“Don’t let your heart be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me. In God’s house are many rooms.”
These were Jesus’ words to his disciples. They are also his words to us. “Don’t let your heart be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me.” I can’t tell you how many times I have read those words aloud at a memorial service. They are such good words.
Jesus said them to his disciples on the eve of his own death. Jesus had tried to prepare them for his death, but they could not understand that anything good could come from it.
It’s easy from our perspective––looking back at the cross and the open tomb––seeing Good Friday and Easter together–– it’s easy to disparage the disciples. Hindsight is 20/20. Jesus was helping them to see into the future––showing them what to expect.
Couldn’t they see! Couldn’t they believe! Couldn’t they realize that Jesus could transform death on a cross into something beautiful! The answer is “No!” They couldn’t see. Not completely. They couldn’t see beyond the cross––and you can’t blame them.
Jesus had shown his disciples things beyond anything that they had ever seen. He had drawn great crowds that came to hear his words––to get a glimpse of him––to have him touch their children and heal their sick. It was clear that Jesus was on the verge of something big.
The disciples had come to believe that Jesus was the Messiah. They had good reason to believe that Jesus was poised to change the world. Empowered by God, Jesus could transform Israel. He could wrestle leadership from the hands of corrupt men and make Israel as great as it had been in the time of King David. If Jesus really was the Messiah, the possibilities were endless.
He had come right to the brink of huge success, but then he started speaking of dying. The disciples didn’t know what to make of it. They were depressed. They were afraid. They knew that there was great danger. If Jesus had told the disciples not to worry because he was about to take control, they would have been greatly relieved. But Jesus talked about dying.
You can’t blame the disciples for being depressed––for being afraid. We would have been afraid too. But Jesus said, “Don’t let your heart be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me.”
This was the context when he uttered these beloved and comforting words. He knew his disciples were troubled. He knew that they were afraid. He knew that they thought of death as the end––as defeat.
But Jesus knew that his death would not be the end. He knew that his death would not mean defeat for God, but would instead defeat the powers of death and darkness. Jesus knew that his journey into darkness would continue until he broke out into the light. And so he said, “Don’t let your heart be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me.”
Do you? Do you claim his words as your own for a worried and troubled heart? Easy for him to say. But trouble is never far behind, even during ordinary times, and these are no ordinary times. The covid pandemic is gripping the world. Healthcare workers are risking their lives. Many people have lost family members or loved ones to the virus, or may be battling the virus themselves.
How can Jesus say, “Let not your hearts be troubled”? How can he say “Be not afraid?” Doesn’t he know what we’re going through? Isn’t he aware of the news?
Of course he does. And he is not above it, he’s in the midst of it. The bible was not withoutits’ plagues, wars, disasters, and a flood for the ages.
Jesus is not saying he will take away our troubles. He is saying he will be with us in the midstof our troubles. He knew his own sufferings and death would not be spared or mitigated. But his ministry and essence of who he was says that death is not the end, but life. Love is the last word. It always is. Unconditional love. It is the nature of God, and Jesus was transparent in order to embody that message.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,” John Donne wrote.
“One short sleep past, we wake eternally
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.” he concludes his sonnet.
It is, of course, one of the big questions that has been debated through the ages. Is there life after death? What will it be like? Will I see my loved ones? Over the years people have come to me with those same questions. They want and deserve to know.
I can’t prove anything, and I certainly don’t have all the answers. Someone once quipped that any question that can be answered is not worth asking! I can’t remember if it was Socrates or Mark Twain. But a couple years ago, something happened, and I did get a confirmation of sorts.
We lost our beloved Golden Retriever Chase. He was the light of my life and constant companion. We were inseparable. It was devastating. I let him out in the back yard one day. He was running around and playing as usual. I went back in the house. A few minutes later, he did not come when I called. I went out, and there he was. Dead. Suddenly. Inexplicably.
I was totally distraught. Heartbroken. Crushed. And so I did the only thing I knew how to do. I prayed. I prayed more fervently and earnestly then I had for a long time. I prayed for answers. I prayed for relief. But most of all, I prayed to know if he was alright, and if we would ever see each other again.
Months went by, and nothing happened. No answers. No inkling. I had stopped asking. And then, quite a few months later, I was at a beautiful retreat center in NJ with my spiritual direction group. It was a Saturday night. I woke up early, forgetting for a moment where I was. As I sat on the side of the bed in the twilight moments between sleeping and waking, I remembered the dream I just had.
That in itself was unusual because I never remember my dreams. It had been years. But startled and amazed, the vivid details of the dream began to sink in. In the dream I was laying in a beautiful, green meadow as far as the eye could see. I was laying in the grass with arms spread wide, like a kid making an angel in the snow, but there was only green grass and a warm breeze.
Standing above me were four of the dogs I have owned in my lifetime, including our last two Goldens, one of whom was Chase. They were smiling and wagging their tails, and licking me in the face. I couldn’t keep from laughing. Then God said, “They’re home now. They’re withme, and you will be together again.”
I wish I was an artist and could paint that picture. I remember the details so clearly. Could have been yesterday. It was a scene of total bliss and peace. I haven’t really been afraid since then.
Don’t confuse that scene by something you might see on the Hallmark channel, or read in a sympathy card. I didn’t want the dream to end. I wanted to stay there. All I could think of was the Psalmist’s words in the 23rd Psalm that you heard last Sunday– “The Lord is myshepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures.”
I’ve never seen grass or anything so green. I experienced those green pastures. I got to lay down in them and romp around with my dogs. To be honest, I might have not have believed that story if it had come from somebody else. I’m skeptical that way. Were they making it up? I’m not the type to fall for a feel good story. Life is too harsh. Death seems too final. Butit happened. And even today, sometimes I ask, “Is this too good to be true?” Is this just what I wanted to believe? Sometimes you just have to accept the gift, and consider yourself blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to pull back the veil and get a peep on the other side.
I wish I could have been by the bedside of some of the corona virus victims as they neared the end of their days. I might have shared that story. Or maybe they had stories they wanted someone to hear. Or maybe death would have been different if they had not been alone, if a family member had been allowed to be there. “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God. Believe also in me,” Jesus said.
There is one other aspect to today’s gospel that intrigues me – a very different one.
Jesus says, “In God’s house are many rooms . . . many rooms. For years, I thought that meant that there was one way and one house, and the only way to get there was through Jesus. But perhaps we make Jesus more dogmatic and narrow minded then he actually was.
Today I wonder . . . and it may not be your cup of tea, but I wonder if Jesus meant that therewould be room . . . there is room for others in God’s house who may not call themselves“Christian,” that there is space for Jews, Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, agnostics, sceptics, and anybody who ever felt excluded or disillusioned, or ever doubted.
Maybe God’s house will open into one large room and one large banquet table where all will be welcome, for God’s grace and unconditional love is surely poured out upon all, as surely as the rain and the sunshine are poured upon everyone. I suspect there is nothing anyone cando to avoid God’s love and grace except to refuse to receive it. In the meantime, I just keep on seeing that vast green field with my four dogs, and know that all will be well.