Sunday, May 24, 2015

Overflowing Absence (Sermon)


“Overflowing Absence”
John 15:26-27 – 16:4b-15
Allen Huff
Jonesborough Presbyterian Church
5/24/15

         Before diving into John 15, let’s remember a couple more ancient memories.
         In the closing verses of the book of Exodus, Moses completes the original tabernacle, and the Shekinah, the glory of the Lord, settles upon the tabernacle as cloud and fire. In the very last verse of Exodus we read that “38…the cloud of the Lord was on the tabernacle by day, and fire was in the cloud by night.” (Ex. 40:38)
         Remember, the tabernacle is a moveable feast. God’s dwelling is made to get packed up and hauled from place to place like a family’s tent. This radical theological evolution declares that Yahweh is no idol. The Holy One of Israel is not bound to one place. Indeed, there is no place where Yahweh is not.
         Many generations later, King David wants to build a permanent home for Yahweh. But God says, Not now. I’m still working to establish your house.
Several years after David dies, his son Solomon orders the building of the first Jerusalem temple. Upon its completion, the priests enter the sanctuary to consecrate themselves. When they come out, the shekinah exhales upon the new temple, and “…the priests could not stand to minister because of the cloud; for the glory of the Lord filled the house of the Lord.” (1 Kings 8:11)
         In time, things fall apart, as they always do. In 587BC, the Babylonians seize Jerusalem and destroy the temple. Imagine the spiritual turmoil. Yahweh who? laugh Israel’s enemies. ‘Deliverer? King of the Universe? Not any more.
         Eventually, the exile ends, as well. And when it does, Ezra, Nehemiah, and others build a second temple in Jerusalem. The dedication is a happy enough affair, but Anglican theologian N.T. Wright calls attention to the fact that the expected and coveted Shekinah is conspicuously absent from this dedication service.1 Wright suggests that the absence of this critical presence may have helped give rise to Pharisaism.
By Jesus’ day, Pharisaism controls Jewish faith and life. It has become a system of rigorous and ruthless piety, but it is just a cover for the self-serving lust for a new demonstration of God’s glory. True religion for the Pharisees means trying, by whatever means necessary, to trigger the Shekinah of God to shine.2 Such faithlessness, however, only results in widespread amnesia of the shema – God’s foundational command which renders all other laws redundant by pointing the way to genuine holiness.
We find the shema in Deuteronomy 6:4-9. It begins with: “4Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. 5You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.” Adding Love of neighbor to this command, Jesus declares that Love God and Love Neighbor are the hooks on which “hang all the law and the prophets.” (Mt. 23:40)3
We begin to understand what the Shekinah of God is about, don’t we?
         The fourth Gospel is written no earlier than seventy years after Jesus’ ministry. John writes for followers of Jesus who have begun to feel like that second temple – an empty, God-forgotten shell, a community of faith with nothing in which to have faith. Addressing the community’s anxiety head-on, John presents a Jesus who says very bluntly: “I’m leaving now. You see me today, but tomorrow you won’t. If you had listened to me, you’d have some idea of where I’m going. But you haven’t really paid close attention. So you’re just sad and empty. And if all you feel is empty, get used to living like a pack of Pharisees, living just to make each other miserable.”
         Betrayal. Denial. Fear. And above all, self-righteousness. These are symptoms of emptiness. Friday and Saturday are about emptiness. In John, however, Thursday and Sunday bear witness to the advantage of Jesus’ absence. On Thursday, Jesus tickles his disciples’ imaginations with that absence and the promise of a new kind of presence. On Sunday it happens. On Sunday, the Shekinah returns, and the shema is restored.
In John, Pentecost does not happen forty days after Easter. In John, Pentecost happens on Easter. In John 20 we read: “19When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you...’22When he had said this, he breathed on them and said…, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’”
         By the power of the Advocate, the mystery that is the Risen Christ transforms terrified, locked-room emptiness into overflowing absence – that deep and wide space breathing with holiness and promise.
         I love and appreciate our house in Jonesborough; but it often feels like excess for just Marianne and me. When bothered by that, I remember that our home reflects the overflowing absence in Marianne’s heart. “I want room for the kids to come home,” she says, “and to bring families when they have them.” Our children’s absence does create in us a kind of bittersweet joy, and we nurture both the memoried absence and the hopeful joy.
Overflowing absence serves as a testament to both remembered and expected presence. It is a promised presence, and it drives us joyfully onward in faith, hope, and Love.
         Two of our young people are formally joining the church today. Elliott and Avery, I want you to be aware that you are committing yourselves to a spiritual life in which absence, doubt, and frustration remain as common as fullness, assurance, and gladness.
When absence gathers itself around you or in you, remember that the early church struggled with exactly the same feelings. Remember that absence often becomes the realm of the richest experiences of faith. Into the maw of apparent emptiness, Jesus breathes his peace, his promise. He breathes his Love for you and for all creation. And in such overflowing absences we tend to rely most completely on God.
         Pentecost declares that Spirit-mystery is always at work. We will never get our minds around this mystery. The best we will ever get is our hearts open to it. As Paul says over and over to the Easter/Pentecost community of the early church, We are the new temple. The Shekinah of God shines in the Love of God, and Resurrection is even now breathing this glorious Love through us deep into the world’s emptiness.
When we seek awareness of Mystery in ourselves, we begin to see it in others, and in all of creation. The presence of Pentecost Mystery holds the power to transform every absence into a temple overflowing with the glory of God.


2Ibid.
3See also Mark 12:31, Luke 10:25ff., and John 31:34-35

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