Transcript
Do not let your hearts be troubled. And do not let them be afraid. Please be seated.
In case you missed it. Last week I preached on praising God and glorifying God by being the very best version of God’s creation that we can be. For the case of the mountains. That means being the best mountain possible. To the case of the fog. The best fog possible even for the sea monster and loud boiling test tubes. And yes, I got loud. I mean, after all, isn’t that what praise is? Loud and boisterous, exciting and excited, animated and joy filled? Yes. And. Yes, praise is all of that. The loudness and the excitement and the energy and also praise doesn’t have to be any of that. After all, if we are looking at all that God has created and continues to create, and we think about it, lilies of the field aren’t known for being loud, beautiful mornings just before the sun crests the horizon aren’t known for being loud, at least not until the birds start singing.
And our own praise doesn’t have to be loud either. Our own praise can be as quiet as that little droplet of dew gathered on that blade of grass, or even the stars twinkling in the dark sky, announcing the beginning of a new moon cycle, or even that very last leaf fluttering to the ground on a cold autumn day just before winter begins. Our praise, the world’s praise. It doesn’t have to be big and boisterous and extroverted. That’s what Jesus is saying in today’s gospel reading, while actually like the past few gospel readings.
Jesus is saying a lot. After all, for the past few weeks, we have jumped back to Jesus’s last night with his disciples, his last night before arrest and crucifixion to the discourse of the Last Supper. That’s the official title. When Jesus tries to shove every single piece of advice and theological thought, he possibly can shove into one long monologue when he’s trying to say that this is it, this is the end. And after the end there will be another end. An end where Jesus won’t simply descend to the dead and then rise up again. He will also ascend to heaven, and we will have to wait and wait and wait for him to return. And in the meantime, while we are waiting, we are called to praise God by loving those around us in an effort to not just seek God in others. Also to reveal God to others. Soon Jesus is going away and we will be left behind to wait.
I’m sure we all know what it’s like to be left behind. Maybe our memories don’t go quite as far back as being left behind with a babysitter. When our parents went off on an exciting date night. Maybe we’ve felt the abandonment of being left behind when friends or neighbors move away. Or in relationships end. Be it a marriage ending in divorce, or a boyfriend or girlfriend quote dumping you, or simply the growing apart of friendships when there seems to be nothing left in common or even in those really hard moments when those we love die and we are left behind to try to keep living.
About 41 days ago, Jesus left the disciples for the first time when he died, and in only four more days he will leave again, ascending to heaven. In case you were wondering. Thursday is the feast of the Ascension when Jesus ascends to heaven. So in a span of 45 days, a month and a half, the disciples will experience the loss of their Messiah twice. And Jesus tells them, do not let your hearts be troubled. Do not let them be afraid.
Because you see. Praising God can also happen in the midst of grief as well. In the midst of pain and anger and hopelessness and sadness, because of the way we praise God is through love. Then, even in the moments when we might feel the least amount of love, when we might not feel like we’re praising God at all. We are still praising God because like I said, praising God doesn’t have to be big and boisterous and high energy and exuberant because we aren’t always like that, believe me. Even I am not always that big and boisterous and high energy and exuberant, as hard as that is to imagine.
And if as fully created in God’s image, humans who experience the full spectrum of all the experience, if we pretend like praise is only the big and boisterous and high energy and exuberant kind of praise, and we fail to acknowledge the praise that is also quiet and still. The praise that looks like a pile of dirty tissues next to a phone. Or a quiet corner in the doctor’s waiting room. Or a mound of freshly covered dirt next to a grave marker. Or that one bench with that one view. You know the one. Praise can be with shouts of joy and tears of pain, because both of those are aspects of what it means to be human, created by God in God’s image. Rumi, the Persian Islamic mystic poet, wrote this: if you love someone, you are joined with them in joy and absence and solitude and strife.
Praising God means loving God and loving one another. Praising God means knowing that even in the solitude, God is still present, even in the strife, God is still present, even in the stillness and loneliness of some of the darkest times of our lives. God is still present, loving us, inviting us to love God in return, to praise God, to recognize that God does not leave us. Jesus doesn’t abandon us. We are never left behind, not by a God who created all things, made all things out of love.
Jesus says, do not let your hearts be troubled. Because Jesus might be going away, but that is out of love. Even in the hardest parts of our lives, praise doesn’t have to be big and bold, loud and boisterous, high energy and exciting. It can also simply be love for one another, for one oneself, for creation, for God. Simple. Quiet. Calm. Still. It all still counts as praise. Let us praise God. Amen.