships and works together on some events.  On the first Thursday in May, we hold our annual National Day of Prayer Interfaith Prayer gathering.  Each January we sponsor an interfaith convocation in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King.
            Some years ago, when Terry Jones came to town to protest what he wanted to see as “sharia law” in Dearborn, he wanted to protest outside the Islamic Center of America.  Religious leaders from around the metro area gathered and encircled the mosque to show our support. 

            At a committee meeting a few days after our most recent interfaith service, several of our members talked about how grateful they are to live in Dearborn, to be neighbors and friends with people from Lebanon and Palestine and Bosnia and elsewhere. 
            As one of them said, “Isn’t following Jesus really all about love?” 
            I believe that’s true.  My Christian faith teaches me that “perfect love casts out fear.”[3]  When we get to know our neighbors, when we grow in understanding, we don’t need to be afraid of one another. 
            When we get to know each other, we discover how much we have in common.   As children of Abraham, Jews, Christians, and Muslims all worship the same God-- the God of mercy and compassion. We are all taught by our faith to love God and neighbor. We worship  the God who is one.   We are all "people of the book."   The "family tree" of our faith makes it apparent that we are family.  We're connected, all the way back to Adam and Eve, and we trace our ancestry back through Isaac and Ishmael to Abraham.     
            When we study history, we are aware of how each of our faith traditions has had a tendency to be exclusivist, and to believe that it has the only path to God.  But there have always been valued streams of thought which are very respectful of the religious behavior and ideas of other faith traditions.  I am glad to be a part of that movement.

            I’ve read a lot of helpful books on interfaith work. One I read recently is helpful:   The Interfaith Alternative: Embracing Spiritual Diversity. [4]   The author, Steven Greenbaum, talks about the concept of “right belief,” which he says has been an organizing principle of our spiritual paths for a very long time.  If a religious community believes that we have the only way, that we are the only chosen people, and that we follow the only right spiritual path, the result can be distrust, hatred and violence.   
             Greenbaum offers an interfaith alternative, which respects each spiritual path and recognizes what we all share in common:  the call to love and to be loving and compassionate.
            He suggests “Maybe dividing ourselves into righteous pockets of spiritual belief is not the best way to bring about love.”  We humans are great at building walls between ourselves and those who are different in some way. For too long, too many of us have been stuck in a paradigm that demands that we search for or protect the one “right belief.”  
            I think Greenbaum is right when he says “Who has the right belief?” is the wrong question,  and that we need to be more concerned with a different question: “How do we live as a result of our beliefs?”   We need to stop arguing about which religious tradition is “best” or “right” or “true,” and find ways to be in conversation with one another and to work together to honor God/Allah/Hashem or whatever we call the One God we worship, through works of compassion, mercy, and justice.

            How many of you know the story of “The Blind Men and the Elephant”?   It’s an Indian fable. We had a picture book version at our house when my son was young, and I bought a new copy recently.  The story originated in the Indian subcontinent and is widely known in many traditions, including Buddist, Jain, Hindu, and Sufi Muslim traditions.
            In various versions of the story, a group of blind men (or people in the dark) are led to an elephant to touch it, so they can learn what an elephant is like.  Each person feels a different part.  In some versions, their differences lead to violence, as each one is convinced he has it right and tries to dominate.  In some versions of the story, they stop shouting, start listening to each other, and work together to “see” the whole elephant. 
            I think it’s time we all become more conscious and more intentional about this.  It’s time we stop trying to defend our one right truth and find ways to be in conversation with those who may have experienced a different truth?    We need to heed the common call of all our religious traditions, the call to love and compassion.
            As we come to understand the depth of our neighbors' relationship with the God we both worship, we learn to respect and value their faith, even while we recognize and affirm our different paths.  

            For those of us who long for a better, more peaceful world, it’s painful to see so much of what’s going on-- to see the racism, Islamaphobia, and anti-Semitism in our world. We live in such a fearful time, and political rhetoric has magnified it. Fear breeds animosity and hate. Hatred breeds more fear. It’s a vicious cycle.  
It can feel overwhelming.

