Sixth Sunday of Easter-Rev Melanie Lemburg
Easter 6B_2021
May 9, 2021
This week’s gospel is an immediate
continuation from last week’s gospel.
This portion of John’s gospel is known as Jesus farewell discourse,
where he is telling his disciples goodbye, that he won’t be with them much
longer, and he is offering them some serious pastoral care as they are sad and
confused about what he is telling them. “Abide in me,” Jesus tells them over
and over again, “and I will abide in you.”
Another translation of this is “make your home in me and I will make my
home in you.”
In talking about these passages, one of
my colleagues reflected on a time when she was serving as a priest to a church
that also had a day care. Her office was
right near the stairwell that led from the day care to outside, and every day,
she’d hear small children have complete and utter melt-downs on the stairway as
they were reunited with their parents after a long day and preparing to head
home. My friend remarked to the day care
director one day how horrible it must be for those parents to be greeted with their
kids’ meltdowns every day when they picked them up, and the day care director
looked at my friend like she was an idiot, and told her that when the kids were
with their parents they knew they were safe enough to have all their feelings. It’s not unlike what we do when we are all at
home, when home is a safe place where we can be vulnerable.
My
friend connected this to a poem by Rumi titled the Guesthouse:
The
Guest House
This
being human is a guest house.
Every
morning a new arrival.
A
joy, a depression, a meanness,
some
momentary awareness comes
As
an unexpected visitor.
Welcome
and entertain them all!
Even
if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who
violently sweep your house
empty
of its furniture,
still
treat each guest honorably.
He
may be clearing you out
for
some new delight.
The
dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet
them at the door laughing,
and
invite them in.
Be
grateful for whoever comes,
because
each has been sent
as
a guide from beyond.[i]
In our gospel reading for today, Jesus
reveals his hand, showing the purpose of this farewell discourse as well as
revealing the purpose of his ministry: “so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be
complete.”
And a little later in John’s gospel in chapter
16 verses 21-22, Jesus talks about this joy that he offers in an unusual
way: “When a woman is in labor, she has
pain, because her hour has come. But when her child is born, she no longer
remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into
the world. So you have pain now; but I
will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy
from you.”
As one commentary puts it:” Jesus’
mission is for the sake of joy, yes — but not just any joy. Think of it, he says,
like the joy of a new mother, strong and creative, exhausted and exultant, a
joy that is no stranger to anguish, and above all the joy of having brought new
life into the world. From this angle, we may put the poetry this way: every
Christian disciple is a mother or a midwife!”[ii]
And then there’s the reading from Acts
for today. This story marks the
beginning of the full inclusion of Gentiles in the group of those who follow
Jesus. It’s interesting to me that the
Holy Spirit shows up and anoints everyone even before all the Gentiles have
been baptized, and so Peter makes his case for their baptism based on the
highly compelling argument “Why not?” (He
actually says, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who
have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” which equates in my book to,
“Well, why not go ahead and baptize them?)
When joy shows up and surprises us, how often do we try to manage it or
maintain it rather than asking “well, why not?”
So what does this have to offer us in
terms of an understanding of our own life, our own faith, our own calling? If Jesus’s mission is “so that [his] joy may
be in you, and that your joy may be complete,” then how does that shape your
calling as his friend and follower, the one who makes your home in him and he
in you? How might the Holy Spirit be
calling you to experience unexpected joy, a joy that is like that of a new
mother: strong and creative, exhausted
and exultant, a joy that is no stranger to anguish, and above all the joy of
having brought new life into the world? How might God be calling you to serve
as mother or mid-wife to this kind of fierce, creative joy? And what might your suffering have to teach
you about joy?
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