4/30/24
John 14:6-14
I was trying to discern which scripture to talk about today
and after going back and forth on several ideas and not being able to decide
and stepping away from it and thinking some more and still not making a
decision, I thought I’d look to the liturgical calendar and see if there is a
feast day today. There isn’t, so I looked ahead one day and saw the feast day
of St Philip and St. James on the calendar for tomorrow. I decided to look at
the scriptures for their feast day. The Gospel starts with this well-known and beautiful
declaration by Jesus of who he is “I am the way, and the truth and the life …”
It’s a verse many know by heart and is frequently found on inspirational
devotions or artwork. But after that is when we get Philip.
First, some context- this passage is part of what’s called “The
Farewell Discourse” when Jesus is helping the disciples prepare for his death
and really bringing home everything he has been teaching them about who he is.
So Jesus washes the disciples’ feet, he foretells his betrayal and also he
foretells Peter’s denial of him. And then he starts giving them this beautiful
talk on who he is and his relationship with the Father. At the beginning of the
chapter read today is a passage that I have frequently preached at funerals “Do
not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my
Father’s house there are many dwelling places …” I love this passage and for so
many years it has brought comfort, hope and faith to those who have read it,
whether in times of pain, at the graveside of a loved one or in times of
despair.
But, right after Jesus says this, Thomas is like “Lord, we
do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” to which Jesus
responds with more beautiful explanation but then after that, Philip still is
like “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Which sounds to me
sort of like “ok, but can we have something more to hold on to, can you just
show us the Father because these beautiful words you are sharing and all the
many acts we have witnessed are not enough and we aren’t satisfied.” In his commentary
on this passage, Francis Moloney says, “To know Jesus is to know the Father,
and Philip is exasperatingly ignorant in asking Jesus to show the Father.”[1] “Exasperatingly ignorant” …
not a flattering description and yet …. This is the scripture we read for
Philip’s feast day, “exasperatingly ignorant” is how the church has remembered
him for thousands of years.
It makes me think of this stupid screwdriver we have at
home. We have had it for probably our entire 18 year marriage and I still can’t
figure it out. And it’s one of those ones with all the different heads so it’s
always the one most easily accessible in the house. It’s got the two rows on
the bottom where the various heads are and you have to turn to the one you want
and then click it back into place so that the screwdriver doesn’t keep shifting
when you are trying to use it. Every time I use it, I fiddle with it and turn
it and click it and it doesn’t work and then I asked Jeremiah to show me how to
use it, to which he responds with an exasperated “I thought I just showed you.”
And then eventually I just say forget it and use one hand to hold the stupid
thing in place and the other hand to turn it and make whatever I am working on
a million times harder. I don’t know why, but it just isn’t clicking with my
brain and I feel “exasperatingly ignorant” whenever I use it … like Philip … so
I guess one might say … I feel saintly in my inability to understand.
But I wonder … does anyone really understand? Like, really
get it? I’m talking about both the stupid screwdriver and all the mysteries of
life, death and resurrection. I actually really admire Philip in this passage.
These disciples didn’t know the Gospel story, they didn’t have commentaries and
sermons and thousands of years of hindsight to try to make sense of it all. It
was probably pretty mind-blowing. Jesus is like “me and the Father are one” and
Philip is like “that’s awesome, so like, show us the Father.” But the thing is,
in this context and given their relationships, I don’t get the impression
Philip is trying to be a jerk, but rather, he is genuinely seeking more. He is
digging deeper, trying to understand, and being brave enough to speak up when
he doesn’t, knowing that Jesus will help him get there.
“Not getting it” has been at the center of my faith
journey. I am a questioner. I want to understand and make sense of things and
that has lead me to a deeper and deeper walk with God over the years. When I
was 13 and taking confirmation classes, my pastor invited the students to ask
any questions they had relating to faith/God/church. I had many. The primary
one was “why do bad things happen to good people?” He listened to all of our
questions and wrote them on the chalk board. He heard them, honored them and
wrote them down for us to contemplate, but he didn’t get nervous or
uncomfortable or try to explain them away or give us knee jerk answers. We just
sat with them. And that was foundational to my faith. It was ok that I had
questions and I now had the footing to ask them and engage in a dynamic,
meaningful journey with God. It was shortly after that confirmation class that
I felt a calling to be a pastor. So my faith story, my call story, my life
story is centered around not knowing … “exasperating ignorance” you might say.
