God of the living word, give us the faith to receive your message, the wisdom to know what it means, and the courage to put it into practice. Amen.
I Am the
Way
The
Reverend David R. Williams
Christ our
great high priest, you understand our weakness; you pray for us
while we are sinners. Help us, through you, to find a new and
living way to God.
Amen
“I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me,” Jesus says. We have heard this passage many times.
From one point of view, the poetic words comfort as balm to our
souls, especially as we hurt from personal loss or tragedy in
community.
“I am the way, the truth and the life.”
As well, the clarity of Jesus’ message may be heard as exclusive
or even forbidding.
“No one comes to the Father except through me.” Who gets left
out? The uncertain
follower of Jesus? Someone who has an unwavering commitment to
another faith?
Someone who does not live up to—what standard?
This passage from the Gospel of John is frequently used as
reassurance at Christian funerals and memorial services.
The consolation of Jesus of his disciples affirms their
relationship to Jesus as Lord. “I am the way, the truth and the
life” offers loving arms and hope to us as we grieve loss of a
mother, father, sibling or friend.
Then the last sentence implies a greater truth and reality,
suggesting that our loved one is in a good, safe place, at home
with God--or maybe not, if we are to believe truly and
absolutely that “no one comes to the Father except through me.”
We consider the fine points of Jesus’ words.
Maybe our deceased loved one just did not get to enough
church services, or maybe we know of some funny business
closeted in our loved one’s past. Hmmmm…maybe he did not fulfill
his pledge, or never gave enough of herself to charitable
causes.
What if the deceased has been practicing Buddhism or has been
reading the Koran or has joined a Jewish temple?
“No one comes to the Father except through me.”
We human beings are so good at blame, guilt and pointed-finger
threat of God’s judgment. We think we are pretty good at
interpretation of scripture, the Book of Good News of God’s
presence among God’s people.
But we are still restless, left with the nagging question of
Christian grace. What are the boundaries of God’s acceptance? Is
Christianity exclusive and restrictive – “No one comes to the
Father…” or inclusive and open-ended, “God so loved the world…?”
“Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus says, “Believe in
God, believe also in me.
In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.
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. And you
know the way to the place where I am going.”
Thank goodness for the humanity of Thomas and Phillip.
There they are, back in the first century, as Jesus’
poetic words confuse and disturb his followers. The voice of
Thomas and Phillip become our voice.
Thomas responds, “We do not know where you are going.
How can we know the way?”
We are not sure of our future and we are just trying to
get a grasp, Lord.
Here in Holy Comforter’s pews—this fifth Sunday of Easter—we
feel the Resurrection theme of the Easter season throughout the
worship service. We
carry in our hearts the image of the two grieving women who
visit the tomb of the beloved Jesus and find the tomb empty.
We feel the blessing of the resurrected Jesus in
reappearance to his disciples, friends and family.
What difference does this resurrected Jesus offer to my life and
to the whole of God’s creation?
“I am the way, the truth, and the life,” Jesus says.
He speaks to us through Thomas and the disciples, through
the disciples of the disciples, throughout the ages. The words,
no less wondrous, reach our ears.
“I am not sure about tomorrow, Lord, in fact, I am a bit nervous
about the future – Lord.”
We visualize “my Father’s house” as a heavenly rest, a place of
God and angels and the throngs who have passed on before us.
Jesus’ preaching on earth, however, is not only focused on what
happens to our mortal souls after we die.
Jesus’ preaching focuses, too, on how we may choose to
live in earthly creation. Jesus and all people of God grapple
with mundane day-to-day issues, walking the way that is not
always clear and straight.
As the two Marys, first witnesses of the Resurrected Jesus, move
forward in new life, so the disciples have a new vision of the
future. Thrust into new “dwelling places,” the followers are
forever changed with a new understanding of their Lord and their
God.
The Father’s house is surely a dwelling place here on earth.
“I am the way, the truth and the life.”
Phillip speaks, “Come on, Jesus, just give us a glimpse of the
Father.”
“Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me not only
sees the Father, but will also do the works that I do.”
Here’s the formula, folks.
We are given life through the Creator – a life of
blessings and promise and tough choices and hardship.
How on earth might we find a clear understanding of this
earthly journey and a way to new dwelling
in God?
We find in our own nature, with God’s grace, how to give
back to the Creator what has been given generously to us.
How do we find the resources, especially when we feel
mixed up, used up and depleted? Listen. Jesus teaches us. Jesus
maps the path. Listen.
“I am the way, the truth and the Life.”
Love God. Love your neighbor. The two commandments of God
and the light of the Easter Jesus, the manifestation of God’s
giving and forgiving love on earth have opened the door to all
of us as Easter people.
“No one comes to the Father except through me.”
A story is told about the funeral over 100 years ago of the late
Emperor of Austria, Franz Josef. Franz Joseph, a Hapsburg
emperor, was to be buried in one of the vaults at the Capuchin
Monastery in
As the grand funeral procession for the emperor makes its way
from the palace to the monastery the main official for the
funeral knocks at the closed gate.
From within, the monastery abbot asks, “Who are you who knocks?”
“This is the body of Franz Josef, Emperor of Austria, King of
Hungary,” declares the official.
“I don’t know you,” responds the abbot. “Who are you?”
Again, the official exclaims, “This is Franz Josef, Emperor of
Austria, King of Hungary, of
“We still don’t know you,” the Abbot replies.
“Who are you?”
The palace official looks puzzled, but in a moment he kneels
down, saying, “This is Franz Josef, a poor sinner, humbly
begging for God’s mercy.”
The resonant voice of the monastery abbot booms: “Thou mayest
enter,” and the gates are flung wide open.
“I am the way, the truth, and the life,” Jesus, the Easter
Christ says, “No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Amen.