            Because I follow Jesus, whom I know partly as the “Prince of Peace,” I believe I am called to be a peace-maker. That means I need to be working for reconciliation and justice.  Working against racism… working to alleviate poverty… working to promote understanding between all God’s people.
            The more we come to know one another, the more we understand that we have common ground. A few years ago, a large number of Islamic scholars and leaders signed a document, A Common Word between Us and You, which affirms what we, as people of the book and children of Abraham, share in common.[5]
            A Common Word affirms the “Shema,”or the "Great Commandment" to love God completely and to love our neighbors as an important value we share in common. Wherever we find such common ground, it can help us find ways for us not only to live together, as good neighbors, in peace. It can help to deepen our friendship and help us to find ways to cooperate with one another and to work together in the public square for the common good. And we can leave a more just and peaceful world for our children and grandchildren.


[1] 2 Corinthians 5

[3] 1 John 4:18

[4] Steven Greenbaum, The Interfaith Alternative: Embracing Spiritual Diversity. (SkyLightPaths, 2015)


Sunday, June 4, 2017

"The Promise of Pentecost": A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church.




"The Promise of Pentecost"

Acts 2:1-21



One of my Lutheran colleagues, Nadia Bolz Weber, was the mission developer for House for All Sinners and Saints, an urban liturgical community in Denver, Colorado.
            Nadia told us that a few years ago a neighboring church gifted House for All Sinners and Saints a full set of gently used paraments.  Their church—a new church development-- is like every other church’s little sister, so they get a lot of hand-me-downs.  As a group of them went through the beautiful altar cloths, they came to the red set and found one with an image of a descending dove with completely crazy eyes and claws that looked like talons.
As Nadia said, “Yep.  It was as though the Holy Spirit was a raptor.”
“Man, someone said. We can’t use this one!   It makes The Holy Spirit look dangerous!”[1]

Well, the story we just heard from Acts is no sweet, sentimental birthday story.   At the so-called birth of the church, there was no organ.  There were no pews fastened to the floor.   There were no greeters handing out bulletins.  There was little resemblance to what the church has become in the early part of the 21st century. 
On Pentecost, the disciples were gathered together in Jerusalem, on the day of Pentecost-- fifty days after Jesus was raised from the grave., waiting and hoping for the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you.  And you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.
           
            What was it that happened on that Day of Pentecost?  Although this holy day is often called the birthday of the church, we’re not celebrating the birth of an organization today.  Pentecost is the story of how the church came alive by the power of the Holy Spirit.  On that day, followers of Jesus Christ received the power to take the gospel to the streets there in Jerusalem...  and eventually throughout the earth.
            What happened that day was such a powerful experience that the people who were there had to turn to dramatic metaphor to describe what happened.  They said it was like a fire falling on them.   A sense of community and understanding transcended all the differences of language of those who were gathered there.
            On that day, a mighty wind from heaven blew the fire of the Holy Spirit into those followers who were gathered together.  When something like tongues of fire danced over the heads of the apostles, they seemed to be quickened by unseen forces.  They were shouting...  preaching...  speaking in a variety of languages so people from a lot of different countries could understand each other...  and generally making such a commotion that the people of the city had to stop and wonder:  what on earth was going on?
            The Spirit blew into the apostles an awareness that-- just as Jesus had promised-- the presence of the Holy Spirit was with them… and was at work in and through them.
            The sound that came from heaven-- that rushing violent wind-- was the exciting sound of old barriers being broken and glass ceilings shattering.  The divisions within humanity were being overcome.   The church was empowered to take to the streets with the good news.
            On the day of Pentecost, the disciples acquired a holy boldness that they’d never had before.  The difference in them after Pentecost was as dramatic as those before-and-after pictures that weight loss programs use in their advertisements. 
            Before Pentecost, on the night of Jesus’ arrest, Peter cowered away from a servant girl’s questions and refused to admit that he knew Jesus. After Pentecost, Peter preaches the first Pentecost sermon to the confused and questioning crowd, boldly proclaiming that Joel's prophecy is being fulfilled, as people are having dreams and visions.  The Spirit gives him the power to witness to the crowd.
            Before Pentecost, many of the disciples felt doubt and despair.  They may have felt, like their ancestors had, like “dry bones.”   After Pentecost, the apostles went out into the streets and into the community, and people’s lives were changed.  They touched the lame and they walked.  They were imprisoned and flogged...  yet they showed no signs of doubt or fear.  Prodded and empowered by the Holy Spirit, the once disheartened disciples moved out.
            Who would be in this new community of faith?  Jews, of course.  That's what the first disciples believed.        But, not long after the story of Pentecost in Acts 2, there are other stories.  Peter has a vision in which he sees a great sheet being lowered with all kinds of animals. He heard God's voice saying, “Don’t call anything I create unclean.” 
            Peter came to understand that the vision wasn’t about unclean food, but about unclean people.  He met the gentile Cornelius and baptized him.  The church could have become a sect within Judaism-- a gathering place for disgruntled Israelites.  But no-- the promise of God was sent even to Gentiles- to outsiders.  The early church struggled with the issue of who to include, just as we do today.  But the Holy Spirit prevailed.
            Fifteen hundred years later, the church that began at Pentecost languished.  There was widespread corruption...abuse of power by the church.  The church had become wealthy...  complacent.  Would the movement begun at Pentecost go the way of so many other organizations that mature and then die? 
            An Augustinian monk in Germany, Martin Luther, nailed a list of 95 theses on a church door and called the church back to its biblical roots.  You know the rest of the story of the reformation:  the Holy Spirit prevailed.
            Eighteenth-century England and the United States were going through the trauma of urbanization and the first industrial revolution. In this time of turmoil, people of faith-- especially Quakers and Evangelicals-- worked for decades for the abolition of slavery, as well as for some other basic human rights. Eventually, the Holy Spirit prevailed, as slavery was abolished and other progress was made, although there’s still a lot of work to be done and the Holy Spirit keeps prodding us. Through struggles for human rights and for justice, the Holy Spirit continues to work in and through God’s people.

