A Helping Spirit 5-25-25
A Helping Spirit
Ps 67; John 14:23-29
Ps 67
May God be gracious to us and bless us and make his face to shine upon us, Selah that your way may be known upon earth, your saving power among all nations. Let the peoples praise you, O God; let all the peoples praise you. Let the nations be glad and sing for joy, for you judge the peoples with equity and guide the nations upon earth. Selah Let the peoples praise you, O God; let all the peoples praise you. The earth has yielded its increase; God, our God, has blessed us. May God continue to bless us; let all the ends of the earth revere him.
John 14:23-29
Jesus answered him, “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.” I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.’ If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.
Prayer – Oh God, why must we struggle every day and every hour to secure that inner peace and deep tranquility which is the very essence of what you desire for all of your beloved children? Men and women of every generation have thundered – why? Where are you? – so many things disturb and frighten us. We beg for deliverance and humbly ask that you give us that peace you promised to all. Your promise your helping Spirit to offer us quietness, tranquility and peace. In these current times, may your Spirit help us rest in in your peaceful presence until the storms of life subside and the vision of your grace and peace truly rests deep in our souls – amen.
One of the best newspaper cartoons of all time is Calvin and Hobbes. One day, Calvin and Hobbes come marching into the living room early one morning. His mother is seated there in her favorite chair. She is sipping her morning coffee. She looks up at young Calvin. She is amazed and amused at how he is dressed. Calvin’s head is encased in a large space helmet; a cape is draped around his neck, across his shoulders, down his back and is dragging on the floor. One hand is holding a flashlight and the other a baseball bat.
“What’s up today?” asks his mom. “Nothing, so far,” he answers. “So far?” she questions. “Well you never know,” Calvin says, “Something could happen today.” Then Calvin marches off, “And if anything does, by golly, I’m going to be ready for it.” Calvin’s mom looks out at the reading audience and she says, “I need a suit like that!”
That’s the way many of us feel as we see the news and deal with life. Sometimes this world seems quite violent and people seem to be at each other’s throats. A suit like that might help, so we can say with Calvin, “Whatever may come my way, I’m going to be ready for it. Bring it on!”
Well, I don’t have a suit like Calvin’s and my guess is that you don’t either – however it would be quite the fashion statement. Our gospel passage from John this morning comes from the night before Jesus is tried, beaten and crucified by the Roman authorities at the hand of the religious authorities. He has been talking with his disciples about the events to come, that he is going to return to his heavenly home, and I’m pretty certain his disciples were worried, just like Calvin, that ‘something could happen today.’ Jesus’ words of sending an Advocate, a helping spirit may in face bring his peace, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” I can imagine the disciples were sitting there going, “Really Jesus, what kind of crack are you smoking. The authorities are going to come after us if you disappear. Peace, right???”
Or, is that our 21st century reaction. Do not let our hearts be troubled? Are you kidding? Look around. Economic concerns, disparities between the wealthy and the poor are greater than ever. People fired and out of work. A seemingly endless war in the Middle East. Churches in conflict about everything just about everywhere you look. Political candidates bickering between one another and over issues such as immigration, health care, financial reforms, and whether someone is male or female. Earthquakes. Mass shootings every other week. A very open attack on our Constitution, due process and democracy. And yet, we’re not supposed to be troubled? For crying out loud, what’s not in trouble?! And where is this helping spirit?
This is what makes Jesus’ promise of peace so difficult to take. Peace is just what it feels like we’re missing right now. Peace, after all, would mean the cessation of all this conflict, the end of all this turmoil, the conclusion of all our waiting and wanting and worrying – right?
I wonder, I mean, I’ve usually thought of peace as the absence of something negative – the absence of war, or strife, or fear, or anger. And, indeed, the first definition in the dictionary corroborates this view – “peace – freedom from disturbance.” But it occurs to me on reading and re-reading Jesus’ words to the disciples that maybe we are making some assumptions about peace. Maybe peace isn’t the absence of something, but instead, maybe peace is its own presence. Maybe peace is something all on its own. Maybe it creates something positive, makes something wonderful possible, not just curtails something negative. Maybe this is what Jesus means by saying, “MY peace I give to you. I do not give it as the world gives.”
