Fifth Sunday of Easter, Year C
May 19, 2019

We are thirty-five days into Eastertide, and our scripture lessons today describe visions: Peter’s vision, John of Patmos’ vision, and John the Evangelist’s vision. While Peter was in a trance of prayer, he had a life-changing dream that revealed there is no distinction between “them” and “us.” In other words, when it comes to the redeeming urge or work of the Holy One, (also known as Jesus Christ for Christians), there is no Jew or Gentile, no free or slave, no male and female, [1]  no insiders and outsiders, no gender binary; all people are one. While there are always those in the center and those on the margins, those with more power and those with less, those of us who have and use more than our fair share of resources and those who do not have their basic needs met, we are all one. Peter realizes that he should not be hindering the work of God by deciding who is inside and who is outside of God’s reach when it comes to sacred and profane practices. Here’s where we often get tripped up as Christians. How does any of us decide what is godly is and what it’s not? Well, for starters, as our Presiding Bishop Curry is fond of saying, “if it’s not about love, it’s not about God.” Of course it gets complicated, but that’s where we start. If it looks like there are competing interests that all have to do with love, we might need to enlarge our view. We might need to look at the situation from 30,000 feet where differences become imperceptible.

The Revelation to John also comes through meditation, during which he experiences a vision of the Divine setting everything right that the Roman empire is getting completely wrong. Exiled on the Island of Patmos, John visualizes the Holy One at home among mortals — the Eternal dwelling secure among them. John sees the grief and weeping and pain ending – his own and his people’s — and everyone who is thirsty having enough to drink. Sometimes I think that our own vision of the realm of God is limited, constrained by our lack of thirst for water from the spring of the water of life. John of Patmos’ vision is of God with us (Emmanuel) – and, building on Peter’s insight, “us” means everyone. There is no them.

And the Gospel of John envisions a time when Jesus’ followers are known by and known for their love. These few verses, which we heard Bob read a moment ago, are sandwiched between a hard place of Judas leaving to arrange for Jesus’ arrest, and a rock (also known as Peter) whom Jesus predicts will deny even knowing Jesus three times before the rooster signals the dawn. The glory and love Jesus is talking about are set right in the midst of the most painful betrayal and agonizing denial described in all of Christian scripture.

What do glory and love mean here in this dreadful spot? The root of the word “glory” (dox – as in doxology) means appearance as in manifestation. [2]  Doxology is language of manifestation. Our word paradox means different from or in contrast to (para) how something seems or appears (dox). Orthodox means right or correct appearance or manifestation. So the beginning of our Gospel lesson could be translated, “Now the Son of Humanity has appeared and God has appeared in him. If God has been made manifest in him, Godself will also appear in him and will appear in him immediately.” So glorification is an appearance or manifestation of the Divine in this case, here in the midst of the worst scenario imaginable to Jesus’ followers. 

As I often do, I want to talk some about translation. “Children,” Jesus says, (the word little isn’t there –just children – maybe in the sense of tender and naïve, not fully matured or wisened?) I don’t know why Jesus calls his friends “children” here. “I am with you only a little,” Jesus says. He says, “You will look for me, and where I am going you cannot come.” In the verse just following our reading, Jesus clarifies – you can’t follow me now, but you will follow afterwards – very sad, but not permanently sad.

Then John the Evangelist’s account has Jesus talking about how he has previously said something to “the Judayoi” – rendered “Jews” in our NRSV. (That has become permanently sad, because, of course they were all Jews. I say permanently sad because our scripture translations continue to incite violence and murder.) Judayoi here should either be translated Judeans (in contrast with Galileans) or understood as completely anachronistic and antithetical to Jesus’ life and witness. For our reading today, I translated it “people” to distinguish between Jesus’ public preaching and his teaching in this intimate setting.

Whenever I encounter this passage, I trip over the line about “a new commandment, that you love one another.” And I always think, that’s not a new commandment. That’s as old as Moses (which is not quite as old as dirt, …adamah… or Adam, but pretty close)! Why is this getting called a new commandment? What is new about the commandment to love one’s neighbor as oneself? It’s only new like a new moon. 

