Jesus’s teaching on (in)dependence
Pentecost  |  Acts 2:1-21, John 14:8-17 (25-27)

We return again to the Last Supper as told in John, a sequence often referred to as Jesus’s farewell discourse. A conversation in which Jesus offers his final teachings, yes, but more assurance and comfort. And as we’ve been in this sequence the last few weeks, we ought to be quite familiar with the themes here: Jesus’s love and encouragement. The coming of the Holy Spirit. Unity in Jesus and with Jesus. 

We explored that last theme last week, in the Sunday after the Ascension, when Jesus prayed that the disciples would be one, and that all those who learned from the disciples, and the ones who learned from their disciples, and their disciples, all the way through time and space to this very moment — that we would all be one in Jesus. And not just one in our conflict-obsessed present understanding, but united in love through this divine partnership, through our very substance, as Jesus and God are one.

This all has been big, heady stuff. 

But perhaps only in the sense of certainty and physicality of the present world. That post-enlightenment obsession with a kind of binary certainty we call factual and not the messy, creative, and downright obstinate thing we call life. Where things are real until they are not. Creation has a way of messing with such certainties. Like the way observable truths stop being true because we have observed them. That’s my favorite phenomenon. And one we reason away as “not really true” rather than deal with the simpler fact that it was true and now is not. Reality can be wicked that way.

But Jesus is speaking to relationship. That he is one with God. And in Jesus, we are also one with God. Philip’s request represents, not curiosity or inquisitiveness, but a kind of obnoxious skepticism from outside the relationship. A way of saying “prove it,” rather than “help me see it.” Philip erects a wall to be scaled rather than a hand for guidance. 

In a very literal sense, Jesus has said to them that they know the way already. Jesus. He has assured them they already know this. This is what prompts Philip’s demand:

“Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.”

In other words, take us there. Onto which he adds the insult of then we’ll be satisfied. Jesus is showing them the way. In him! In relationship. And the disciples should know this already because this is what discipleship is. Following the rabbi and doing what he does so you can be in their presence and become like them.

Philip and the disciples know the way is the doing of the things and being with him! It’s like being on a roadtrip across the country and the driver gets out somewhere in Oklahoma and the guy in the passenger seat is like “I don’t know where I’m going” and there’s truth to that in a technical sense and also, we’re on the same road we’ve been on, just drive. Keep heading west. We’ll get there.

What’s behind our confusion

What the disciples in every age struggle with the most, I think, is this intrinsic relationship between us and our ideals. I am constantly asked what we ought to do in particular situations. Sometimes we’re looking for the protocol. Which is like, do I tip at checkouts with no waitstaff or am I obligated to donate to the scholarship fund in the Taco Bell drive thru? Other times we’re looking for moral clarity and the mind of Jesus. What can we do for those experiencing homelessness in our community? How can we advocate for a more just community?

We’re exploring conundrums, which bear the weight of partial truths and deep moral convictions for love, health, justice, and wholeness. We want to be good people, following Jesus’s Way of Love. And sometimes that path doesn’t seem as clear as we think it ought to. And our sense of “right” gets convoluted. 

So what do we do? We look to a learned expert. The disciples go to their rabbi to solve the problem. Answer the question. Tell them what to do.

And their rabbi says to them You know the way. Because we’ve been through all of this before. And the unspoken next line is So you won’t actually need me.

The Last Guru

The continental philosopher, theologian, and maverick Peter Rollins describes this idea as the Last Guru. He says that people are always looking to a guru to help them figure out life because we’re always messing it up. So a student goes looking and finds a guru who really resonates with them and helps them out a ton. The guru and the student learn from one another for a long time. Eventually the student reaches a point in which the guru can’t help them go any further.

So the student looks for another guru. And they do the same kind of thing. Learning and learning. And then, eventually, the second is disappointing, too. They had a drinking problem or said something vile to a staff member, so the student needs to look for the next one. You’ve seen this. Or experienced it. People keep searching for the guru who can help them now.

