SunMay92010
John 14:23-29
The Peace Only God Can Give
From the time I was a small child I loved hearing the Bible read aloud. I had the distinct advantage of hearing it in the majestic/poetic language of the King James Bible. And I had another unique advantage. My father, Hamilton’s grandfather, who was the minister of a church in Oak Park, Illinois, read scripture with elegance. And both my mother and my father read it aloud at home from time to time. So early on I was exposed to the wonder of the images and stories of the Bible in the beauty of Elizabethan English.
Later I went to Wellesley College which at that time required the study of the Bible. Those studies of the Bible, under the guidance of brilliant teaching, opened up its mystery and meaning and that really set the direction of my life. Is it any wonder that I went to seminary and married my New Testament professor?
One recent incident will show you how ingrained this love of the Bible is for me. A few years ago I had to get a new license plate for the car I drive. As I stood in line at the Motor Vehicles office I consciously dreaded the prospect of having to force into my head one more meaningless number alongside the countless phone numbers, zip codes, pin numbers, passwords, user names and ID numbers that were crowding my memory. The woman who took my application turned to a shelf piled high with license plates. When she uncovered my plate, there before me was the number 1611- the date the King James Bible first came out. Had there not been a counter between us I’d have hugged her. I was elated. And you will find in your parking lot today a white Camry with the date of the first King James Bible, 1611, on its Maine license plates.
And why do I tell you of these moments in my life? Well when I received the invitation to preach here this morning I had some real misgivings. Was I too old to preach in this great church or in any church? When did any of us last hear an 83 year old preach the gospel from a pulpit? And I had not preached at all for nine years. Would I be able to live up to the confidence my son had in me and meet your various needs and expectations? Of course I had misgivings.
But then I discovered that the gospel reading for this Sunday was the passage in the 14th chapter of John which includes the words Jesus spoke to his disciples just before his death: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” There in those words of Jesus was the gospel itself, the good news we come here to hear. The decision was made for me and those amazing words took charge. I stopped worrying about my misgivings and about myself and started to focus on those words, on what they meant to the disciples and what they mean to all of us with our varied needs.
Just picture it. Jesus, who was revered, loved and followed, was about to die. His followers knew that. They were distraught. And he said: “Peace I leave with you….Let not your hearts be troubled.” Troubled? How could their hearts not be troubled? They were way past that. And Jesus knew it. His response not only took their distress seriously but it was directed at the distress itself.
Because Jesus knew what lay ahead for him he also knew what lay ahead for them; that they would wake up one morning soon and they would no longer hear his voice or watch him teach and heal. Their hopes would be dashed, their grief would be overwhelming and their lives would be dramatically altered. How in heaven’s name could they continue the work of discipleship, of bringing healing to the broken, hope to those in despair and joy to those who were in sorrow? That was their calling as disciples just as it is ours. Of course Jesus knew of their anxiety. And he showed that he knew when he then said: “I do not give to you as the world gives.”
What peace does the world give? Actually the peace the world gives is often quite wonderful. It may be the absence of war among nations or the absence of strife and hostility in our homes, places of work and communities. It may be in getting away from a hectic life for a vacation or settling a dispute with a colleague or a loved one. It may be in the quiet when our infant child stops crying and falls asleep. The peace the world gives is gracious and precious but it is temporary. It is not enough when everything you have counted on and lived for is about to be taken away. Where is the peace the world gives then? Where is the peace that empowers us to carry on as disciples? How is it possible to deliver the goods when your inspiration is gone and you’re on your own?
We all struggle with that. It is tempting to resort to platitudes and sentimental formulas, and facile answers by which faith becomes a lucky charm. We see it all the time - what I would call the domestication of Jesus by which faith becomes a lucky charm. I’ll put it to you as a question. What does it mean when we see running backs kneeling in the end zone crossing themselves? Even Ohio State can’t claim special divine favor. What does it mean when we see a survivor of a tornado thanking God for saving the life of her child while a nearby parent grieves the loss of his? Surely God does not choose one child over another. What does it mean when God becomes a puppeteer expected to do our bidding, to get us a job, heal our diseases and make our team win. Whatever peace we know when we blow out the candles on the birthday cake and those wishes come true can hardly be the peace we long for when we experience the death of a loved one or lose a job, or when our hopes and dreams come crashing down. To settle for the peace the world gives is to miss the good news that is the gospel. It is to miss the peace that sustains us in loss and disappointment; the peace that makes us live lives of gratitude, that empowers us to carry on as disciples in our time and in this place.
(14:19)“In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father- Mother (in God’s very self) and you in me and I in you…I have said these things to you while I am still with you. (25)But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom God will send in my name will teach you everything and remind you of all that I have said to you.” Then and only then can we hear and know the promised peace and find the vision and courage to carry on God’s work of justice and love against terrible odds.
Marion Wright Edelman, head of the Children’s Defense Fund, told a story about Sojourner Truth. Sojourner Truth was a slave woman who never knew much of the world‘s peace but she knew the peace given her, that empowered her to make real God‘s love in the world. She could neither read nor write, but she never gave up fighting against slavery or the second class treatment of women…Once a heckler told Sojourner that he cared no more for her anti-slavery talk than for a flea bite. “Maybe not, was her answer, but the Lord willing, I’ll keep you scratching.”
Mrs. Edelman added “enough fleas biting strategically can make even the biggest dog, biggest institutions of government very uncomfortable. If they flick some of us off and others keep coming back we will begin to oil the creaks of our institutions that many say no longer work.” (New Yorker, June, 1983). The profound peace known by a prophet herself is life itself.
The peace of God comes to those who know disappointment, sorrow and grief and also to those who listen for truth and seek justice; to those who, though they are flicked off with disdain, keep coming back with joy and courage.
William Sloane Coffin once said: “I love the recklessness of faith. First you leap, and then you grow wings.” (Credo, p. 7)
Sometimes we come up against circumstances and struggles, disappointment and grief that resist any answers, circumstances in which there seems to be only silence and darkness, the very absence of peace. Is it really that or is it God’s way of showing us the deepest truth of life and death, that God is with us always, that God’s is the first of all our hearts to break when we suffer, that God’s peace is promised in sorrow and guilt and loneliness, in all our questions and defeats. To know that is “to leap and then grow wings.”
I am so often afraid, in our time that we will lose touch with that treasure, with mystery itself, with the peace that brings us comfort and calls us to bring healing and hope wherever we are.
And then I remember: “Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give as the world gives. Let not your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.” Amen