I’m more sure than ever that the command here is not “to love one another.” A closer translation is, “A new command I am giving to you in order that you may love one another, just as I loved you in order that or so that you may love one another.” The word “should” should not be inserted. The command that Jesus has given in the portion just before this reading is to wash one another’s feet. Serve one another, care for one another. Get your hands dirty – risk contamination, risk becoming unclean in service to one another. As far as I know, the command to wash one another’s feet, assuming a posture of kindness, of presence, of service, behaving as if we are all servants, is a new command. There are Torah instructions to wash one’s own hands and feet. There is customary hospitality to offer water and a place to wash, and when available, servants to help. But Jesus takes a towel and he kneels down and washes his followers’ feet and then tells them to do that for one another. Wash one another’s feet. I think that’s the new commandment. This command to wash one another’s feet might be the 614th commandment!

The purpose is to demonstrate your love for one another. Just as I have loved you, in order that you have love for one another. This is how people will know that you’re Jesus followers – when you demonstrate your presence, your kindness, your service for one another. Jesus says, “in order that, or so that, you love one another” three times. That means he really means it. It also means it probably wasn’t happening so much. If it had been happening, there wouldn’t be any need to write it down and to emphasize it by saying it three times. I mean, no one says three times “I’m giving you this new dish soap so that you will wash the dishes” if the dishes are already washed and put away, right? And of course, it’s hard enough to do this for our family and friends. Jesus teaches that we must perform humble acts of presence, kindness and service for our enemies as well.

Indeed, there are times in the history of Christianity when we have been known for our works of presence, kindness, and service. Yet, we can probably all agree that our past is checkered, at best. But listen to Tertullian’s description of church practice in the good old days of the early second century of the common era: “On the monthly day… each puts in a small donation; but … only if he be able: for there is no compulsion; all is voluntary. These gifts are, as it were, piety’s deposit fund. For [funds] are not taken thence and spent on feasts, and drinking-bouts, and eating-houses, but to support and bury poor people, to supply the wants of boys and girls destitute of means and parents, and of old persons confined now to the house; such, too, as have suffered shipwreck; and if there happen to be any in the mines, or banished,…or shut up in the prisons…. it is mainly the deeds of a love so noble that lead many to put a brand upon us. See, they say, how they love one another, for [they] themselves are animated by mutual hatred; how they are ready even to die for one another, for they themselves will sooner put to death. And they are [intensely angry] with us, too, because we call each other [family]; for no other reason, as I think, than because among themselves names of [ancestral heritage] are assumed in mere pretense of affection… we do not hesitate to share our earthly goods with one another. All things are common among us but our wives. …. Whatever it costs, our outlay in the name of piety is gain, since with the good things of the feast we benefit th[ose who are] needy.” [3]  Tertullian doesn’t quite get the lack of distinction between us and them here, but he beautifully describes what it means to act like a Jesus follower. His vision is beautiful and true to my experience when we are functioning well. 

When we are functioning well, we are actively engaged in behaviors that are encouraging those who are afraid, nourishing those who are hungry, healing those who are suffering, forgiving those who are guilty, redeeming those who have been undervalued, freeing those who are stuck or imprisoned, inspiring those who are dispirited, reviving those who are tired. The work of Christian community, as Curtis Almquist has said, is the work of moving from “judgment of others to compassion for others to identification with others.”

What surprising vision of peace might animate you? What astonishing disclosure of Divine love might be speaking to you wherever (or whenever) you are between a hard place and a rock, in the midst of betrayals and failures, ignorances and misunderstandings? The point is to turn away from cynicism and sarcasm and fear, and move toward right relationship, authentic and deeply respectful relationship, with the Divine, with family members, with friends and strangers, and maybe even with those who are out to get you. So what is the most potent next step you can take to live more fully into that vision? Whatever it is, I beg you to take it.

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