Today we are living in a time of huge change:  technological, cultural, political, and religious. So, it’s no wonder if we feel bewildered… disoriented… and afraid.
But I think we’re in a time when God is trying to do amazing new things, through us. It’s a time when we need to open ourselves to the work of the Holy Spirit to help us discern what the good news is for our time and to empower us to proclaim it.  The Spirit is on the move!
The feast of Pentecost reminds us that the Holy Spirit-- still blows into our lives, to justify us by grace through faith, to set us free to accept ourselves and to love God and neighbor.[2]
            The same Holy Spirit who inspired the prophets and apostles and
gave birth to the church continues to prod, cajole, and urge us forward.    It’s been this way since the beginning of the church.  Just when we get settled down, comfortable with present arrangements, our pews bolted securely to the floor, all fixed and immobile-- there comes a rush of wind, or a still small voice...  a breath of fresh air...  tongues of fire-- and the Holy Spirit comes to us, to give us courage to pray without ceasing, to witness among all peoples to Christ as Lord and Savior, to unmask idolatries in Church and culture, to hear the voices of peoples long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace.[3]
    
        Come, Holy Spirit!
           

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
June 4, 2017


[1] Nadia Bolz Weber, “The Sermon I Preached at the Festival of Homiletics.” http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2012/05/the-pentecost-sermon-i-preached-at-the-festival-of-homiletics/


[2] This wording is excerpting from “The Brief Statement of Faith” of the Presbyterian Church (USA), which was adopted and added to the Presbyterian Book of Confessions in 1990. https://www.presbyterianmission.org/what-we-believe/brief-statement-of-faith/
[3] Ibid.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

"Waiting for the Power": A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Acts 1:1-14.




"Waiting for the Power"

Luke 24:44-53; Acts 1:1-14




In churches that follow the liturgical calendar, we’re coming to the end of Eastertide, the season when we focus on celebrating the Resurrection.  The third major festival of the Christian year, the celebration of the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, comes next Sunday.   Before we get to Pentecost, we celebrate the Ascension, and we hear the part of the story that Luke/Acts places between Easter and Pentecost. 
            One part of the story is that Jesus has ascended to glory with God.  The glory of the risen and ascended Christ is good news-- something to celebrate.
            But the other themes in the story invite us to look at the Ascension from a very human perspective, the disciples’ point of view, which is where we stand.   
            Up until now, Jesus has been the chief actor in the gospel drama.      From his birth to his death, it’s Jesus who keeps the story moving. 
In the forty days following the resurrection, the risen Jesus appeared to his followers a number of times and continued to teach them about the kingdom of God. 
            But they were still living under Roman occupation. There were still people who were poor and hungry and marginalized. Things were still not right in the world.  So, when Jesus told his followers to wait in Jerusalem, where they would be baptized by the Holy Spirit, they asked, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom?”
             Jesus answered, “It isn’t for you to know these things. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses.” Then they saw Jesus lifted up, and a cloud, which the Bible uses as a symbol of God’s presence--lifted Jesus out of their sight.  And now he’s gone from their sight.
When Jesus was carried up into heaven, the reality they were facing was that Jesus was no longer a part of their daily life, in the same way he had been before. 
             
