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“The Advocate of Love”

The Reverend Canon Beth Knowlton
April 27, 2008, Easter 6
Mikell Chapel, 7:45 & 9:00
John 14:15-21

It has been a hard week for me as I have grieved the loss of my colleague, Bill Payton.  Despite the sadness, I mainly feel profoundly grateful for the way in which he mentored me since I came to the Cathedral two years ago.  We had many common interests, most obviously our commitment to contemplative spirituality.  I am grateful for our conversations and his advice to me, but most of all I am grateful for the way in which he chose to depart from us. 

He was remarkably open in the way he chose to share the journey of his illness with us.  And it allowed him to bid us farewell in a particularly poignant and intentional way.  He was preparing us for the reality of his absence in a way few people are able to accomplish.

I am particularly grateful for our last time together.  It was a beautiful day and I arrived at the house to make sure things were in order for his funeral service.  He had been open about wanting it just so.  He had said to me at one point, “it will have it excesses.”  We priests are like that.  We love liturgy and so we want to make sure it is done just right, and according to our preferences.  In some ways it was the most ordinary of days.  I stopped by the house.  Joan was hooking one of her beautiful rugs and Bill was downstairs, working on of all things, the taxes.

When he came upstairs, I assumed we’d get down to business.  But instead, he suggested we go out for a walk.  It was short but I remember the way he looked at the flowers and the beauty of the day, turning his face towards the sun.  After we came back to the house we went over a few details and had a rich conversation.  As I departed, he extended his arms to me for a farewell hug.  I remember being so grateful for that.  I had gotten so used to not hugging or touching him during his illness, I would not have thought of it.  I was not sure if it would be the last time I saw him, but I knew it might be.

“If you love me you will keep my commandments.  And I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.  This is the spirit of truth….”

These words from Jesus’ farewell discourse to his disciples seem particularly relevant when the loss of a colleague is so present in my mind.  Jesus was trying to prepare his disciples for that which they were not yet ready to accept.  A death they would not have expected or chosen for him.  You can feel the weight of the words he spoke, hoping they would remember later. 

I wonder if they heard the phrase as advice.  The way you can prove you love me is by doing what I taught you to do.  This is true, but it also sounds more like a farewell speech to a college freshman, than loving words of departure.  No, our ability to keep the commandments seems much more a function of the next sentence.  While Jesus will be gone, he will continue to intercede for us and send us help in the form of the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, the Advocate.

I think we often think of the Holy Spirit as a tangible presence of God in our life.  It may manifest itself as a flash of insight, an unexpected revelation, or the ability to remain faithful in difficult circumstances.  I rarely think of the Holy Spirit as an Advocate.  The meaning in the legal sense is someone to speak on our behalf over and against the world’s notion of right and wrong.  It also includes God’s speaking on behalf of those who don’t have a voice. These are the times when we a Christians find ourselves needing to speak for the least fortunate and forgotten members of our society. 

It is a force outside of ourselves that we will be able to recognize as truth.  It is also an invitation for how to live faithfully.  We may not be able to see Jesus in the enfleshed and tangible way of life before resurrection, but mysteriously that loss can mean he will be available in new and more permanent ways.

That is what allows us to emerge as loving and faithful people.  We will keep the commandments of Jesus, but we are not meant to do that solely on the strength of our own conviction, but also through openness to the nudges that we have access to every day.

As I approached the Cathedral recently, I saw a man who appeared homeless outside the main entrance.  I would love to say that I immediately felt filled with Christian charity and patience.  Alas, I was in a hurry and worried about how I was going to “manage” the situation.  It is always hard to confront those in need and make the difficult decisions about who we can help and who we need to refer to other resources.  There is also a certain amount of skepticism that can emerge in our soul as we hear too many similar stories, or fret about being taken advantage of. 

In this case, a man named Charles approached me and asked whether or not I worked here.  I said yes and he immediately started fumbling in his pockets.  He had just gotten hired for a job that started on Monday after nine months of unemployment and several years of living on the street.  He showed me the business card of the manager who had hired him and his Georgia identification card.  I felt like he was trying to prove his case to me and somehow I was being place in the role of judge.  I readied myself for him to ask for money and I started thinking through my response.  How we are not able to give cash, but there were some places I could refer him too.

Instead he removed his right shoe.  He said he was having a lot of pain in his foot and wanted to get some medicine so he’d be ready for work on Monday.  He said “I don’t want to be a bum.”  “I’m just not sure where to turn and what to do.  I looked down and saw that he was missing three toes.  Any thoughts of my assessing the worthiness of his claim or story suddenly seemed ridiculous.  He was not asking for money, but hydrogen peroxide and some gauze pads.  So, I violated every policy we have and told him to wait for me while I ran to Walgreens and picked up what he needed.

Now, I am not sharing this story to show you what a good person I am.  In fact I hesitated to even use it today.  But rather than focusing on my ultimate action, I’d rather you notice how I felt initially.  When it was just me, in a hurry, there was not any sense that I needed to see this man as different.  What I am here to tell you is that at some point I felt that the need and voice of Charles was carried through to my heart by an Advocate.  The Holy Spirit.  And it was that intercession that allowed me to be loving.

We all have these opportunities every day.  It may be an invitation to an act of compassion or it may be allowing the beauty of the world to stop us in our tracks.  Whatever the instance, it requires that we remember that God is still working within and around us all the time.  Like the disciples, we may struggle to see it in the ways we expected it to come and be bereft when it doesn’t work out the way we hoped.  If we are grieving a loss, it can be hard to remember the many ways in which the person will continue to be present with us.  But the good news is that the scripture reminds us that Easter resurrection happens every day.  We can listen deeply to the promises of Jesus that assure us of his love and the love of God the Father.  We are not left as orphans, but beloved children of God. 

Amen

Comments? Contact Beth Knowlton at: BKnowlton@stphilipscathedral.org

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