This process repeats until the student comes to the last guru who helps them see that the problem isn’t the limited ability of those other gurus or their own prideful circumstances. It was the student’s relationship to the guru. The last guru is the one who helps the student recognize that no guru can fix our problems for us. The key is in the relationship.

Jesus wants us to expand our vision so we can see the path itself is the Way. And it is our companionship with Jesus and our neighbors as we travel the path that reveals the true nature of God.

The Paraclete

In the NRSV translation, Jesus refers to The Advocate, which is a fantastic name for the Holy Spirit, isn’t it? Advocates are bold and help speak on our behalf. They are supporters and protectors and serve the needs of the powerless within structures where the institution has all of the power. 

It is a great word. And a bit misleading. Especially in the context.

The word in Greek is transliterated as Paraclete (or paracletos) and means “one called alongside.” The Paraclete is a companion called to walk alongside us as we travel Jesus’s Way of Love, which is how we know God.

This vision of the Holy Spirit is not half as exciting as the deafening winds and the tongues of fire we read about in Acts. That reflects how the Spirit shows up in the world sometimes. But this is how we are far more likely to experience her presence. As companions on a journey, copilots on the road. Which means, even when you’re driving alone, you can roll those windows down, lean your elbow on the door, let the wind blow over your face and hair and belt some Arcade Fire or Pearl Jam or Stevie Nicks or whatever you jam to because you are not alone because even driving down 41 is a roadtrip with your companions.

The Holy Both/And

Jesus keeps drawing this thing in circles over and over because we keep struggling to hold onto this theme of following in the Way of Love, of being in companionship with one another, in loving Jesus through our love for one another, in our embodying the love of Jesus in our flesh, our words, our lives. He keeps using present, embodying words, like be, become, and being. And he names his few commands as a way of ordering our lives around this love — the boundaries that help us live the way we desire to.

People throughout history have sought to isolate parts of this teaching. Which makes it easier to debunk or excuse or argue with them. We focus on the commands or the ordering or the theological constructs. Or we ignore them and focus on an amorphous sense of love that is pure vibes. And some will take the teachings and bend them to fit a narrow worldview of exclusion — where violence begets peace, hatred is called love, and rejection of the suffering of others is treated as necessary.

But we are especially attuned to the holy both/and aren’t we? 

So when we hear Jesus speak of relationship and commandment, we know these things don’t just fit together, they complete each other. Like taking a pair of two dimensional objects and introducing the third dimensional view.  It now has substance and weight and heft. We can hold it and touch it.

Commands and Relationships

Commands aren’t just rules, they are people and relationships and sunsets on the beach, skipping rocks into Lake Huron. They are tintype pictures taken with our phones and visits to the Swope Art Museum with our friends and hikes along the Wabashiki.

And all of this messiness which we’ve tried to pretend is below us, that is unnecessary — that if we just design the perfect system, we’ll never have to deal with people and relationships — is the dysfunctional pipe dream of our culture. A culture obsessed with speed and isolation and power and exploiting conditions and people to make money — all the kinds of things Jesus commands us not to do. We’re breaking the commands and letting these bad traits deform our relationships. Because these aren’t just connected, they are one.

We love and create and inspire one another because this life is relational. Faith is relational. Existence is relational. Following Jesus is relational. Knowing God is relational. Walking the Way of Love with the Paraclete is relational. Washing each other’s feet is relational. Cookouts and celebrations are relational. Walking out your front door and coming to church is relational. Being in the world is relational.

This is the path we are on. And we walk it together. We know the way because it is the road set before us, because we know the command is to love and heal and proclaim the Good News, to protect the vulnerable and feed the hungry. We know this and we know each other. And we learn it all by doing this work together. Letting the holy fire burn inside for love and justice and hope. For one another and for the better days to come.