Sixth Sunday of Easter

My favorite musical hands down is Camelot.  In the final scene King Arthur sings out a song filled with memories of what had been the most idyllic place on earth. Alone on stage, the broken, forgiving king begs us to remember: Ask every person if they've heard the story, and tell it strong and clear if they have not, that once there was a fleeting wisp of glory Called Camelot! Don't let it be forgot that once there was a spot for one brief, shining moment that was known as Camelot.

Keep the story going begs King Arthur. Pass it on to your children and your children's children; and in the very remembering, you will keep the dream alive. In the midst of the despair around you, recall this time, this special place. And, perhaps-who knows-perhaps this one brief, shining moment will come again.

In this reading from John we hear Jesus talking to his disciples at the Passover just before his arrest, trial, and crucifixation.  He is preparing them for when he is gone.  I am tempted to hear Jesus singing Arthur's song as he gathers with his disciples for the last time. Jesus spins out his last words to his closest friends. We can well imagine Jesus calling them to remember the wondrous wisp of glory they had shared, when light had come into the darkness of the world. With such a song the disciples could go on, sustained by the memory of this one great life, waiting and hoping Jesus would soon return.

The whole Gospel of John could be a Camelot song, for John wrote these words long after Jesus was gone. This gospel is written backwards, in the midst of a community for whom Jesus was only a memory. Most of those in John's community had never met Jesus. Most, if not all, the disciples were dead. The temple in Jerusalem had been destroyed-a sign for many that the end-time would soon come. But the end-time didn't come. Life went on and that was, in many ways, the hardest part of all. Jesus hadn't returned even when all the signs seemed right. This community of believers felt pushed to the very edge of despair, and despair could defeat them. The gospel writer knew the dangers of such despair. So it was that John pulled together many of the things Jesus said into this one section of the Gospel known as "The Farewell Discourses." It's a bit like The Last Lecture Series in some colleges, where professors are asked what they would say if they knew it was their last chance to speak. Here at the table, Jesus says the same things over and over in different ways, but the central message is love.

" If you love me you will keep my commandments. " A new commandment I give you, that you love one another as I have loved you. " Whoever does not love me does not keep my words. " I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another. "But how can we do that?" the disciples must have wondered. Knowing they had a hard time loving each even while Jesus was with them, how could believers love like that in John's community where memory was fading? Maybe we should just keep singing and dreaming about that time when Jesus was here. "Don't let it be forgot that once there was a spot for one brief shining moment. 

But Jesus did not sing that song. Jesus didn't call the disciples to hold up his life as memory but as an active living presence. "I will not leave you orphaned," Jesus said, "I am coming to you." What a strange thing to say on the night of betrayal and arrest. He should have said, "I am leaving you." Jesus didn't deny what was going to happen. "In a little while the world will no longer see me," Jesus said, "but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live."

Jesus was calling his disciples to live and love in ways that seemed impossible. They couldn't do it, not without the Spirit. The Spirit is the other theme repeated over and over around the table. Sometimes Jesus says the Advocate, like someone who stands beside you in a court of law. Sometimes he says Helper, sometimes Spirit of Truth. When Jesus said, "I am coming to you," he didn't mean he would return like an old friend from a long journey. Jesus would be with believers in a different way. Or perhaps we could say that God would be with them in a different way.  

Certainly we are not living in Camelot.  Yet despite the difficulties and stress and strains of this present time amazing things are happening all around us as individuals and groups are working to make a difference. Heavy on my thinking this weekend are all those who are graduating.  Those graduating from high school this year 2020 were born in the year of 911.  In our faith community Sabastian Gordon is graduating from High School and Andre Vassou is graduating from 8^th grade to 9^th grade.  Maybe a few others are graduating maybe we have some of our preschoolers now going on to kindergarten.  We have learned so much from the Pandemic some it of not so good, racism and economic injustice is very much alive and well, even thriving.  But one of the good things we have learned is how important teachers are in our communities.  Teachers make a big difference in the lives of our students. If parents are the building blocks of our young people teachers are the glue that holds the whole educational process together.  

This week I heard about a student named Keith who was homeless when he entered high school.  He had no friends, he was scared, and he hated school.  It was an art teacher at Keith’s high school that saw in him a passion and talent for art.  The teacher helped Keith to see and express his artistic talents and the rest of his education fell into place.  In the fall Keith will being entering college at the Art Academy of Cincinnati.  Then there was Virdie Montgomery, have you heard of Virdie? Virdie Montgomery 66 year old Principal of Wyle High School in Texas.  He decided to personally visit all 612 graduating seniors.  The trip took 12 days and 800 plus miles on his car.  He made a video diary of all his visits.  I’m sure that none of Virdie’s students will ever forget his visit.

Rosemary Radford Reuther is a church historian. She says there are two things the church must do. One is to pass on the tradition from one generation to another. We might say this is like King Arthur's song: "Ask ev'ry person if they've heard the story, and tell it loud and clear if they have not." Tell the story of Jesus to your children and your children's children. But that's not all, says Reuther. There is a second thing the church must do. Be open to the winds of the Spirit by which the tradition comes alive in each generation. That is different than Camelot, deeper than memory.

Years ago I read something rather odd: "The reason mountain climbers are tied together is to keep the sane ones from going home." Whoever said that was playing with us a bit, for we know mountain climbers are tied together to keep from getting lost or going over a cliff. But there's another piece of truth here. When things get tough up on the mountain, when fear sets in, many a climber is tempted to say, "This is crazy! I'm going home." The life of faith can be like that-doubts set in, despair overwhelms us, and we don’t know what the future holds.  Jesus knew his disciples would have days like that. So he told them we're tied together like branches on the vine-or like climbers tied to the rope-tied together by the Spirit, to trust in one who is always more than we can understand, to keep us moving ahead on the journey of faith, to encourage us when life as we know it is falling apart.  "I will not leave you orphaned," said Jesus. "I am coming to you."

This promise is far deeper than Camelot, and it wasn't only for Jesus' disciples, but also for you and for me. The Spirit ties us to Jesus. As we are climbing this mountain called Covid-19 may you never forget that Jesus is the vine and by the power of the Holy Spirit we the branches are connected to the vine.  May God who breathed life into lifeless clay breathe life and hope into you now and in all the days to come.

Amen