Easter 5 A: Faithful Lament

John 14:1-14

Dear Partner in Preaching,

Tucked into the middle of the passage from John appointed for this 5th Sunday of Easter – yes, it really is Easter even though the RCL has dragged us back to Maundy Thursday in the narrative – tucked into to the middle of this passage are some of the most memorable, even iconic verses from the Fourth Gospel: “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” “In my Father’s house there are many rooms.” “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” And “If in my name you ask for anything, I will do it.” Each of these could be a sermon in and of itself, often wrestling with some of the rich and complicated ways in which we read and hear these verses.

Perhaps precisely because of this cluster of iconic verses, however, it’s easy to overlook the notes of confusion and fear, if not downright protest, also contained here. When Jesus says, for instance, as he prepares his disciples for his imminent departure – this is the night before his crucifixion, keep in mind – that “you know where I am going?”, Thomas shoots back, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Perhaps, as is sometimes the case in John, that question serves mainly as the prompt for Jesus’ pronouncement about being the way, truth, and life. Perhaps. But it doesn’t diminish the down-to-earth and somewhat painful frustration embedded in Thomas’ exclamation and question.

Similarly, Philip’s incredibly audacious request – keep in mind the long Old Testament tradition of recognizing that mere mortals cannot bear to see God unmediated – to “show us the Father” implies a deep longing, even sense of desperation, to have a tangible sense and experience of God’s presence. Again, perhaps it’s the foil to invite Jesus’ response, “If you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” Perhaps. Yet the poignancy lingers.

I think, Dear Partner, that it’s these words of poignancy, absence, longing, and protest that speak most forcibly to me today. Maybe it’s because so few of us saw this pandemic coming. Maybe it’s because when it did come, few of imagined we’d be in this for so long. Maybe it’s because we have no idea of how long it will last. Maybe it’s all the fighting about when we should loosen restrictions and the counter narratives being wielded by opposing sides. Maybe it’s because even when things do get back to normal, most of us are realizing that the new normal won’t resemble the old normal of even this past early March for a long, long time. Maybe…. Well, you get the idea.

Which is why these words of isolation, confusion, and desperation are so important. Because absent the “reality check” they introduce, any words of consolation and hope we may offer – even if we mouth Jesus’ words of consolation and hope – will likely ring hollow in the ears of our hearers. But if we can give voice to all these other emotions – perhaps the most useful biblical word is “lament” – perhaps then we can hear Jesus’ words of response for what they are: promises. Promises made by one who is acquainted with sorrow, confusion, disappointment, and lament. This is, after all, the Word made flesh. That eternal Word of God, that is, who took on our flesh, sharing our lot and our life that we might know God not only cares, but also understands.

Biblical lament – most especially in the Psalms but throughout the biblical witness – was crucial in giving voice to all that is difficult to understand and endure precisely to clear the space in which to hear a word from the Lord as authentic and meaningful. So also today: acknowledge the pain, the fear, the confusion. But then go on to remind us that this is not the last word, that the difficult emotions are real and valid and worth giving voice to, but they are not the only reality, they don’t invalidate all that is good in our lives, and they are not the only words worth voicing.

So once we take Philip’s plea in response to Jesus’ pronouncement of his impending departure – “show us the Father!” – seriously, then and only then can we hear, accept, and begin to understand Jesus’ answer – “if you have seen me, you have seen the Father.” Because the God Jesus shows us is not unmoved or dispassionate, not distant nor implacable, but rather passionately engaged in our life, pledged to our welfare, and committed to bringing us through all things so that we have not just life, but abundant life, in Jesus’ name.

Similarly, if we can cry out with Thomas, “We don’t know the way!” and feel no reproach that such words aren’t faithful enough, then and only then we can we trust that Jesus is the way, and that way includes the cross but ultimately leads toward resurrection.

No one says faith makes things easier – and neither the Bible nor history offer even the scantest evidence to such a conclusion. Rather, the life of faith makes things richer and more meaningful. Sometimes that means just getting by. At other times it means flourishing even in the most challenging of circumstances. But always it means that we do not travel alone, but with the presence of God, the one revealed in the person of Jesus. When the resurrected Jesus meets the disciples in the locked room on Easter evening, after all, he doesn’t say that now it’s all smooth sailing, or because he has defeated death life will now be a piece of cake. Rather, he breathes on them the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, Comforter, Encourager, and Helper. Why? Because across the rest of their lives and ministries, they’re going to need – on a pretty regular basis, to boot! – advocacy, comfort, encouragement, and help.

We have a long road ahead of us, Dear Partner, and only when we look at that road soberly and honestly – and then make space to give voice to our anxieties about it – can we remember that Jesus has already traveled it and accompanies us upon it now. Because he really is the way, the truth, and the life, the one who leads us to abundant life in and through his Father. Thanks be to God.

And thanks be to God for you, Dear Partner, for your words and fidelity this week and always. Take care of yourself. Don’t be afraid to ask the advice of others around you or to share your burdens with a few trusted colleagues. We’ve not been down this road before. But we don’t travel it alone either. Blessings.

Yours in Christ,
David