Seventh Sunday in Easter
Year A, RCL
May 4, 2008
All Saints’, Bentonville
Gospel:
Jesus looked up to heaven and said, "Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.
"I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me is from you; for the words that you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me. I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world, but on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them. And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one. "
The chapter of John from which today’s gospel is taken, Chapter 17, marks the conclusion of a series of chapters describing the period of time in Jesus’ life when he withdrew from the world and passed most of his days in the company of his closest disciples. With the shadow of the cross looming in the no so distant future, Jesus is shown praying in what has become known as the high priestly prayer. Although this prayer is not as concise and or as well known as the Lord’s Prayer, it too offered his disciples instructions and an example of how we are to pray. It is a prayer of unity, of promise, and a request that God protect the followers whom Jesus would soon leave behind. The entire prayer, spoken by Jesus with his eyes looking up into the heavens, is an acknowledgement that his work on earth was nearly done and that he was, in essence, no longer of this world.
I’ve been a student of prayer for many years. I’ve read and studied and practiced forms and methods of prayer originating from ancient and modern sources, across the world’s religions. My tendency, however, has been to devote a great deal of time to learning about how to pray, getting caught up in the mechanics of mudras and mantras and the intricacies of chotkis and chants until my head is so filled with the multitude of possible avenues to God that I need a roadmap to find my way. While in my heart I know that all I need to do is simply be, and God will be there with me.
I’ve been fortunate to have a few quite remarkable teachers of prayer along the way. In talking about prayer sometime last year I described an evening spent Zen walking with my good friend and mentor Robert, his frail hands resting on my shoulders for support, as he followed me, and chanted the Trysagion – Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy Immortal One, Have mercy upon me. It was a memorable moment of prayer and the sense of God’s presence with us that evening was unmistakable.
But today, reading Jesus’ high priestly prayer, spoken just before his betrayal, arrest, and crucifixion, I’m reminded of how different a prayer can be when we are not attached to what is of the earth. The prayer I remember praying with Robert, a remarkable teacher and writer and singer, on the week before he died of a long illness, was the prayer of a man that was no longer of this world. .
Knowing he was near death, I had asked him to call me, at any time, day or night, if he needed to. So I wasn’t completely surprised when at 2:00 in the morning, my phone rang and it was Robert, calling to ask if I could come be with him. After I dressed and walked out the door, I looked up at the sky, and I spotted a meteor as it dropped from the direction of the constellation Perseus and onto the western horizon. I paused for a moment and I then I saw another streak of light and, in a moment, still another. And I remembered that it was the season for the meteors know as the Per-se-ids (pur’-see-idz).
Arriving at Robert’s I couldn’t wait for him to come outside to see the light show, but he was too weak to even answer the door. I walked inside and found him lying on the sofa. After a brief conversation I told him about the meteor shower. His eyes sparkled and he smiled as he said, “I have to see it.”
Though he had been a vigorous man, he was so thin now that it took little effort for me to lift him onto a wheelchair. I rolled him out the door and onto the front lawn where the parting trees permitted a clear view of the stars. Eventually, I could see that it was a strain for Robert to lift his head toward the sky. So kneeling behind him, I tilted the wheelchair back so that his head could rest on my chest, and he could hold his gaze upon the heavens. We watched an uninterrupted flow of streaks of burning light. The silence of the night was punctuated with little more than “oohs” and “ahhs”, our appreciative expression for the sacrifice of each star that fell.
Without words Robert prayed the prayer of a person who was no longer of this world. I was in the presence of one who already had the taste of the Divine in his mouth. At that moment I knew not whether we stood on earth or in heaven. Robert’s closeness to death, his nearness to true life, showed how the distinction between heaven and earth can be blurred, and we can walk effortlessly across the threshold from one realm to next.
This chapter in the gospel of John, and John’s entire gospel in fact, is concerned with what theologians call Christology. That is, the exploration of the nature of Christ and, in particular, the question of Jesus’ divinity versus Jesus’ humanity. The passage we read today is a clear example of high Christology, emphasizing Jesus divine nature.
Jesus prays, “Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.” “…everything you have given me is from you.” “…know in truth that I came from you.” and “All mine are yours, and yours are mine.” The oneness that exists between the Jesus and the Father is repeatedly emphasized in this passage. The glorification that is God’s is fully shared with the Christ.
And as for his followers, who remain behind in the world, Jesus prays for their protection, “so that they may be one, as we are one." And so we have it, the divine nature that Jesus shares with God, is available to us as well.
The essence of the Christian life is learning to recognize that God exists within us as surely as God existed in the Christ. Jesus’ prayer, this prayer of the high priesthood, shows us how we can live in this world, but not be of the world. To engage the world fully, do the work we are called to do, and allow the divine spark to flicker, and come alive.
On that night with my friend Robert, watching the heavens light up, it was revealed how, in the midst of a silent prayer, the divinity that lies within us all can explode to the surface in a flash of brilliance. But more often, enlightenment can be simply “shining a light on what is.”
As Jesus looked up into heaven, knowing that his hour had come, his prayer glowed with the brilliance of a falling star, and shined a light on the promise that we will be one.