Sermon, 6th Sunday of Easter

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you." (John 14:27)

On this Mother's Day, 2010, my thoughts have turned to leaving. In the Carolinas, at least, the tradition is that men and women wear a carnation in honor of their mothers, red if she is still with us, white if she has gone to that other shore. Since it was Laura who taught me that tradition, as an adult I have always worn white. My mother left too early. And yet, is that not the central mission that mothers, with some assistance from fathers, to teach their children to leave? To become productive citizens, charitable and loving Christians?

In other cultures, children are not taught to leave. They are taught to remain part of the extended family for generation after generation after generation. It would never occur to a Pashtun family in Afghanistan to teach their children that at some point they should leave home. But for whatever reasons, our culture is very different. Our family culture is one of leaving.

We heard last week that even Jesus is leaving. "Where I am going, you cannot come," He told his disciples. And so begins what scholars call the "Farewell Discourse." For four chapters, Jesus tries to help his friends understand two things. First, that He has to die. Second, that He will return to them. Sure He has to leave. But there is a happy ending to this story. Of course, none of that makes the leaving any easier. Mothers and fathers raise their children to leave home. Then they trust that, occasionally but not too often, they will come back. We trust in that coming back, and we hope for that coming back. But it doesn't make the leaving any easier.

But in today's Gospel, Jesus doesn't just say that He is "leaving his disciples. He says that He is leaving them with something. When He "leaves" his disciples, they will inherit something from him. "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you." It is not any peace of this world that Jesus gives. Any peace that the world gives is temporary. Nations make treaties and then break them. Politicians make coalitions and break them. Businessmen make profits, and then see their businesses fall to competitors. Whatever sense of peace you try to construct from whatever material the world gives you is only temporary.

So when Jesus says, "my peace, not as the world gives," what is He talking about? The best description that I can come up with for this kind of peace is freedom from anxiety. Consider when Jesus is giving this peace. It is Thursday night. Judas has already left to go get the Temple guards and bring them to arrest Jesus. His death is less than 24 hours away. Yet he shows not an ounce of anxiety. He trusts that He is doing the will of His Father. He trusts that whatever suffering the world is about to inflict on Him is as temporary as the world's peace. And so He can endure whatever is to come, free from fear, free from bitterness, free from anxiety.

Of course, that's all easy for Jesus to say. What about us? I've had my share of anxious moments these past two weeks. But they have come and gone. They have been temporary. And after those moods pass, what is left is peace, not as the world gives. Shelter is temporary. Books and CDs are temporary. Cars are temporary. Pictures are temporary. Whatever we grasp to give ourselves some "peace" is temporary. What is everlasting is the peace that comes when we focus only on what God wants for us, as individuals and as a community. God wants only the best for us and for Albertville.

Our task now is to pray and talk, to share our perspectives on what it is that God wants for us. When we are honest and respectful, and forgiving of each other, then we will inherit the peace of Jesus Christ that never leaves.