If that’s so – if I’m willing, that is, to question the way I usually think about peace – then maybe I should also call into question my sense of faith more generally. I think I tend to operate with a sense that our human problem is that we have within us a need, an awareness of our lack, a restlessness, a hole – something that makes us question our worth, our value, our belovedness – perhaps peace of heart and soul. You know, Augustine’s “My heart is restless, O God, until it rests in thee.” Actually, a lot of the time I think that is pretty accurate. But I suspect that along with that picture of our human condition comes a correlate picture of how we expect God to respond – God fill that hole, meet that need, restore that which the world says we lack. It is almost as if we believe that once we come to faith, or believe in God or Jesus or Allah or the Mystery or the Big Bang, everything is suddenly hunky-dory, that we’re no longer aware of our need or lack or hurt or brokenness. Or, at least if I’m honest with myself, that’s not how I actually experience the life of faith.
Do you know what I mean? Faith, when I think about it, doesn’t so much take away all the difficult things in life as makes them bearable. It’s actually a little more than that. Faith doesn’t take away or remove the difficult things in life; it just keeps them from dominating, from having mastery, from defining who we are and the possibilities around us. It’s like these things – our needs, our wants, our broken places – they are still accurate descriptions of our circumstances, but they are not who we are.
There were two patients that I spent a good deal of time with who remind me of finding peace in difficult times. One is a former physician who had been diagnosed with metastatic liver cancer. He lived his life operating on folks, bringing health, life even, to those who needed surgery for one ill or another. He certainly lost a few over the years but much of his life was about cutting out tumors, correcting blockages, restoring function in broken places. He was a person of faith and as we talked during that time, we talked about what it meant to be a person of faith facing a fast approaching death. I reminded him that what is the matter really doesn’t matter now, what matters is what matters to him. He talked about his family, about being ready, about gratitude. He never once said, ‘why me?’ or give me a sense that he felt abandoned by God. As he went to the hospice house one afternoon, I recognized that he was at peace.
The second patient I spent a good deal of time with was actually an employee of the hospital. She too was diagnosed with cancer – pancreatic with mets to her liver – a devastating diagnosis and quite painful. She described herself as a positive person and that seemed to be reflected in her words. She said the doctor was offering her a series of treatments and that she was going to ‘go after it’ because she had two granddaughters she wants to see grow up. Realistically she acknowledged that it was a bad diagnosis but she was more than her cancer diagnosis. I walked away from her recognizing the same spirit of peace in her that I saw in the physician who went to hospice. Deep inside of both was a peace that was perhaps unexplainable but was simply a gift.
I suspect that there are probably two views of the religious life – both acknowledge that this world we share is full of tumults and challenges, of sometimes seismic ups and downs. One view of the life of faith assumes that when you come to faith, things settle down, stop shaking, and suddenly makes sense. The other view of faith, however, doesn’t promise an end to the tremors but gifts us with the possibility of keeping our footing amid them.
I think that is what Jesus is talking about. After all, the Spirit he promises comes as an Advocate – the one who takes to our defense when we’re accused – and the Comforter – the one who will not leave our side during trouble. Understood that way, there is nothing about Jesus’ words that would suggest that either that he is promising us an end to our problems or that he’s inviting us to ignore them. Rather, he promises peace – not merely the cessation of disturbance, but instead a confident expectation and hope perhaps in spite of the disturbance. That kind of peace comes as a gift when it seems that the alligators are about to drag us under.
I’ve heard the next quotation ascribed to Francis of Assisi but legend has it that it was Martin Luther who replied to this question, “What would you do if you thought the world was going to end tomorrow?” Luther replied, “I would plant an apple tree.” That’s not optimism, but hope; not simply a lack of fear, but courage; not only the absence of disturbance, but the gift of peace – the kind of peace Jesus was offering to his disciples, and maybe even to us today. It is a peace that the world cannot give.
Peace is eirene in Greek, which translates the Hebrew shalom. Shalom is traditionally translated as peace but has much more depth than simply the absence of conflict. Shalom reflects the well-being of people and community and is characterized by wholeness, healing, abundance, concord, reconciliation, social harmony, and spiritual as well as physical health.
People in the first century were looking for peace as an absence of the Roman authorities, or as in our modern day, peace as a sense of safety and security in a world filled with terror; wholeness as food and shelter and health care and hope; healing of broken relationships and broken dreams; an abundance of goodness for all people and not just the well-to-do; reconciliation and harmony between people across nationalities, ethnicities, faiths. That is the peace that Jesus offered as a gift to his friends in the first century and the gift he offers to us today. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could have learned from our first century brothers and sisters and simply accept this gift of both helping spirit and peace. Maybe one day – I hope – we all can accept these gifts of Spirit and peace no matter the circumstances – and I can imagine God hopes so too – amen.