Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel: “So you also are now in anguish.  But I will see you again, and your  hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you.”

Again, he speaks in the near term about his Passion, death, and Resurrection.  But he also speaks in the long term about what many call the “in-between time” that exists between his First Coming and the Second Coming.

In this time, we still deal with suffering, death, and evil in our world.  Things are not always easy.  For some, they might seem never to be easy.  But we know there is a time coming for us when there will be no more suffering…no more pain.  After this life, there is another.  One in which we are united with the Trinity and partake in their divine life for all eternity.  At that time, we will have joy that cannot be taken from us.  There will be no need to ask for anything because we will be so overwhelmed by the beauty and awesomeness of God that we could not possibly need or want anything else.

But does that mean that we have no joy now?  Does that mean that we are back to square one waiting for Jesus like the Jews waited for the Messiah?  No, the end that Jesus talks about is partially realized today.  When Jesus returned to the Father, he sent the Holy Spirit to us.  In this time, despite the continued suffering that we must endure, we know of the Resurrection.  It is not just a hope, but something that we know because of the witnesses that told us.  That Resurrection gives us joy.  Perhaps it is not the complete joy that we will have at the end of time.  But it is a joy, nonetheless.  And it is one that, together with the gifts of the Spirit, can help carry us through what we have in this world.

We do not see Jesus as the Apostles did in their time.  But he sees us.  And he is present to us.  Even though we live here a long way from where Jesus walked with the Apostles.  He sees us.  And he loves us.  From the right hand of the Father.  Interceding for us with the Father. 

Can we think of examples of Christian joy that we have seen in others?  Do others see Christian joy in us?

In today’s Gospel passage from John, Jesus tells his disciples, “A little while and you will no longer see me, and again a little while later and you will see me.”  It almost sounds like a game that you might play with a child.  What does he mean?

Notice how, in his divinity, Jesus knows what they are thinking.  He is then able to answer the question that was never vocalized. 

The first thing that comes to mind for us today is likely that Jesus must be talking about his death and Resurrection as the two events.  They will not see Jesus after his death, but they will see him after the Resurrection.  Yes, the world rejoices at his death.  Evil believes they have won.  They were wrong.  Very wrong.  The victory is won by Christ. 

Notice though how the disciples link his statement to his return to the Father.  Ultimately, that is what this is about.  Jesus will return to the Father and will be present to us in a different way going forward.

After the Ascension, Jesus is present in a different way to us.  Yet, at the same time, we are invited into a deeper relationship with him in this different presence.  He can be present to us now.  We are not required to be residents of first century Galilee for Jesus to be with us.  In being present to us now, he wants us to know him and love him in a profound way.  He does not force it to happen.  He offers it to us.  He sends the invitation and asks us to accept it.   Becoming one with the divine by being in relationship with God is the gift that he offers.

How does this relationship affect the rest of our lives?  How do we approach everything else in the light of our faith?  This relationship can, and should, permeate every aspect of our lives.  It should affect all that we do and all that we think.

I know a priest who was visiting an old friend.  This friend happened to live in the same area as a pastor who had just been named bishop of this first priest’s diocese.  So, the priest told the bishop-elect a few things about the diocese.  But, after only sharing a few things, he finished with the phrase, “I have much more to tell you, but you cannot bear it now.”

Why is it that Jesus would have to say that to them at that moment?  Why might he have to say that to us now?

In the midst of what might seem an existential crisis, it can be difficult for us to hear of anything else.  When the Messiah was being taken from them to his death, was anyone remembering the details of the Sermon on the Mount?  Might have been helpful if they could, but the waves of emotion associated with the immediate situation likely swamped them.  All that they could think about was what was right in front of them.  The same is likely true for us many times. 

I recall the story of a spiritual director.  His directee was alarmed at the seemingly increased evil in the world.  The spiritual director pause, smiled, and said, “Yes, evil is increasing.  But so is good.  Both sides are building toward the final battle.  And we know who wins in the end.”

