During my career as an education junkie, I’ve noticed that certain words have the power to strike terror in our hearts. Those words generally pertain to the road not yet traveled—the road that would offer great challenges, opportunities for intense effort and the ever-present possibility of failure. These words are generally whispered to small groups of novices by older, seasoned and world-weary folks. When I was in the third grade, the word was fractions. As I approached high school, it was physics. Over the years and through a good handful of schools, there were many words and phrases that filled me with anxiety: Kreb’s cycle. Present value. I imagine you all have similar words that remind you of challenges in your learning experiences. Then I got to seminary and was hit with two big ones: preaching and verbatim reports. A verbatim report is just what it sounds like it might be: a written word-for-word record of an interaction. The verbatim writing process is especially helpful for training people who are entering fields like psychology, social work and ministry. A verbatim is a great window for students to study their responses during an interaction. The only catch is that they have to be done from memory. No recorders. No notes. Just memory. I was terrified at the thought. I was sure I couldn’t do it. Thank heaven, just like doing fractions, writing a verbatim turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I learned to listen—really listen—to what the other person was saying. I learned that paying attention to the other person instead figuring out what I was going to say next was critical to hearing—and to remembering. I learned that paying attention to what I was feeling during the conversation could help me recall the exact words when I was finally able to write. I also learned that writing a verbatim is easier if you know before the conversation begins that you’re going to need to write it down later.
Two things tend to happen to our memories when we’re in the middle of critical events. Sometimes every word—every image—is indelibly burned into our memory. Sometimes we are so shocked by what’s happening that it all becomes a blur, and later we struggle to remember what happened—to remember what we heard—to hold the image of what we saw—to touch the feeling we experienced in the moment. As I’ve reflected on today’s gospel and all the twists and turns of the chapters surrounding it, I’ve wondered how the disciples pieced together the story later. They didn’t have the luxury of knowing how important their witness would be to all of us who pick at scripture today. They may not even have realized what was happening until that moment in the garden when he was surrounded by the Roman soldiers and the temple police.
Today’s gospel portion takes us into the time machine. On this 7th Sunday in the season of Easter, four days after the celebration of Christ’s ascension, we are back on the night before Jesus’ death. He and his disciples have eaten their last meal together. He has washed their feet. He’s sent Judas out to do what he’s going to do. At this point, he begins to tell them goodbye. He speaks to them as most of us would want to speak to our loved ones if we knew it was our last opportunity.
Today’s gospel is in the middle of that long farewell. He has told his disciples that he is leaving them. He has told them he is sending a spirit of truth to guide them. Now he prays that God will protect them. Jesus asks for protection for those in whom he himself has been glorified and he asks for eternal life for those who have followed him. He speaks of eternal life as knowledge of God—the deep experience of knowing and being known by God that comes through seeking connection with the Creator. Then he asks that we may be one as he and God are one.
I’m staggered by the size of the Jesus’ prayer on our behalf—and by the faith and trust in God that elicited the prayer. First, Jesus is asking that we, the sons and daughters of God, be brought to share the same level of relationship with God as Jesus himself has experienced. Second, he asks that we, the sons and daughters of God, be one—that we be united with each other just as he has been with God. As we eavesdrop on this prayer, it seems that if these things happen—if Jesus’ followers are given eternal life through knowing God, and if we are one as he and God are one—God will be glorified in us, just as God was glorified in Jesus’ life on earth.
It’s important that we notice something about this prayer before we go any further. Jesus’ prayer has no bargain attached. There is no quid pro quo. There is no contingency clause based in our behavior. At this point in the story, Jesus has already told the disciples and everyone else who would listen that there are two commandments: to love God and to love our neighbor as ourselves. He has already given us those commandments, but he doesn’t point that out to God, aside from saying that he has given to us the word God has given to him. He doesn’t give any assurance of our good behavior. He simply asks on our behalf. He simply asks that the unity he has experienced with God be extended to us.
The kicker in this whole thing for me is that I have no doubt that this prayer has been answered. I have no doubt that in the moment of asking, God’s will is for us to know him just as Jesus did, and that God’s will is for us to be one, just as God and Jesus are one. That’s God’s will, and it’s pretty clear that we’re not quite there yet. I imagine there are days when God regrets the gift of freewill that allows us to choose how we will respond to God’s call to us.
God holds us and loves us with an open hand—giving us all we have and offering eternal life. Too often, our tendency is to look in another direction—to see what we can make of our lives on our own. And what we make of our lives depends—ultimately—on the choices we make about our relationship with God. It’s that relationship that drives the rest of our choices. From our very beginning, God loves us and calls us to love in return, in response to the experience of being loved by the one who creates us. All that we are and all that we do emerges from the choices we make in response to that love. Eternal life is given freely to us. Whether we accept the gift and live more deeply into relationship with God and with each other is our choice. If we live in such a way that we use the gifts we’ve been given to God’s purpose, if we use our experience to grow in knowledge of ourselves and God, God will be glorified in each of us.
It’s just that simple. And just that difficult.