It is good to be back in worship with you all after a couple of weekends away. I was only actually out of town for one week, but at this time last week, I was still snoozing a bit since we didn’t get home from the Honduras medical mission trip until about midnight the night before worship after a travel day that started at 4 am. So! It is good to be back with you.
While we were in Honduras, one of the things we did each evening was meet after dinner for a time of debriefing the day, reflecting on our experiences, and planning the next day’s service teams. For our reflection time one evening, the devotional we were using posed this question for our discussion, “Where do you see optimism and hope today?”
Now with a little distance, I can see what I did next was probably splitting hairs, but in my defense, in the moment it felt like an important distinction to me. To to me at least, optimism and hope are not the same thing. So I added an additional question to tease that out from our group. “What’s the difference between optimism and hope?”
That did not go as I thought it would. We went around the circle and almost to a person most of the participants said something to the effect of hope is just wishful thinking and optimism is an outlook that moves them toward a better future. When my turn came last, I announced that I needed throw away at least a dozen sermons because I hear those words, and have preached about those words, with the exact opposite connotations. I hear optimism as a passive rosy outlook and understand hope as that which inspires us to actively make the future a better place. (I told you it might be splitting hairs.) But in my defense, in that moment, I was learning that maybe my words for almost 24 years of ministry made absolutely no sense to other people. Lovely. Humbling.
Well, instead of throwing away sermons, I’m finding myself doubling down this week. Sorry to the trip participants here this morning.
OK, maybe not doubling down. I’d like to think of this more of a middle ground…
Here in the gospel of John we find the disciples in desperate need of reassurance from Jesus. While we are reading about this interaction during the season of Easter, with resurrection celebrations still fresh in our minds and songs on our lips, the conversation it depicts took place during the last supper. Jesus, gathered with his disciples for what will become his final meal with them, has washed their feet in a confusing act of servitude. He has talked about his impending death. He has made it clear that Judas will betray him. He has told Peter that he will deny Jesus three times before the night is over. Everything is feeling topsy-turvy in this dinner, and Jesus knows it, so he launches into what we call his “Final Discourse” with the words we heard today. “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”
Easier said than done, I always want to say next. Of course their hearts are troubled! They have just heard very troubling news! But, Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” as he lovingly, carefully, masterfully paints a picture with his words of a very optimistic future. He tells them about the abundance of rooms in his Father’s house. He promises that he is going ahead to fix it up really nice. He reassures them that not only do they know how to get there already, he’ll come back to walk them home himself someday so that where he is, they will be also.
It’s beautiful. It’s reassuring. It’s why verses 1-6 are a fairly common passage to be read at memorial services, and I will never ever stop doing that.
And still, outside of that funereal context, I think it’s important that we keep reading beyond the reassurance and optimism, because if we stop here we risk adopting a mentality or even a spirituality that is really quite limited. We could read these words as single-mindedly focused on some distant future, some misunderstanding of a heavenly geography where we find ourselves dancing on puffy clouds surrounded by angels playing harps where there’s ice cream to enjoy any time of day. (Is that last part just my version of heaven?) Like Philip we might just want to say, “Sounds great! Point the way!”
But while Jesus is preparing himself and the disciples for his death, he is also talking to them about how they are called to go on living.
- How they supposed to act in a world that puts innocence to death
- Who they are supposed to be when the humanity of those who are oppressed is denied, when rights and life are stripped from those who are marginalized
- What they are supposed to do when the optimistic, promised future is not reflected in the present, everyday reality
Believe in him, he says. Believe. It’s another one of those verbs that *could* sound like a mere mental exercise, but Jesus doesn’t let it work that way. Believing, Jesus says, really isn’t believing the way he means it, until it changes our living. Believing in Jesus, trusting in his promise of an optimistic future, is not a passive activity because in the way he talks about it, belief is made active through the work of our lives. The way to the dwelling places that Jesus prepares is made, he says, by walking in the way and the truth and the life of Jesus himself – not because we earn a palatial residence by completing a spiritual marathon, but because by walking in his way of mercy, following his truth of justice and love, living in the pattern of his life, we help make that life of communion with God and creation real and present here and now, not in some distant future.
By answering the call to serve those whom Jesus served, to love those who feel unlovable, to give power to those who have had it held out reach, to share our abundance with those in need, we do his work in the world. We step into the roles and the rooms he has prepared us for, sometimes even when we don’t feel ready or worthy. But that’s because we don’t get ready on our own. We don’t make ourselves worthy of our own accord. Instead because the One we follow is one with God, and the glory of his life is bright enough to illuminate our lives, the works we do are part of his work in the world. They help build the optimistic future he promises. They are living acts of hope.
