Fifth Sunday in Easter
Year A, RCL
May 10,2020
North Fork Ministries
Gospel:
John 14:1-14
Jesus said, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way to the place where I am going." Thomas said to him, "Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?" Jesus said to him, "I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him."
Philip said to him, "Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied." Jesus said to him, "Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, `Show us the Father'? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it."
Jesus said to his disciples, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.” That’s easy for Jesus to say. Less than half the way through 2020, we are in the midst of a global pandemic, the economy is in worse shape than it has been since the Great Depression, millions are unemployed, our health care system is in crisis, people are isolated, lonely, depressed and dying.
When we reflect on those things, not only does one’s heart become troubled, if we dwell on those problems too long, we may feel our hearts moving into tachycardia.
But nonetheless, Jesus said, "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house there are many dwelling places.”
It’s not as if Jesus’ contemporaries didn’t face anxieties of their own. Lest we forget, Jesus’ homeland daily dealt with the anxiety of Roman occupation, taxes were unjustly levied, career opportunities beyond subsistence farming and fishing were few. Life expectancy was a fraction of what it is today. And for Jesus personally, remember that that “there was no place for the Son of Man to lie his head”, there were disciples to feed, an endless stream of people expecting him to perform miracles. And then there was that looming specter of death on the cross, that must have weighed heavily on his mind.”
So was the heart of Jesus troubled? If he possessed a human heart, as we believe he did, how could it not have been? Yet he tells his disciples that in my Father’s house are many dwelling places, and then he tells them of the Father that dwells within him. It was the Father that dwelled within Jesus that was the source of his untroubled heart.
The question facing us today, our congregation, our state, our nation - filled with anxiety, is this: How do we find the dwelling place that we are promised? How do we let go of our troubled hearts, and locate the God that dwells within us, as surely as God dwelled within the Christ.
The prospect of letting go reminds me of the story the man who fell into a very deep well and plummeted a hundred feet before grasping a spindly root, stopping his fall. His grip was growing weaker and weaker, and in his desperation he cries out, “Is there anybody up there?”
He looks up, and all he can see is a circle of sky. Suddenly the clouds part and a beam of bright light shines down on him. A deep voice thunders, “I, the Lord, am here. Let go of the root and I will save you.”
The man looks at the root he is clinging to, thinks for a moment, and then yells, “Is there anybody else up there?”
Letting go, it’s not such easy advice to take. We can’t really dismiss our worries. And, in fact, we shouldn’t. If we didn’t worry about our health, we might not socially isolate, wear a mask, eat better or exercise. If we didn’t worry about the environment, we might never do anything to protect it. If we didn’t worry about the hungry and unemployed, we might never do anything to alleviate their suffering.
But the state of anxiety doesn’t have to be our dwelling place. We are invited to live in a state of grace, peace, and freedom. Life’s troubles can spur us to action, alert us to injustice, motivate us to change. But we don’t have to live there. We are invited to rest in the place God has prepared for us.
The question is, how do we find that dwelling place? Jesus provides us with the destination, but he doesn’t always describe in explicit detail, how we are to get there. The development of the technology, the pathway to an untroubled heart, he left for his followers though the ages to work out on their own. And they have -from the Desert Fathers of the 2nd and 3rd century, within the monastic communities in the centuries that followed, from the great mystics of the middle ages, onto the Eastern influenced contemplative movement of the 20th century. I’d be happy to explore that history with you sometime, but I sense, within our community, such desperate hunger for an anxiety-free dwelling place, that I think we should plunge right in.
Contemplative prayer is one of those “spiritual technologies” available to us. Rather than just talk about contemplative prayer, let's practice it – now, wherever you are. Let’s begin by closing our eyes. Sit up fairly straight and place your feet squarely on the floor. Take a deep breath in, and let it out. Take in another breath, and let it out. Allow your shoulders to drop and the tension to release. Begin to focus on your breath. Gently watch yourself breathe. Breathe in and breathe out, bringing all your attention onto the breath, the breath of God. You will notice something very quickly. As you try to let go of a troubled heart, and bring all your attention to the present moment, thoughts will intrude. Gently let go of those thoughts. Not trying to force them out, but gently returning to the breath. When thoughts or worries arise, imagine that you are sitting on the bank of a gently flowing river. Boats that float down the river are like thoughts. You see the boats, acknowledge them, but allow them to float away. Just don’t climb on the boats. Remain on the riverbank. Breath in and breath out, resting in the dwelling place the Father has provided. Just breathe, in silence, for about a minute. ….Amen.
The practice of contemplative prayer is the practice of making room for God. God has promised to make room for us. Robert Jenson, in his book, The Doctrine of Creation, Jenson writes that, “If creation is God’s making room in himself, then God must be roomy…this roominess of God should be thought of as his “time”… God’s eternity is not immunity to time, but his having all the time he needs.”
God empties God’s self, to make room for us – creating space for us to breathe freely. We are called to emulate this divine action. We are called to empty ourselves, to empty our troubled hearts, and allow room for the divine self to enter in.
This morning I have the privilege of being in a sacred space in which people have prayed for over a 150 years - a physical dwelling place where until a few weeks ago we came to worship, serve God and the community. My hope and my prayer is that someday soon our church building will again be a sanctuary, a refuge, where all who enter in may experience the living presence of God and know an indwelling of the Spirit – a place where our hearts may not be troubled. But I also pray that during the Season of Corona we may become a people who carry the essence of a sacred dwelling within us. That we, like the snail or the crab who carries his dwelling with him, may come to know the Divine Breath as the sacred space that resides with us always, and that the words of the Psalmist may become our own:
“In you, O LORD, have I taken refuge;
Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe.”