All these years later and I am still finding fresh ways to
not know what the heck is going on. We recently moved here for my husband to be
the Bishop of the Diocese and I think I underestimated how hard moving is … with
young kids. It really hit me how painful it would be to watch their pain at the
Christmas Eve service at our last church, the Christmas Eve service was our
last service there as the moving truck arrived on December 27th. That church
was the center of our world. I was on staff as the youth pastor and pastor of
visitation. I also led several groups and preached and all kinds of stuff. The
kids were in the youth choir, Sunday School, youth group, vacation Bible School,
ushers, acolytes and all kinds of stuff. But most importantly and the part that
made it so gut wrenching to leave- we were loved deeply there and we loved
deeply there. They were our people, our fellow travelers on the journey of
faith through hard times and good times. About halfway through the service I
looked up and saw the boys getting emotional up in the choir loft with their
chorister robes on. The dam was burst and my tears were flowing, I could hear
the sniffles all around me and then the head usher, a stately, big, military
guy who had just lost his wife suddenly and had taught Isaiah how to usher and
encouraged him, he motioned for Isaiah to come over to him and right there in
the service they were hugging and both crying. It was brutal and also really
beautiful. The boys’ friend walked us to our car … so many tears. I realized
that I was going to need to help them navigate this move, not just the packing
and the unpacking, but all of the emotional weight. And I wasn’t sure if I knew
how to do that.
And here we are, and while I have learned a lot in these
past few months and we have all grown in ways we didn’t expect. There is still
so much I don’t know. Ever since I left the church that I was solo pastor of
about 10 years ago, I have mostly done ministry with Jeremiah and was on staff
at his church. That has worked really well for the family and helped us find
routine, balance and time together. But now he is a Bishop and I have a lot to
figure out. People have asked me many, many times what I will be doing and if I
will start pastoring a church. I appreciate that they ask because it shows
their acknowledgement of my call and identity but the only answer I can come up
with is “I don’t know.” I know, it’s exasperatingly ignorant. I joked that when
people ask what I am working on I will start saying “anxiety and depression.”
In my quest to strengthen my faith through all this and
help me discern, I took up a Lenten practice that I had done several times
before and I started a daily prayer journal for Lent. I picked up an old
journal that I had used for several Lents years ago and as I opened it each day
to write I started flipping through the pages at the front. I began reading
entries from 2, 6 and 8 years ago. It reminded me of something that has been
central to my faith that somehow in all of the chaos of moving and losing old
patterns and being constantly plagued by indecision and not knowing which way
to go- I had stopped doing. In those old pages I wrote about where I saw God in
each day. It was sometimes really profound things like sitting next to the bed
as someone breathed their last and sometimes really simple things like extra
snuggles on the bed with my babies or a stunningly beautiful flower in my path.
So, I started being really intentional about doing that
again. It helped me focus on the present moment rather than the weight of a
million decisions or a future completely unknown. And I started finding my footing
again. It reminded me of how those of us who are exasperatingly ignorant get through
life- one step at a time, and of where we, who like Philip are searching for
the Father can find the presence of God, right here in our midst. Even if we
can’t explain all of the mysteries of the universe.
When we got into the car and started driving across the country,
I found myself starting to think about all of the people I have said goodbye to
over the years. People from all of the churches I have served over the years,
friends from all the places we have lived and loved ones that have died. And I
remembered this woman named Mary. She was an elderly member of the church I
pastored but by the time I came to that church she had a number of health
ailments that prevented her from leaving the house much and so I visited her at
her home. She had been through immense trauma, tragic deaths of loved ones and
so much pain both emotionally and physically and yet she was SO full of love.
Every time I left she asked me for a hug and she gave the absolute best hugs,
those really strong ones that don’t overpower you but also make you feel fully
embraced. Eventually she was in the hospital. It was time for the dialysis to
end. Her health was fading quickly. The family was told she would soon die and
they called me to come. I went to her hospital room and talked with her. She
was fully alert and fully smiling and her usual warm self. Her family started
to fill the room. I told her I would leave her to be with her family and she
asked me if I would stay. I of course said yes and sat in a chair by the bed. I
will never forget what that room felt like as one by one she gave a whole
hearted hug to her many loved ones. Everyone was crying and everyone was
smiling. She would look at me between hugs and smile. She died within hours. That
was the end of her life- big, full-bodied hugs filled with the warmth of her
never ending well of love. She gave me a gift by asking me to stay, one that I
will forever be grateful for.
I don’t think Mary had all of life figured out, if she did,
she never told me. But she sure did love Jesus. Through the darkness and the
light, she loved Jesus and she stayed on that journey with God even when it was
hard. It was love that sustained her and love that she gave to sustain others.
And if that’s what it looks like to not have all the answers, I will take it.
Jesus invites us to stay on the journey. He doesn’t give us
a quiz to see how many Bible passages we memorized or if we can adequately explain
the bodily resurrection. He keeps walking with us and showing up all around us
even when we aren’t taking the time to notice. For me, this is how healing comes,
by sticking with faith, by knowing that God isn’t leaving me, and that the love
of God will never end. Even when we are
exasperatingly ignorant.
