There are times when I wish the life of faith were a whole lot simpler. There’s a certain satisfaction in viewing the Bible as an answer book, a set of propositions that will fit any situation. All it takes is an index that will connect each problem to the appropriate verse, and voilá! the problem is solved. The fact that such Bibles exist makes me realize what I’m up against in insisting on more depth and complexity in Scripture.
In spite of my wish for something simpler, I can’t go there. Maybe that’s because I like the Gospel of John so much. It’s hard to extract simple propositions from John unless they’re so basic as to be almost useless (“God is love,” for instance.) No wonder most people prefer Matthew, Mark, and Luke! John is much less direct and more open to interpretation. For instance, the Roman Catholic Church emphasizes the last verse of Sunday’s passage (“that they may be one, as we are one”) to promote the unity of all Christians – a worthwhile goal, until you realize that they mean everyone needs to return to the Roman Catholic Church.
That desire for unity seems to reside close to the desire for uniformity, which itself emphasizes authority, of pope or pastor. That’s one reason I shy away from magisterial interpretations of the Bible, where Father knows best and the laity are supposed to believe whatever they’re told. The self-help Bibles may seem to be at the other extreme, but they’re not; someone created that index which purports to answer every need. Either way, we’re told to obey the authority of someone else.
So where does John’s Gospel fit in? I am often mystified myself about what he’s saying, and reading him in Greek doesn’t help much. But there are a few things that do seem clear. For one, he continually emphasizes the eternal relation of the Son to the Father. Jesus came from God and would return to him in glory: “So now, Father, glorify me…with the glory I had in your presence before the world existed.”
It is into this eternal relationship that we are invited to enter by being disciples of Jesus Christ. (And yes, it is an eternal relationship of Love.) That is what true unity is about, the unity of God. Just as one God exists as three persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, so also we are created as persons in order to exist in relationship with one God and one another.
A simple enough idea, perhaps. It’s the living of it that is so difficult. I’m blessed to be in a church community whose members get along pretty well, but I don’t have illusions that we are all unified. (All I have to do is propose changing the carpet!) The local Lutherans and Episcopalians celebrate their common mission through joint Ascension and Epiphany services, but the area council of churches has such a conservative focus that I’m uncomfortable at their meetings. The divisions of Christianity are a great scandal and an impediment to mission.
So a simple life of faith is illusory. Life itself is not that simple; why should faith be? Yet I can still long for unity in Christ, to be one, as God is one. That unity will not come until God’s will is done on earth as in heaven. In the meantime we can work toward unity, the coming of God’s kingdom upon earth.
[Easter 7, the Sunday after the Ascension. John 17:1-11.]
Friday, June 3, 2011
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2 comments:
St. John seems so simple on a first reading. I remember that, back when I was twelve and newly baptized; I had a little Gospel of John in tract form, and we worked through it as a sort of post-baptismal instruction.
But the more one reads it, the more the simple little statements like "God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son" or "I am the vine; you are the branches" or (in this passage) "That they may be one, as we are one" open up into vast cathedrals of light and grace, worlds that a lifetime of thought can only begin to explore.
I have thought much this week about how glad I am that I am not preaching on John 17; it seems to me that it would be difficult.
But playing music about it? That is easier, and perhaps more effective in this case. I am doing three of the four movements of Messiaen's Ascension Suite (omitting "Transports of Joy") tomorrow at the Eucharist and Evensong. In the first and fourth movements (for the Eucharist), Messiaen "preaches" on some of the verses from John 17:
I. Majesty of Christ praying that his Father should glorify him -- "Father, the hour is come: glorify your Son, that your Son also may glorify thee." (John 17:1)
IV. Prayer of Christ, ascending toward his Father -- "I have manifested thy name unto men ... And now I am no more in the world, but these are in the world, and I come to thee." (John 17:6a, 11a)
At Evensong, I will play the second movement, the "Serene Alleluias of a soul longing for heaven," based on a phrase from the second collect for Ascension Day.
All of this music captures some of the flavor of John 17 in a manner that would be hard to do in words.
Vast cathedrals of lights and space -- what a wonderful way to describe John's Gospel. It has indeed a simplicity that belies its depth. So it is not surprising that music is better able to reach those depths than words. Perhaps that is why I prefer Bach's St. John Passion to St. Matthew (but not by much!). "Ruht wohl" has to be one of the most poignant and sublime settings of grief ever written.
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