            Now what?  What are Jesus’ followers supposed to do?        It would have been hard not to feel anxious and impatient—just as it can be for us.
            There’s so much bad news in the world-- so much fear and anxiety and hatred. Since earlier this past week, our hearts are heavy with the news of precious lives lost: mostly young concert-goers in Manchester, England and a promising young college graduate in Maryland, stabbed to death by a white supremacist.
            In the 24-hour news cycle, we haven’t been hearing much about refugees in the past few months, but a few days ago we heard that more than 30 perished when an overcrowded boat listed while trying to reach Europe from North Africa, and that most of the bodies recovered were toddlers.
            An 18-year-old former neo-Nazi / white supremacist converted to Islam and murdered two of his white supremacist roommates and told the police he killed them because they didn’t respect his Muslim faith.
            We heard about an attack on a caravan of Coptic Christian pilgrims heading to a monastery in Minya, Egypt that killed 28 people.  Friday two men were killed and another injured when they stepped in to protect 2 women from a man who was shouting ethnic and anti-Muslim slurs at them.  This man, too, turned out to be a white supremacist.
            In our nation’s South, there are conflicts over removing statues that celebrate leaders of the Confederacy. Closer to home, we have a controversy over what place a statue of former Dearborn mayor Orville Hubbard should have.
            Concerns have been raised in local cities about justice and due process in detentions deportations of undocumented immigrants and the impact of current policies on their families.
            In our nation’s capital, politicians are debating matters that include who deserves to have enough to eat and adequate, affordable medical coverage, how we will care for the environment, and much more. The litany of losses and pain and struggle is long.
            Do you want to just shout, “How long, Lord?”  “Is this the time you’re going to make things right in the world?  We want to know what the plan is. We want to know now.
            Lord, is this the time?

            Hear what Jesus says: “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set byfor some time for reflection, whether at home or away. It can be an opportunity for us to renew our sense of gratitude for those who have served their country and for the freedoms we enjoy because of that service and sacrifice. It can also be a time for us to renew our sense of commitment to wohis own authority.”    It is not for us to know all the details of the big plan.
            Christ’s charge to them comes with a promise: “You will be baptized with the Holy Spirit...  You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”
            Luke tells us that the disciples worshipped the risen and ascended Christ.  They returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple blessing God.
            In the verses following the passage we read in Acts, Luke tells how the disciples returned to Jerusalem and went to the upper room where they were staying, where they and certain women were constantly devoting themselves to prayer.  On the day of Pentecost, disciples were gathered together in one place when the power of the Holy Spirit came upon them from on high. 

            The first disciples were called to wait during times of transition--with trust and hope…with eagerness and expectancy.
            This Memorial Day long weekend will bring a variety of parades and other celebrations and
rking for a world that is more just and peaceful.
           
            When the first disciples couldn’t see where the future would lead them, when they couldn’t see where the future would lead them, they remained focused on the drama of God’s salvation story, and worshiped God with great joy.  Their joyful worship as they waited helped to center themselves in God’s gracious, powerful promises

            Do we believe God can use us to transform the world?   Do we believe that we can do all things, through Christ, who strengthens us?      How many of us want to believe these things?       
            I believe God has the power to work miracles, and that God wants to use us to change people’s lives.  But it is not in God’s nature to coerce us.  We have choices.                
           
            In his book, God’s Politics, which a group of us read together some years ago, Jim Wallis talks about “The Critical Choice:  Hope Versus Cynicism.”[1] 
            Wallis says that one of the big struggles of our times is the fundamental choice between cynicism and hope.  The prophets always begin in judgment, in a social critique of the status quo, but they end in hope—that these realities can and will be changed.  This choice between cynicism and hope is ultimately a spiritual choice—one that has enormous political consequences.  He argues for a better religion--  a prophetic faith—the religion of Jesus and the prophets.
            As Wallis says, cynicism can protect you from seeming foolish to believe that things could and will change.  It protects you from disappointment.  It protects you from insecurity, because now you are free to pursue your own security instead of sacrificing it for a social engagement, if you decide that it won’t work anyway. 
            Ultimately, cynicism protects you from commitment.  If things aren’t really going to change, why try so hard to make a difference?... Why take the risks, make the sacrifices, open yourself to the vulnerabilities?  Cynics are finally free just to look after themselves… and pursue their own agendas.
            According to Wallis, the difference between the cynics and the saints is the presence, power, and possibility of hope.  And that is indeed a spiritual and faith issue.  More than just a moral issue, hope is a spiritual and even a religious choice. 
            I agree with Wallis when he says that hope is not a feeling.  It is a decision.  And the decision for hope is based on what you believe at the deepest levels—what your most basic convictions about the world and what the future holds--  all based on your faith.
            We can choose hope, not as a naive wish, but as a choice, with your eyes wide open to the reality of the world.  I believe this hope is grounded in faith…and nurtured in our worship life.
            The Civil Rights movement in the United States grew out of the African-American church… and then others joined in—people who chose to hope in a society in which there is justice for all. We’re still waiting and hoping for the fulfillment of that dream. 

