Tags
Andrew, decision, follow me, Jesus, John, Matthew, questions, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, willingness
While not the gospel reading in today’s lectionary, there is a short passage in the Gospel of John (1:38-39) that I find heartwarming and particularly engaging. It imagines a more personal invitation to those who became the first disciples of Jesus than what we read in Matthew’s account when we picture Jesus walking along by the Sea of Galilee, calling to two sets of brothers with the command, “Follow me.” (4:18-22)
The set-up of the story is the same. Jesus is walking by the fishermen and something in them knows to follow him. As they do, Jesus turns around and asks, “What are you looking for?” They counter with the question, “Rabbi, where are you staying?” to which he responds, “Come and you will see.” And so they do. It was Andrew, brother of John, who is credited with that interchange and today the Church celebrates his willingness.
Had Andrew and “and another disciple” not been alert when Jesus walked by, they might have missed the opportunity of a lifetime, or perhaps it was just a little “test” of their fitness for the job. Some of us are probably more comfortable with Matthew’s remembrance of that moment. It’s sometimes easier to be told what to do rather than asking questions that might seem a bit invasive. The last line of the passage from John says, “So they went and saw where he was staying, and they stayed with him that day.” Their decision. A much more mature encounter, wouldn’t you say?
Speaking of antonyms (as I was doing yesterday), I have no choice but to choose love as the theme for today. Psalm 119 announces it when it declares: Blessed are they whose way is blameless, who walk in the law of the Lord!” (vs.1-2), waking up those who have slept through the first reading from the second letter of John. In a clarion call that John sees as only a reminder of what God’s law proclaims, he says: “I ask you, not as if I were writing a new commandment but the one we have had from the beginning: let us love one another.” 
At the retreat center where I am privileged to live, we are in the midst of our “high season.” Every weekend we welcome people of diverse beliefs and religious traditions who come seeking to deepen the spiritual content of their lives. Thus, the simple but appropriate name of this place: The Spiritual Center. It is not only those who come as participants to the programs we offer who are changed in some way or newly committed to spiritual practice. The presenters and we ourselves know the value of what is transacted here, most often in the brief space of a weekend.
For some time now, the Sisters of St. Joseph, Albany Province have had as a province goal to see food as a human right and to work toward the elimination of hunger in our country and elsewhere in every way possible. Although it seems an insurmountable achievement, we work toward it as we can. Some of us write letters to our government representatives or call when legislation like the Farm Bill comes up for a vote. Some work in a soup kitchen or food pantry and at most of our province gatherings we are asked to bring a non-perishable food item in support of those volunteers and our goal. Some would call us foolish for thinking we could really achieve much progress toward realization of such a societal change as the number of children and adults who go hungry each night is astronomical (and shameful in a country such as ours). Yet we “soldier on” hoping that our voices will be heard and our attempts will change the consciousness of others in our midst.
Today we have an appearance of those two outspoken disciples, James and John, the sons of Zebedee. We first meet them in the gospel of Matthew as they are with their father preparing their nets for fishing. As with all the others who left what they were doing to follow Jesus, one wonders about the reaction in their family. We never meet the father again but their mother shows up in the gospel of Matthew asking for privilege for her sons (MT 20) and today we have Mark’s rendition of that event (MK 10:32-45) where the brothers speak for themselves. It’s a rather shocking passage but maybe understandable if you consider the haughty behavior of their mother recorded elsewhere. Asking Jesus that they be “seated one at your right and one at your left in your glory” is not at all in keeping with the humility expected of the closest followers of Jesus. Even worse is the fact that Mark pairs that conversation with Jesus telling the Twelve what was going to happen to him in Jerusalem – his suffering, death and resurrection.
When I think of the courage necessary to the first Christians as they shared their beliefs in Jesus and found resistance that led to beatings and vilification, I’m honored to have an opportunity to do the same with radically different outcomes. I am certainly not comparing myself to St. Paul and his gift of preaching! The only similarity is that I will leave in a few hours for a destination in Pennsylvania, close to 225 miles away. Unlike in Paul’s day, the trip will take me about four hours and the travel conditions will simply necessitate paying attention while I drive.
During this Easter season there are so many great scriptural stories of what it was like in the first century of the Christian era. All the wonderful encounters that the disciples had with people who caught the significance and truth of what they were sharing about God’s love in Christ sometimes makes me desire that kind of direct revelation in our day. This morning, however, as I read the gospel (JN 15:9-17), I became aware again of the gift that is still – and always – available to us as a vivid experience of God’s love. Let me explain.
Today’s gospel picks up yesterday’s conversation (JN 14), known as the “farewell discourse.” Moving on from the extraordinary verse where Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth and the life,” Jesus is speaking now about his unity with God. “If you know me, then you will know my Father,” he says. “From now on you do know him and have seen him.” It is an enthusiastic Philip, I think, who jumps in saying, “Master, show us the Father and that will be enough for us!”
This morning’s gospel (JN 14:1-6) has Jesus giving a sort of pep talk to his disciples. What we know that they didn’t is that Jesus will be leaving soon and he’s trying to prepare them to continue on without his physical presence. “Do not let your hearts be troubled,” he says. “In my father’s house there are many rooms.” I often wonder if they had, by that time, caught on to his manner of speaking in metaphor. Even now we have trouble understanding and accepting that diversity does not necessarily mean division in religious belief and practice.
There’s a passage in the “Good Shepherd” gospel from today’s lectionary (JN 10: 12-13) that has me thinking about the power of intention. It says the following: “A hired man, who is not a shepherd and whose sheep are not his own, sees a wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away and the wolf catches and scatters them. This is because he works for pay and has no concern for the sheep.”