It’s ok not to be ok

Sermon on John 14:15-21

After my devotion on Psalm 22, one of our members asked me: “Pastor, are you ok? I was a little worried about you after reading your devotion. I mean, you are an extrovert and probably suffering under the shelter-in-place order and your devotion sounded so depressed.” 

In that moment, I laughed and answered something along the lines: “No, I am fine. Don’t worry.” And then I started talking about how I try to model to be honest and open as to encourage others to do the same. And that that is why I show my vulnerability openly. What a half-hearted answer that was. 

Because in that moment, I didn’t model at all. Instead I tried to stand my ground as a pastor and how a pastor should be in a traditional sense: strong and caring and robust and reliable and most importantly steadfast in everything. I said one thing and did the opposite and I didn’t even notice it until days later. I fell into a pastoral role, instead of replying: “Thanks for asking.” And opening the conversation right there. 

What remains true is that I intentionally try to be very honest about how I am coping with this pandemic. I show my neck, so you can show yours. That’s the strategy. And I am not doing it for some voyeuristic reasons. I am trying to provide space where it is ok not to be ok. Where it is ok to tell each other our struggles and to share our frustration. Where it is ok to show others who we truly are.

I sometimes get the impression that we as Christians have this idea, that we have to be strong and especially perseverant in times of trial since this is what our faith should have prepared us for. And for some of us this might be true and it’s great. No need to brag about. And for others, times like this pandemic might unveil the truth that we really rely on physical community and that there is a reason why we didn’t sign up for a life in solitude.  No need to be ashamed. 

Some people say, that this pandemic is a trial by God. Maybe it is. I don’t know that. But one thing I know. That God is not judging us by our fears. If at all, God will judge us by the love we gave or refused to give. That’s what it all comes down to. Love. 

Love is all we are supposed to do. At least, that’s what today’s Gospel says.

If you love me, you will keep my commandments. What these commandments are, John clarified in the previous chapter: "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (13.34-35).

So, let me fill in the blanks:  If you love me, you will love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." 

Did you count how often I just said “love”? No? Well, it’s fair to say: Love is in the air this Sunday. Lots of love. 

As easy as it sounds to love, Jesus knows it’s not and promises his friends another advocate for when Jesus will be gone. During his lifetime, Jesus himself was the advocate for his friends. The Greek word there is wonderfully dazzling. It includes everything from advocate to comforter and companion or aid. And it perfectly summarizes what Jesus was to his friends: their lifeline, who nourished their bodies and souls. The one who helped them to care for the sick and embrace the children and welcome foreigners.

Who would help them once he was gone? As much as they had already learned, Jesus knew: His disciples would never ever be ready to just roll in God’s love all by themselves. They would always need God right by their side to speak the truth. Without fear. Without being ashamed. Without shaming others. In short, they would always need God to speak the truth lovingly. And we still do. At least, I do.

Like last week when we went to the beach. And everyone kept their distance and reminded their kids to do the same. So, we all just chilled and relaxed for an hour, playing frisbee and even taking a first swim in the Bay. It was like a mini-vacation. Until a family walked up, way too close. I called my kids to stand aside and the other mom just said: “Don’t worry, it’s fine”, while walking very closely by us. I wanted to scream “No, it’s not fine! You don’t get to decide what’s fine during a pandemic.” But of course, I kept quiet. 

Then the same family decided to sit between us and the next family. Too close to both of us in my mind. Now, that stirred up some anger in me. It bothered me so much, that I started moving our towels away from them to allow more space. Yet, I didn’t really calm down and we left shortly after. My experience was spoiled. What happened? 

Love had made way for fear and anger only. Instead of just acknowledging that people have different levels of comfort right now and that all I can do is make sure, that I meet my comfort level, I got carried away judging these people. 

My fear of getting the virus stopped me from seeing the people as people. Instead, I projected my own anxieties into their behavior and kept blaming them even after I had solved the situation for my family. What a waste of sunshine and time to get so fed up with other people’s behaviors. 

Of course, I am not alone. The other day I read an article in the San Francisco Chronicle with the title “Shame on the shamer”. The journalist talked about how people sent her pictures of inappropriate behavior, asking her to shame these individuals in her texts. The idea backfired and instead, she wrote a piece about how normal it has become and how ridiculous it is to shame each other for how we deal with this pandemic. How seniors call on kids walking without masks or how some people accuse others of wanting to kill them. To wear or not to wear, that is the question and has become some kind of a political statement. Even in deserted streets and on empty beaches. 

Many of us are judging each other like crazy right now. Either for being afraid of the virus and wearing a mask. Or for not taking the virus seriously enough and not wearing a mask all the time. 

In this situation it’s good to remember that God sent us an advocate. Not to fight for our own laws, but for truthful love. To see all the different needs and situations. And to talk about our fears. Like with the family at the beach. Why didn’t I just talk to them from a safe distance? I simply assumed that they were careless and therefore dumb. That’s not very loving… Or, why didn’t I move a bit and let it be. I simply assumed that they were careless and therefore dumb. That’s not very loving… Good thing, Jesus sent us the Holy Spirit to keep up the hard work of love. This pandemic really shows me how much I still have to practice to follow Jesus’ simple commandment: To always put love before fear. Always. Amen.