Never Orphaned (Reflections on Easter 6)



The music director at Faith Lutheran in Philadelphia is a guy named Frank, and he has a penchant for old-time gospel hymns. That's okay by me, as I kind of like those old 4/4 time, “gonna-go-to-heaven-and-be-with-Jesus” type songs myself. They remind me of my dad, who had a rich repertoire of such holy chestnuts and would sing them constantly around the house in which I grew up.

I guess a Sunday morning doesn't go by in which one of those old songs doesn't remind me of my dad. As I stand in the chancel during the early mass, I still hear the Old Man crooning in his tenor voice—even though he passed away almost a quarter of a century ago. The hymns of his childhood were a source of comfort to him when he was out of work and struggled doing odd jobs trying to provide for his family. When I sing the songs, Dad is with me, and I am reminded of his faith in God and his love of worship. In a sense, my father is still living—or abiding—with me.

Other things remind me of him, too. For instance, my dad always wore a clean dress shirt and a tie to work, even though his work as an aerospace engineering inspector called him to visit dirty, greasy machine shops all day. His insistence on sartorial perfection was not mere vanity. It was pride in his work. “When I go to work,” he used to tell me, “I represent my company.” And he always looked sharp! Subsequently, I always try to make my parishioners proud of me by appearing as respectfully attired as I can.

My dad was also a veteran. He won two Purple Hearts and the Bronze Star in World War II, and so I make a point of thanking vets for their service and volunteering as a chaplain at the Delaware Valley Veteran's Home.

If you ever went out to eat with my dad—and he loved to go out to eat—you'd notice how polite he could be to waiters and waitresses. In a way, he was the Patron Saint of Diner Waitresses. He knew which girls at his favorite coffee shop were in college, who was expecting a baby, or engaged to be married, and he even played Santa Clause at one restaurant's employee Christmas party. He always taught me that people who were in service did hard jobs and had to deal with jerks all day. He admonished me to be polite, friendly, agreeable, and to leave a good tip. I never forgot that.

There's a saying that the learning only starts once the lesson is over. I may not have my dad with me physically to share his ethos, but I have his love and his teaching and his example. It's up to me to make his legacy useful and fruitful in my life.

Next Thursday is the Feast of the Ascension. In our liturgical narrative, Jesus has been appearing to the disciples for forty days—more than enough time for them to get the idea that he's conquered death and promised life eternal. Now it's up to these guys to decide what they're going to do with this knowledge. It's time for them to go from being disciples—followers of Jesus, to being apostles—ambassadors for Jesus. In the gospel pericope for Easter 6, Jesus tells them,

“I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. (John 14:18-20)”

Even though Jesus is not physically present, he is still part of us just as are our departed loved ones and their memories, lessons, and love. This is the work of the Third Person of the Trinity, the promised Advocate, the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is God in us. Not just the God of creation, but the God of salvation—Jesus Christ living, abiding within us in his words and example.

The Resurrection of Jesus certainly gives us peace and joy in that it is the promise of freedom from eternal death. But if we're freed from death, what are we freed for? In the Ascension promise, Christ becomes part of us, and we take up his mission to bring peace, healing, forgiveness, and justice to the world. Because the physical Jesus has gone to the Father, we now are filled with the spirit which allows us to see Christ in others and be Christ to others. Truly, Jesus is never gone. He is unseen, but always present.

Thanks for reading. Feel free to leave a comment and let me know if this jogs your thinking any. Also, if there's something you'd like me to write about, I'd love to share it with you!

P.S.-Since we're all one in Jesus, why don't we share this one-ness at the Lord's Table? No. Seriously. I doubt that the Pope will convene a council and suddenly invite Lutherans into full communion. BUT if we keep asking, we might move a little closer to the unity Christ had in mind for us. It can't hurt to ask, so please take a minute and sign my petition here.