            During the days of Apartheid in South Africa, Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu used to say, “We are prisoners of hope.”  
            I know I’ve shared this story with you before, but it’s powerful and inspiring.  During Apartheid, the South African Security Police came  into the Cathedral of St. George’s during Tutu’s sermon at an ecumenical service.
            Tutu stopped preaching and just looked at the intruders as they lined the walls of the cathedral, wielding writing pads and tape recorders to record whatever he said   and thereby threatening him with consequences for any bold prophetic utterances.
            They had already arrested Tutu and other church leaders just a few weeks before and kept them in jail for several days to make a statement and a point:  religious leaders who take on leadership roles in the struggle against apartheid would be treated like any other opponents of the Pretoria regime.
            After meeting their eyes with his in a steely gaze, Tutu acknowledged their power, saying, “You are powerful,  very powerful.”  But then he reminded them that he served a higher power greater than their political authority:  “I serve a God who cannot be mocked!”
            Then in an extraordinary challenge to political tyranny, Archbishop Desmond Tutu told the representatives of South African apartheid, “Since you have already lost, I invite you today to come and join the winning side!”  He said it with a smile on his face and enticing warmth in his invitation, but with a clarity and a boldness that took everyone’s breath away. 
            The congregation’s response was electric.  The crowd was literally transformed by the bishop’s challenge to power.  The heavily armed security forces that surrounded the cathedral and greatly outnumbered the band of worshipers.  Yet the congregation was moved—empowered—to literally leap to their feet, shouting the praises of God.            They began dancing.  They danced out of the cathedral to meet the awaiting police and military forces of apartheid, who hardly expected a confrontation with dancing worshipers.  Not knowing what else to do, they backed up to provide the space for the people of faith to dance for freedom in the streets of South Africa.
           
            Some time later, a few days before Nelson Mandela was inaugurated as President of South Africa, Wallis remembers wondering, “Who would have ever believed?  And that’s just the point, he says.  We have to believe.
            I know…   I know…   What we see going on in our nation and in the world seems overwhelming.
            And yet, we are called.  Christ has given us a Great Commission:   You shall be my witnesses.
            We have Christ’s promise:  You will receive power…
             
            Like the first disciples, we have the promises of God to cling to, even in times of sorrow and anxiety.   These promises are ours, even at times when it seems that Christ has vanished and the Holy Spirit is not breathing down our necks or in our lives.[2][1]  
            So let us cling to God’s promises and rejoice in them. There will be accomplishments and setbacks, joys and sorrows. In the midst of it, we can trust that God is with us, comforting, celebrating with us, accompanying and strengthening us, even when we can’t see it. We can give thanks that God is preparing us to live with less fear and more generosity, preparing us to look out for the rights of others, and to work for a more merciful and just world.
            Thanks be to God!



[1] Jim Wallis, God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It.”  HarperSanFrancisco, 2006.




[1]I am grateful to Marjorie Menaul for this phrase, which really resonated with me.

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

"Power to Love". A sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on John 14:15-21

"Power to Love"