It can seem impossible to have such peace amid chaos, or even evil.  Somehow, the holiest people seem to be able to do that.  Saint John Vianney was tormented many nights by the Evil One.  Then, he realized that such torments always preceded a day when a great sinner would ask for forgiveness.  He came to look forward to these torments because he knew what would follow.  Jesus himself slept in the boat as it was taking on water during a storm.  We all likely know of holy ones who, in times of great need, would simply smile and say, “God will provide.”

Can we too grow in such faith and love for God that we can find such peace during trials?  Yes.  It likely will take time and perseverance in prayer.  Pope Saint John Paul II confronted the evil of Communism, but he did so as a man of tremendous prayer.  So too for us, this peace that we seek is necessarily grounded in a great, great love of God and very deep prayer.  We abandon ourselves to the will of God.  And we can find peace in doing so.

In today’s Gospel from John, Jesus tells those gathered for the Last Supper that he is going to the one who sent him.

Jesus’ departure is essential so that he can send the Holy Spirit.  But he is not leaving them completely.  He will still be present to them.  But he will be present in a different way. 

In his earthly ministry, Jesus is present to a particular group of people in a particular time and in a particular place.  In his humanity, he is subject to the same constraints of time and space that we are. 

But, in returning to the Father, he can be present at all times and in all places to all people.  Once his finally glorified with the Father, he can in turn send the Spirit from his place with the Father to those who believe in him.

This was a great change for those who followed Jesus.  But, in making this change, his followers are invited into an even deeper relationship with him through the Spirit.

Are we open to how major changes can be invitations to a deeper relationship with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit?  With all that has gone on over these last couple of months, with all that the parish has tried to do to remain connected with you, with how your schedules and routines have changed, and with how your whole lives have changed, have you seen an invitation to a deeper relationship with God?   

Perhaps schedules have eased from their normally overwhelming volume of activities.  Perhaps there are more family meals because of our inability to dine out at restaurants.  There have certainly been difficulties, even great ones, but have there also been opportunities?  Opportunities to connect with family.  Opportunities to pray more regularly and more deeply.

What changes have we experienced over these last two months that we want to retain? 

Things are slowly starting back to normal.  Perhaps not the old normal…at least for some time.  Perhaps to a new normal for now.  And perhaps, over these last two months, we have experienced that deeper relationship with God.  That is certainly a change worth holding on to.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us that the Spirit of truth testifies to him. But also, that the Apostles testify to him because they have been with him from the beginning.

In today’s world, some seem to invoke the Holy Spirit as the reason for changes. Others invoke tradition as a reason for keeping things exactly the same.

From Church teaching, we know that the Holy Spirit speaks to us. One of the ways of describing the Church is as the Temple of the Holy Spirit. Saint Paul talked of gifts of the Holy Spirit. We know that the Holy Spirit continues to guide the Church today as it did at Pentecost.

At the same time, we know that the Apostles testify to Jesus. We look toward both Sacred Scripture and Tradition as sources of truth in the faith. Tradition with a capital “T” is handed down from the Apostles to the successors of the Apostles. We respect all teaching handed down over the centuries. There is a reason why something was the way that it was.

To say that we must choose between the Holy Spirit and tradition is a false choice. If we say that the Holy Spirit speaks to us today and allows us to completely break from the past, then we must ask where the Holy Spirit was in those prior years. Did the Holy Spirit abandon those who had come before us?

Saint John Henry Newman found a way to avoid this false choice with what he called the “development of Christian doctrine.” It allows for continual development of doctrine by allowing change that is not a rupture with the past. It allows us to value what the past can tell us without being resistant to change. He gives seven tests for determining authentic development that would require considerable explanation to cover fully. But we should understand that we do not have to choose between change and respect for tradition.

Are we able to see the stirrings of the Holy Spirit in us today? Can we respect and understand…and value…the Catholic development of teaching over nearly two millennia that opens up what Christ first taught us? Are we open to change in a way that is still consistent with what came before?

In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus says, “On that day you will realize that I am in my Father and you are in me and I in you.”

I am in in my Father and you are in me and I in you.

We look all over the world to find fulfillment. But we often fail to take the time to look within. We often fail to find God inside us.

Saint Augustine would readily identify with this problem. In his spiritual autobiography, Confessions, he famously wrote, “Late have I loved you, beauty so old and so new: late have I loved you. And see, you were within and I was in the external world and sought you there, and in my unlovely state I plunged into those lovely created things which you made. You were with me, and I was not with you.”

