Christopher Thomas
Sermon for Seventh Sunday of Easter, Year A – 5/24/20
Acts 1:6-14
Psalm 68:1-10, 33-36
1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11
John 17:1-11
For anyone who knows me well, I’m just not a person who is big on “PDA’s,” Public Displays of Affection. You know what I’m talking about. Intimacy of any sort played out in a public setting. Now, who knows why that is. We could analyze my upbringing, maybe I didn’t see or experience many examples of PDA’s growing up, or maybe it’s all my time being inculcated to be a “Proper Southern Gentleman” who keeps his feelings and emotions private, to himself. Who knows? I’m sure I can and probably will spend lots of money trying to figure this out!
And I didn’t grow up as a big “hugger” either. If you ever saw the movie “Dirty Dancing,” I’m sure you remember that iconic scene where Patrick Swayze is teaching Jennifer Grey how to dance, and he’s clear to point out, after she’s made a mess of things, “This is your dance space, and this is mine.” That’s pretty much how I’ve lived my life. It fits in pretty well with the image of being a “Proper Southern Gentleman.” No, or at the very least, controlled touching. Keep those emotions and feelings in check. It’s what well-heeled people do.
And so, when I walk in on, or walk by, or see some intimacy in play, whatever that may be, it makes me uncomfortable, like I’ve been taken, almost unwillingly, into someone else’s private space. Should I turn away, or continue to look? What would that “Proper Southern Gentleman” do, in that moment, of coming into another’s intimate moment?
This could be one reason why I love the classical and fine arts, because in the arts, I’m allowed glimpses into these intimate moments of others, through literature, painting, song, or soliloquy, that invite me into a space that seems at once taboo, that I want to run from, and yet, I can press into, intimacy, at a safe distance, almost as a voyeur.
I guess that’s why it’s so strangely shocking, and revealing, to me, that Jesus has this PDA moment, this very public, and yet so intimately private, display of affection, with God, for God, and for God’s people, right here, right now, in front of the disciples. They are coming to the end of Jesus’ final meal with them, and Jesus turns toward God and begins to pray. It’s not so odd that he’s doing it in front of us. We get to eavesdrop, to be voyeurs of his prayer life in other places across the gospel. But for the disciples to witness this intimacy between Father and Son, in that moment, must be awkward. I feel awkward for them, and I am not there!
This isn’t a grand prayer to open a meal or end a business meeting. You know the ones I’m talking about, the ones we hate to get put on the spot with because we feel they necessitate perfect Elizabethan prose. This is Jesus turning to his Father, and praying on behalf of those he is in front of, passionately, an intimate revelation of Jesus’ relationship with God. If I’m a disciple, I want to turn away, to not look, because I feel like I’ve been invited into someone’s boudoir prayer closet, and I don’t belong there, and yet, I cannot look away. Jesus wants me to see this, to see this PDA, to see how this intimacy goes. It’s important.
These people that you have entrusted to me, God, I now, in my final hour, entrust back to You.”
What a visual Jesus has allowed them, and us, to witness. You can almost see Jesus placing the burdens that he has been carrying, the burdens of his followers, their future existence, the hopes and dreams of a new world, onto an altar, for God to assume. “I have done all that I can do during my earthly existence, all that I have been asked, all that Logos means, and now, I release those I love to your grace, your mercy, and your care.” What a moment of exhale that must be for Jesus! And what an intimate moment for them and us to witness.
“Holy God, protect them in Your name that You have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.”
Unity. Strength in togetherness.
There is a unity of spirit between God and Jesus in that intimate moment, that deeply personal moment, that Jesus wants his disciples to overhear, to witness. “I am one with God, and you are one as well.” This unity must go on; it is vitally important. As Christians, we are part of a whole. It is what will bind and band the community together.
And Jesus knows the community is going to need strength in the face of all the many adversaries, “the devils,” that will be prowling around, looking for someone or something to devour, something to divide, and conquer. That division comes in so many different forms, things that separate us from each other, and from God. Isn’t that, after all, the very definition of sin, that which separates us from God?
So, I’m spending a lot (A LOT) of my personal prayer time praying over and about the COVID-19 crisis, this pandemic that has universally affected the globe’s population, all of God’s kin-dom. Other than Antarctica, there is no continent that is untouched. If you are part of the human family, this is our common bond, this crisis in which we find ourselves.
I have spent a lot of time praying for those who suffer with the disease of Corona, and for the family members and loved ones of those who suffer; for the front-line workers who care for all those who are suffering, the nurses and the doctors, and all those who make healthcare possible; for all those who keep the rest of us safe during this pandemic, for fire and police officers, sanitation workers, grocery store workers, and all those who keep supply chains operating; and I pray for the protection of those who are especially vulnerable, the elderly and those who are compromised; and most especially for the protection of all those that I love and hold most dear, those who support me in ways that I cannot imagine my own existence without, my parents, my friends, and loved-ones. It’s a pretty complicated process, when I stop and think about it.
COVID-19 has such an interesting and insidious way of dividing we the body of Christ, ways that I had not before considered. In all of my praying, I did not realize that my prayers were laden with my control of how those things should come about, should be done. I have my own ritualized way of protecting myself (in my mind) against COVID-19, being very obsessive about how I and things come and go from my personal biosphere, being careful to mask and distance and wash and on and on and on.
But not everyone (surprise) sees the world as I see it, doggone it. And so, my prayer for others becomes divisive when I expect that they are going to respond to COVID-19 the way that I respond to COVID-19. And that simply is unrealistic, and divisive, to me, and to others, and to God. Wanting others to see and do things the way that I see and do things is not a prayer that is healthy and/or helpful. It is downright unrealistic.
I received this quite-wise advice from my friend and mentor Fr. Waller, who must have had Jesus’ intimate prayer from today’s gospel in mind when he said:
Pray for God’s ever-abiding presence to be made known. And then leave it all (the anxiety, the control, whatever) on the altar for God to deal with. Don’t spend time trying to figure it all out, work it all out, spin through all the options on how it can go, control all the outcomes.
Take a breath, and let it go.
Ultimately, I am not God, and my prayer cannot be that I be God. Jesus in this most intimate moment with his disciples, allows them and us a view to who God is, and how the world order has worked, is working, and will continue to work, because of, in spite of, around and through COVID-19, or any of the other myriad of things that threaten to divide and conquer God’s people.
We don’t have to ask for God’s presence. We do have to ask for the self-awareness and presence-of-mind to be aware of God’s presence.
God is always, always with us, and that, my sisters and brothers, is what binds us together, always!
Amen.