John 14:15-21



"If you love me, you will keep my commandments." 
Do you remember the setting in which Jesus said those words?  It was the night before he would die, when the darkness of the world was closing in.  Jesus had gathered his closest friends to share a final meal. Rising from the table, he took a towel, wrapped it around him, and washed his disciples’ feet.
Then, after telling his disciples that one of them would betray him, he says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you….By this everyone will know you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
We have in this section of John, in a nutshell, Jesus’ own definition of what it means to be his disciple. 
In today’s gospel lesson we hear Jesus say, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.” We need to remember what Jesus said earlier that evening about his commandments: “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you….This I command you, that you love one another.”  We need to remember that, in the gospel of John, Jesus only gives his disciples one commandment: “Love one another. Love one another as I have loved you.”
So that’s it:  that’s the commandment Jesus is talking about.  Love one another.  All of Jesus’ other teachings about how to live are a fleshing out of this commandment… and showing his disciples then and now how the commandment to love is worked out in our day to day living.
John wrote his gospel long after Jesus was gone.  The gospel is written looking backwards, in the midst of a community for whom Jesus was only a memory.  Most of the people in John’s community had never met Jesus.  Most—if not all—of the disciples were dead.  The Temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed—which a lot of folk thought was a sign that the end-time would come son. 
But the end-time didn’t come.  Life went on, and that was, in some ways, the hardest part of all.  Even when all the signs seemed right, Jesus hadn’t come back.  This community of believers felt pushed to the very edge of despair and defeat. 
So, John pulled together many of the things Jesus said into this one section of the Gospel we know as “The Farewell Discourse.”  Here at the table, we hear Jesus say some of the same things over and over, in different ways, to make sure the disciples get it.   The central word is love.  “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.”  “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.”  “Whoever does not love me does not keep my words.”  “I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”    The word used here for love—agape—describes the kind of love that Jesus showed us: self-giving love that seeks the good of the other, generous, sacrificial love.
I imagine the disciples must have wondered, “But how can we do that?”  They knew they had a hard time loving each other even while Jesus was with them.  Jesus has been telling them that he is going to leave them.  How could they love in the Jesus loves-- if he’s gone?
That night, the disciples haven’t yet seen the depths of Jesus’ love for them—a love that would lead to the cross and the tomb, that would tear him away from them. That night, they couldn’t have guessed that they would lose him twice: that after his death, he would return in the glory of resurrection, and then be taken from their sight in the ascension. That night, they were still basking in his physical presence as he began the long farewell talk that we hear continued in today’s gospel.
Knowing that they have come to depend on his presence, Jesus wants to reassure his disciples. Before he goes away, he tells them, "I will not leave you orphaned."
If that seems an odd phrase to use with these adults, consider that the word John’s gospel uses for "orphan" means "torn away from."
Of course, they would have each other.  Jesus had told them to love each other—but I wonder just how comforting that was. Each of the disciples must have known in his heart how hard it is to love the way Jesus loves.   
If we could just love God and love one another as Jesus loves, there wouldn’t be any need for any other commandments or laws or rules.  But that commandment to love is a tall order. 
Given the realities of our lives and the realities of the people we live and work with—how do we find it possible to obey this commandment to love?  In this world we live in, given all the people we encounter who are different from us, and who don’t value the same things we do, how do we love as Jesus loves?
God knows—it isn’t easy.  The truth that Jesus wants us to live by—the truth of love—is a love that the rest of the world can’t understand or make sense of.  It’s a love that makes us different.
We don’t always live up to this truth. We sometimes fall short of the kind of love that Jesus wants us to show in our lives. Throughout history, we see examples of how Christians have failed to live up to the love to which Jesus calls us.
            Love is at the heart of what Jesus commands us to do.  Love. That’s what the Holy Spirit works to make possible in each of our lives.  Love not just for our families, not just for our friends, not just for people that we like.  No, love even for our enemies. That’s the kind of love that God is calling us toward.
This kind of love to which Jesus calls us is hard.  We can’t do it alone.  It’s humanly impossible.  But Jesus promises that we won’t be alone.  “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.  This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him.  You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.”
The Greek word translated as "advocate" — "paracletos", or Paraclete —means "one called alongside, to help."
I like the way David Lose puts it: “You have an advocate! Someone who is looking out for you. Someone who is on your side. Someone who encourages you and supports you. Someone who speaks up for you and is willing to hang in there with you through thick and thin.”[1]
Friends, it’s hard to love one another, in the way Jesus loves. It’s hard to be generous and brave and compassionate--especially when you’re afraid or you feel like nobody hears you or you feel alone or abandoned or left out.
But the good news is that God is with us and has come to us in Christ to show us what God wants for us: health and healing…love and belonging and community… justice and peace…and a life of abundance. 
God came in Christ to show us how far God is willing to go to show us how much God loves us. God raised Jesus from the dead to show us that goodness is stronger than evil and love is stronger than death.
God keeps coming to us in the Holy Spirit to encourage us and guide us and care for us and walk with us, to be our Advocate. Jesus promises that the Holy Spirit will come to us with truth, with gifts, and the power to be faithful disciples.  The Spirit will be with us, helping us, giving us the power to love.
Thanks be to God!

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
May 21, 2017



[1] David Lose, “You have an advocate.” Posted at his blog, In the Meantime, at http://www.davidlose.net/2017/05/easter-6-a-you-have-an-advocate/