Saint Augustine was led to the understanding that he could best find God within himself rather than out in the created world. Rather than chasing outside, he turned inward.

On the wall opposite my desk here in this office, and alongside my copy of Dali’s John of the Cross, I have a copy of the painting of Jesus knocking on the door. It is always pointed out that there is no handle that Jesus could use to open the door. We are the ones that must open the door.

But others have pointed out that we can also reverse this image. In a very Augustinian understanding, we could see Jesus on the inside knocking and inviting us to enter inside and into a relationship with him.

Returning to Jesus’ quote, we also see that he is in communion with the Father. But, if we are in Jesus, then Jesus helps to bring us into that communion too.

Our interior life is necessarily interior. There is no concern there for other’s opinions of us. There is no room for seeking approval from others. There are no to-do lists. There are no worldly pressures. There is just us and God. It is there that we understand our status as a beloved child of God. It is from that simple and yet wonderful fact that we draw our sense of self-worth and our true identity.

Grounded in a solid interior life, we can be better able to encounter the exterior world. We can be more focused on serving others than needing anything ourselves. We can draw our satisfaction from inside rather than outside because we have found God inside.

“If you belonged to the world, the world would love its own; but because you do not belong to the world, and I have chosen you out of the world, the world hates you.”

As Christians, we are in this world, but not of this world. Jesus reminds us in today’s Gospel that we do not belong to this world. This is not our home. We are mere transients moving through this world. We have no permanent home here. Our home is in the next world. We are pilgrim people. We are going toward a holy place – the ultimate holy place. It is typically a long slow journey in which the journey itself helps to sanctify us as we move toward our sacred home.

We still have responsibilities in this life. We still have a state in life in this life. We have a vocation to live out in this life. We must do so with a sense of mission. Christians take commitments seriously. Jobs should be done to the best of our abilities. In whatever profession that we are employed, we take that profession to be our craft. And we do that craft well. And we always look to improve in our craft. Much as Saint Joseph would have done as a craftsman himself.

At the same time, we have a sense of joy and hope from our faith. We know that something much better awaits us. When we have finished our pilgrimage and reached our sacred place (or, perhaps more accurately, our sacred state of being), we have a hope for the greatness of that which awaits us. We know that our Savior has conquered death. Because of the Resurrection, there is great joy.

Life will always throw us curveballs. Something unexpected always happens. We adjust to the best of our God-given abilities and move on. Knowing that the things of this life are not what is most important. We deal with them as best we can while keeping our eyes focused on the goal. We are always looking at Christ. This is not something that those who are entirely of this world will ever understand. We might even be hated because of it. But that does not deter us in making this journey.

Those who recognize that this life is a pilgrimage can rejoice in the good things in this life without being crushed by its adversities. Whatever duration that our individual pilgrimage might be, we give thanks for the opportunity to make it. But we especially give thanks for the destination that awaits.

I took a retreat once that was led by a prior abbot at the Monastery of the Holy Spirit in Conyers, GA.  During the retreat, he said, “Tell me your view of God, and I will tell you how you pray.  Conversely, tell me how you pray, and I will tell you your view of God.”

Some people have a view of God as a very distant and all-powerful ruler.  This God is one to be feared.  If God is all-powerful, then God can do whatever he wants.  In the extreme, God’s will becomes very arbitrary.  This God could even do evil if he wanted.  We talk about evil in terms of moral evil (what someone decides to do) and physical evil (the storms, earthquakes, illnesses, and similar bad things that just happen in this world).  In this view of God, he could bring any of these things upon us at any time.

At the other extreme, God is viewed as a stuffed animal that merely gives us companionship.  Perhaps God affirms whatever we choose to do.  This perspective can also lead to God as a vending machine.  We key in the right code through prayer, and we are given whatever we wish.

