A Divine Upgrade (Reflections on Easter 6, Year C)

My wife just bought a new laptop computer, and the extremely pleasant young person at the Apple store showed us how to turn it on and log on and do some of the nifty stuff a new computer does these days. When we got home, my bride found she was having trouble logging on to the internet. Now, I’m pretty much a Luddite. It’s a miracle I can even figure out how to turn on a light switch let alone use a computer, but—beaming with technological pride—I was able to show her what I remembered the nice young man in the store had demonstrated. A few mouse clicks and yabbadabbadoo! My mate was surfing the net like Bethany Hamilton at Waikiki.

Of course, there’s still lots of stuff I don’t know how to do on a computer (I don’t even know what a spreadsheet is, and I certainly wouldn’t know how to create one!), and I’m a bit embarrassed to possess a machine that’s smarter than I am. I’m really grateful for those tech support phone numbers and for my daughter who works in IT and the teenage girl in my parish who spiffs up my computer every time it starts to go slow. It’s good to have smart, tech-savvy people around to troubleshoot.

What would be even better would be me getting my act together and learning how to use the machine myself. Have you ever heard the saying, “The learning doesn’t start until the lesson is over?” If the teacher is always around to help and correct, we have no reason to learn on our own, to develop our skills, or to grow as human beings. It’s only after the teacher has gone that we really come into our own.

That’s a lesson I take away from the Gospel lesson in the Revised Common Lectionary appointed for Easter 6 (John 14:23-29). Jesus knows he’s not going to be around much longer (in the flesh, anyway), and he tries to let the disciples know that this is actually a good thing. Something wonderful is going to happen as a result of his absence. These poor slobs are going to transition from being disciples (students of Jesus) to being apostles (ambassadors for Jesus). They won’t require the physical presence of Christ any longer because they will continue in his Word, and in this divine Word he will always be with them.

Yes, it is true that a loss is painful. Every change, every bend in our life’s river means the loss of something which once was. It’s natural for these boys to fear being without their rabbi. But Jesus tells them not to fear but to rejoice. This is all in the Father’s hands (vv. 27-28). Sometimes we in the church panic when a beloved pastor or other key leader leaves or retires, but these transformative events set the stage for us to grow in new directions while we build on the past. Think of the losses in your life—changes and transitions which may have seemed hard to bear at the time but have led you to where you are now. Pretty cool, huh?

But what’s really cool about this passage is the promise that we will never really be without Jesus. Think about it: are you ever really without someone who has inspired or taught or loved you? My dad’s been deceased for over a quarter of a century, but when I hear one of his favorite hymns in worship I hear him singing just as if he were standing beside me. And Jesus is just like that.

If I can’t figure out how to download the software for my new printer, I can make a toll-free call and a nice tech support person will talk me through the problem. When my heart is lonely and confused, no call is necessary. My support has already made his home with me.

Blessings, my friends!