Our Mother, Christ

A sermon based on John 14:23-29

Jesus answered him, ‘Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.

‘I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. You heard me say to you, “I am going away, and I am coming to you.” If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.

In the name of Jesus; amen.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not let them be afraid.”

When my brother and I were little the prospect of my parents going out for the night meant that we would have a sitter. Now, I was a momma’s girl and I never liked the idea of my mother going out and leaving us to be cared for by someone else. But the worst part for me was going to bed at night when my mother wasn’t home and the person taking care of us wasn’t my father.

Home took on a new meaning without my mom in it especially at night. There were nights with sitters where I would lie in bed trying to fall asleep with a feeling that could only be described as homesickness. For a little girl it was an odd concept; to be at home and still feel homesick and yet, that is exactly how I felt without my mother to tuck me in and kiss me goodnight.

I never wanted my mom to go away even for a night because that feeling was awful.

Except there was one sitter who didn’t make me feel that way. Whenever she would come I knew we were in for a good time. Doris would play with us, let us watch our TV shows, make us cool fun food, let us stay up past our bedtime and tuck my brother and me in bed just like my mom did. If Doris was our sitter, I could handle the fact that my mom wasn’t there.

In today’s gospel Jesus tells the disciples that he is leaving. It continues a theme from last week’s gospel where Jesus says this:

“Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.’”

Maybe some of you will have a hard time with the concept of Jesus being like a mother, but the idea is not so far off. Jesus referred to himself as a mother hen wanting to gather her brood under her wings and at the end of the 14th and beginning of the 15th centuries mystic Julian of Norwich wrote a series of visions in which she described Christ as mother.

She wrote:
“The Second Person of the Trinity is our mother in nature, in our substantial making. In him we are grounded and rooted, and he is our mother by mercy in our sensuality, by taking flesh.

“Thus our mother, Christ, in whom our parts are kept unseparated, works in us in various ways. For in our mother, Christ, we profit and increase, and in mercy he reforms and restores us, and by virtue of his passion, death, and resurrection joins us to our substance. This is how our mother, Christ, works in mercy in all his beloved children who are submissive and obedient to him….”

And of course it seems apropos for today to consider the idea.

Jesus is a mother about to leave her children in the care of another.

At this point in John’s gospel Jesus has told the disciples what is going to happen to him. They must be in a state of denial and despair; denial of the possibility that Jesus was really going to die and despair of the possibility that they would be without him.

I never wanted to believe that my parents would actually go out without me and my brother and I almost always worried that I would be ok without them.

Jesus promises that when he leaves his disciples someone else will come to take care of them. Our translation of this reading calls this other caretaker the Advocate, but the original word Jesus uses is Paraklete which I always find a funny sounding word. Is it a bird? Is it a pair of those shoes with spikes on the bottom that you wear to play sports?

Advocate is a good translation, but not perfect. It’s one of those words that loses the nuance when translated from the original. Other translations use, comforter, counselor, friend, and helper.

When we think of having an advocate we think of having a person who will speak on our behalf. It’s true, that’s what an advocate does, but the Advocate that the Father sends is meant to speak on behalf of Jesus.

The Advocate that the Father sends is meant to care for us on behalf of Jesus.

The Holy Spirit is our babysitter, the one that takes care of us in Jesus’ absence. But the Spirit isn’t just any old babysitter. The Spirit is the one that teaches us everything we need to know about Jesus and reminds us what he told us. The Holy Spirit is the one who comforts us and takes away that feeling of homesickness when Jesus, our mother is not with us.

The Spirit is the one who gives us the peace of Christ in Christ’s absence.

Mothers are meant to love their children; not all do and not all do it well, but Jesus, our mother, loves us enough, more than enough so that even in this time when we wait for his return we are provided for out of that love.

It is the Paraklete who tucks us into bed at night and kisses us on the forehead, reminds us to say our prayers and tells us that we are deeply loved.

It is the Paraklete who tells us not to worry… mom will be home again soon and we don’t need to be afraid.

It is the Paraklete who holds us until Christ comes again to gather us up in his arms and hold us close.

We are cared for and loved by our mother Jesus and our Father in Heaven and the Paraklete, the Holy Spirit, Christ’s advocate and our caretaker.

Amen.