Jesus gives a view of the first Person of the Trinity as Father.  He encourages us to call God the Father “our Father.”  A father loves his children with great love.  This Father loves us with an infinite love.  But this is not a love that affirms us in any choice that we make.  This a Father that protects us from the full effects of our sins.  But sometimes we are permitted to feel at least some of the effects of our sins so that we can learn the lesson that God wants us to learn.  This is a Father that encourages us and even challenges us.  This Father wants his children to do what is best for them…to fulfill their potential…that they might experience the results of these good choices. 

Jesus tells us in today’s Gospel that he calls us friends.  We are not slaves.  Certainly, we are not to cower in complete fear of him.  Instead, we are invited to friendship.  This is an intimate relationship with one who loves us infinitely, not that of a mere acquaintance.  Earlier, Jesus had promised another advocate.  He is the first though.  Not just a legal representative, but a consoler and a guide. 

How do we see God the Father?  How do we see Jesus?  How do we view our relationship with them?  What does our prayer look like?  Who do we encounter in prayer?  And what happens in that encounter?

Many of you know what is like to share a long and happy marriage with someone.  All of us know examples that we have seen.  I am thinking of those couples who can share beautiful silence together without feeling an obligation to break the silence.  This is not an icy silence of two people that do not want to speak to one another.  This is a loving silence of two people who know of the other’s love for them without it having to be verbalized.

That is a beautiful thing.  It is an earthly version of the communion of the Holy Trinity.  We sometimes describe the Trinity as the Father loving the Son, the Son returning the love to the Father, and the Spirit as the love shared between them. 

If we imagine such a scene, whether the earthly one of the happily married couple or the image of the communion of the Trinity, what comes to mind?  Love, of course.  But we almost certainly also think of peace.  We might also think of great happiness. 

This is an image that should come time mind when we read today’s Gospel.  Jesus tells us of the love that the Father has for him.  And he tells us how that love is a love that he shares with us.  Then he tells us to remain in his love.  Other translations use the verb “abide.”  From our own images, there is also a sense of resting in that love.

Then we are called to love one another.  To be willing to sacrifice ourselves for one another.  Something that seems exceedingly difficult.  But, in the context of our earlier image, it is something that can also seem easier and even natural.  The word spoken to us by Jesus makes us more fruitful and allows us to help others to enter this communion.

What images do we see when we think of the communion of the Trinity?  How do those images include us as part of that communion?

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower.”

There is so much in just this one sentence.

Jesus is the true vine.  He says this to draw the contrast with all the Old Testament passages which see Israel as the vine.  Isaiah 5’s story of how the vines yield only wild grapes might be the most famous passage, but there are also passages in Jeremiah 2:21, Ezekiel 19:10–14, and Psalm 80:18–19 that see Israel as the vine.  This all would be well known to a first century Jew. 

Jesus points instead to himself as the vine.  He is our link to life.  He is our mediator with the Father.  In him, humanity and divinity touch.  If God neglected us for even a moment, we would perish.  But, joined to the vine, we have life.  If we choose to separate ourselves from God, we forfeit the promise of eternal life.  We have life through our connection to the vine. 

Jesus is the vine, but the Father is the vine grower.  What Jesus does, he does to fulfill the Father’s plan.  He does so in obedience to the Father’s plan.  Jesus and the Father are one in that they share the same divine nature.  They also share the same will.  There is nothing that the Father wants that the Son does not also want (and vice versa).  Just as the vine grower maps out his vineyard, the Father has a plan for all creation. 

The vine and the vine grower are connected in a special way.  Jesus and the Father share a communion of love in the Spirit.  Because we are connected to Jesus, we can share in this communion of love.  That is what we are promised as the fulfillment of our very creation. 

Jesus is also the head of the Church.  We cannot survive as Church if we separate ourselves from Jesus Christ.  When our experience of Church becomes about us rather than about our being joined to Christ and offering worship and prayer to the Father through the Spirit, we die.  Of course, it goes without saying that we also bear no fruit.  A wealth of good vocations is a sign of spiritual health for a parish.  It cannot happen when we are separated from the vine.  It cannot happen when we make ourselves the focus of the Church.  We are called to celebrate divine mysteries and not to celebrate ourselves.  If we have an improper orientation, we bear no fruit.

How do I make sure that I remain connected to the vine?  How do I contribute to the right orientation of myself and others within my parish?