Jesus shows us that the way to deal with fear isn’t to fight or flight. It’s about trusting God in the middle of things and know we are together.
dealing with our fear
Easter 5A | John 14:1-14
Sometimes Jesus says it weird. “Do not let your hearts be troubled” is a strange way of saying don’t be sad.
And then it gets even weirder if we think about it.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.”
So now it’s my fault that I’m upset? As if we allow ourselves to feel things.
And it’s a phrase that brings to mind the callous suggestion to “get over it” when someone you love dies. Or its encouragement to “buck up” when having to go to work during a pandemic.
It puts all the pressure on us. Master your emotions because I command you to.
So when I hear that phrase
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.”
I get kinda mad at Jesus.
emotion
We know Jesus isn’t emotion-shaming us. He isn’t saying we’re terrible people for feeling afraid right now. That’s why the phrasing is really striking me this morning.
Let’s think back to this point in John’s vision of the gospel. They sat down for dinner for the last time. Jesus got up and washed their feet. The betrayer left them. Jesus announces Peter will deny him.
That’s when he says
“Do not let your hearts be troubled.”
In the midst of confusion and pain. Fear and worry.
Perhaps there is something in us that we can control. We aren’t mindless beasts, surviving purely on instinct. The phrase does have a kind of “steel yourself” vibe to it.
And yet, that isn’t at all his message. His message is to trust in him and in God.
So it isn’t about shaming you for your emotions.
And it isn’t about getting over yourself.
He’s saying
You don’t have to worry. I’m with you.
unlikely
Interesting how the big three (Peter, James, and John) are conspicuously absent. Philip and Thomas speak up. Both disciples are often treated like skeptics. But this passage reveals the longing in their hearts.
Think of gathering on Maundy Thursday: of washing feet and eating together; moments that aren’t exactly solemn. In fact, they’re almost joyful in their reverence. But that falls away as the lights go down. And strip the altar.
Because we know the story, we know what’s coming.
The Cross.
And with it, pain and anguish, tears and selfish longing for it to be over. To just get to the other side, to Easter.
We always celebrate Holy Week from the other side of the story. With the knowledge of the resurrection always present.
That’s the same move the lectionary is giving us today. We’re looking back at Maundy Thursday and the promise that we have nothing to fear because Jesus is with us from this side of the resurrection. We get to see this promise fulfilled.
So we see Jesus, not as snarky but as loving his disciples.
We don’t see them as skeptics showing a lack of trust, but followers longing to trust Jesus. How can we know the way? This is the truest, most faithful response from the heart of pain there is!
COVID and Maundy Thursday
Today we receive this fulfilled promise anew. Not in a Holy Week, but a season of Holy Quarantine. A never-ending Maundy Thursday. The communion is all gone, and we, sent back to our homes to vigil while we wait it out.
Of course, the reason we get this story in Easter is not to live in the pain of saying goodbye, but so that now we can see what Jesus is offering them before he goes away.
A way of saying you’ve got this. But not because you alone are strong. Or you alone are capable. Or you alone are gifted. You’ve got this because I’ve got this. God’s got this.
And just like Philip and Thomas, we might not fully grasp what that means.
How does any of us “have this” in the middle of a pandemic?
That’s the question disciples always ask.
It’s a bold question, after all.
But it isn’t one that Jesus answers. He didn’t spend his last moments articulating the triune formulation of classical Christian theology. He didn’t answer their questions about the nature of the world or blow their minds with science. There’s no script defining what true followers of Jesus are supposed to believe.
He washed their feet.
And now they’re asking about the way and not knowing where to go or what to do next. Like college graduates wondering what it’s like to have a “real” job. Or a widow who has lost a spouse. Parents whose children have grown.
What are we supposed to do now? As if Jesus is going to be like, Here’s what you need to know about a 401k.
These questions, like our fears and anxieties are honest and consuming. We don’t know when we’ll be doing church together, going out to eat, or visiting family. We don’t know what the future holds. But Jesus was never going to answer that.
But he does something even crazier. He answers the question they aren’t asking. The question we’re always asking behind the other questions.
How will I know?
How will I know when I’ve done it right? Am I on the right path? Am I supposed to know?
And Jesus’s answer is simple. Are you going where he’s going?
Serving the poor and the weak? The powerless and the helpless? The destitute and the disenchanted? Are you going where he’s going?
To slums and the nursing homes, the cities and the countryside? To secluded lakes and busy rivers? Are you going where he’s going?
Onto Facebook and Twitter, YouTube and Instagram? To online communities and places of support? Are you going where he’s going?
The question isn’t What do I do next? which we ask to God out there in the universe somewhere. It’s more like asking ourselves Can I see Jesus from where I’m standing? Does this look remotely like the right direction?
If you can say yeah, then you’re good.
Jesus is being incredibly radical here. He’s saying This, here, with me. This is how you know God.
This is what he’s telling them! If you know Jesus at all, then you know God! And we know that this revolutionary concept is expanded exponentially by the Holy Spirit. Because when you look at a person and go Wow, there is something Jesusy there. That’s how we see God.
Longing for each other, dreaming of being together, praying for each other’s safety, keeping the flames of hope alive: that is knowing God.
As much as this pandemic feels like a burden on our hearts and souls, I have never seen God more alive in our common spirit than I have in these weeks. Alive in our hope and faith and trust. Alive in that very spirit of anticipation and yearning. Trust him! You know the way!