“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.
John 14:1-14
And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.” Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.
Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.
My sermon from 5th Sunday of Easter (May 13, 2023) on John 14:1-14.
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So I’ve heard that when you’re trying to sell your home, make sure to preheat the oven a few minutes before the open house kicks off and then put some store-bought cookie dough inside. The hope is that once the air is filled with all that sugary goodness, potential buyers will think they’re home. This marketing gimmick has been around for so long that it even shows up in all kinds of unexpected places. About ten days ago, I dropped off my oldest kid at school and then drove to Philadelphia. I pulled into a large parking lot surrounding a big box-like building with the words “life celebration” in giant white letters along each side. When I got out of my car, I ran into my brother and sister-in-law who helped remove all the stray white cat hairs that were all over my suit. We, together, then walked into the building and were directed by two highly enthusiastic people to head towards our right. As I walked, I could hear the sounds of many different voices chatting ahead of me. Our plan was to find the large community space filled with our family members but we first ran into a large self-serve coffee bar in front of it. Along one wall were coffee pots filled to the brim with caffeinated goodness while on the island in the middle of the room was a tower of freshly baked cookies. The smell of baked chocolate chips, butter, and m&ms was simply everywhere as I turned the corner to give my great aunt a big hug as we commiserated over the death of my great uncle. Those two were, for all intents and purposes, my grandparents since my grandfather passed away when I was in high school. Every summer, for a week or two, I would stay at their home during our visits to the town my mother grew up in. Once I got older and started a family of my own, my kids got to spend hours doing what I had done fifteen years before: pretending to play pool while listening to a jukebox filled with 45s of Frank Sinatra in my great uncle’s finished basement. In my inner suit pocket, I had a print out of the sermon I planned to share since my great aunt asked if I would like to participate in the service. After we chatted, a Roman Catholic priest invited everyone to take a seat. And as we prepared to say goodbye to my great uncle, the smell of cookies – and the thoughts of home – filled the air.
Now I never did get the chance to deliver that sermon but the reading I had picked was the first six verses we just heard from the gospel according to John. They are the words we often turn to when we are wrapped up in grief since the disciples, 2000 years ago, were wrapped up in their own kind of grief too. For three years, the disciples had been with Jesus as he traveled through Israel, Palestine, Syria, and beyond. Jesus was always on the move which meant every person in his ragtag group of friends had to leave the places they grew up in. They left home to create a new home rooted in the One who was always there. Jesus, right before today’s reading, brought the disciples, once again, into the city of Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover. They gathered in someone else’s home to do what we often do when we’re home: eat, talk, and be merry. We don’t know everything shared around the table that evening but I like to imagine these friends were exactly that. They talked about what they had seen and heard; named their fears and worries; admitted what gave them hope; and rolled their eyes at every single one of Peter’s lame jokes. They were at home with their Jesus during one of the holiest moments of the year. Yet Jesus, unlike them, knew just how hard things were about to become. Judas left to tell the police where they were going to be and it was now time for Jesus to help his friends get through what came next.
So Jesus, in the middle of their meal and without saying a word, stood up, wrapped a towel around his waist and washed every one of the disciples’ feet. He didn’t let his power or his privilege get in the way of showing everyone what love is supposed to look like. Now before the shock of that moment wore off, Jesus then launched into a long conversation that shocked the disciples even more. He seemed to be hinting at a kind of separation that, at first glance, felt as if it would leave all his friends behind. Thomas, Philip, and the rest of the disciples listened to the center-of-their-life-together say he would no longer be with them like he had always been. A deep grief, worry, and anxiety seeped into their hearts as they asked for an assurance that their life with Jesus had been wasted. They were afraid and so Jesus was very careful in each one of his responses. The words he used were not meant to be used as some kind of religious test which determined who, and who isn’t, part of God’s family. Jesus didn’t scold them, yell at them, or act as if they weren’t enough. He, instead, told them that he knew them – and because of that, they would always have a home with him. No matter what came next, Jesus had already created a pace where they belonged. They could, safely and freely, admit their joys and fears; their doubts and questions; and be honest about all those times when it felt as if God didn’t even know they existed. They could simply be themselves because, through baptism and faith, they were already home.
Our home with Jesus isn’t something we create; rather, it’s a gift we are given by the One who makes us his own. Much of this kind of home making is seen in the life Jesus chose to live, full of moments when even the Son of God relied on others to take him into their homes. Jesus needed his adopted father, mother, siblings, and friends to show how he belonged too. This home-building is something Jesus takes seriously since he comes to each of us in the prayers, music, words, and holy communion that shape our worship. And he encourages each of us to be in this kind of home-building too. My great uncle, in his own way, tried to live this out by showing how I, no matter where I was, had a place in his home too. In his finished basement, the walls are covered with the posters and headshots of all the pop culture icons, movie stars, and athletes that inspired him. Pictures of the 1980 Philadelphia Phillies, Audrey Hepbun, Humphrey Bogart, and various Eagle gear fill the space. Yet mixed in among the celebrities were also photos of every family member who had ever played a sport or even acted. Every one of his grandchild, nephews, or nieces – weather related to him biologically or who he informally adopted when he married my great aunt while in his early 50s – anyone who played soccer in kindergarten, field hockey in college, or were on the fourth line of his JV high school lacrosse team – their photo was hung right next to the Frank Sinatras of the world. It was his way of showing how we, no matter where we were or how God brought us together, always had a home. And Jesus has, through his life, death, resurrection, and ascension, has declared the very same to you. You are already home and we, in Christ, through Christ, and with Christ, get to show others what the love of God can do since God has made a home in our world.
Amen.