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Jesus teaches Nicodemus that “unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” The word for “again” is perhaps better translated “from above,” although Nicodemus’ comments about going into his mother’s womb a “second time” seem to undermine the “from above” case and argue for an “again.” If you’re born “from above,” why would one’s mother’s womb be relevant. But if you’re born “again,” the comment makes sense.

Nicodemus’ words are unfortunate, insofar as they compel the “born again” interpretation, because the idea of being “born from above” is so loaded with good stuff. Well, we can get to the “born from above” interpretation despite Nicodemus, and here’s how.

Anothen, the Greek word for “from above,” or “anew,” or “from the first,” or possibly “again,” obviously has a broad enough meaning that when Nicodemus heard the word, he heard its meaning as “again” rather than what Jesus meant it as, “from above.” We have in English words with a wide variety of meanings. Think of the old kid’s joke, “I love hot dogs.” Response: “You mean you want to marry it?” Nicodemus is like the child making that joke with his, “What? Can a man enter his mother’s womb a second time?”

But if we look at Jesus’ teachings about being “born from above” against other Scripture on “birth from above,” a consistent pattern emerges on what’s going on. Of course, to be born from above is also to be born again, but the “being born again” is sort of an obvious incidental, as in. If you’re born from above after being born the first time, of course you’re born “again.”

Let’s look at those other Scriptures and the picture they paint.

(1) First, here are several passages that substantiate the “from above” interpretation:

“[B]ut the Jerusalem above is free, which is the mother of us all…. Now we, brethren, as Isaac was, are children of promise. But, as he who was born according to the flesh then persecuted him who was born according to the Spirit, even so it is now.”

“But as many as received Him, to them He gave the right to become children of God, to those who believe in His name: who were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.”

In addition to these two passages, six verse from St. John’s letters use the expression “born of God.

These passages recall what we’ve been meditating on these past weeks, that the Holy Spirit’s work is to take what belongs to Jesus – His restoration at God’s right hand – and deliver it to us by declaration. He takes what’s above and makes it an existential reality below. The vision He gives us is the “first light” of a new birth that drives away the dark veil over our hearts inherited from this world’s fallen condition.

(2) Now, let’s look at how one is born from above, or from God:

“ [U]nless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.”

“A woman, when she is in labor, has sorrow because her hour has come; but as soon as she has given birth to the child, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.”

“…having been born again, not of corruptible seed but incorruptible, through the word of God which lives and abides forever…”

Jesus’ reference to the woman in labor is interesting. He describes His crucifixion as like being a woman in labor, and it’s something the disciples were sharing in, for they were the ones sorrowing. Indeed, it’s something the whole creation shares in, as St. Paul tells it: “For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now.” In this vein St. Paul jumps back to our theme, albeit with a slightly adjusted metaphor, when he writes, “even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our body.”

The reference to creation is a bit of a pivot point, because as we look at the creation and how it came about, we see it emerged from the “deep” where the Holy Spirit hovered over the face of the “waters.” Well, the fall of creation – as typified by the flood – returns everything to that deep abyss. So it makes sense the Holy Spirit would draw out a “second time” from above a new creation, out of the water. And even as we are the “firstfruits” of the new creation, so do we herald the eventual restoration of the whole creation. Again from St. Paul, “[The creation] eagerly waits for the revealing of the sons of God.”

Which brings us back to Jesus’ labor pains on the cross, when He gave birth to the new creation, when water and blood and spirit exited His body and became the materials from which the new creation would be made. St. John references these three items in his lengthy discussion on being “born of God” in I John 5. Coupled with Jesus’ statement in John 3, about being born from above by water and the Spirit, and also coupled with St. Paul’s teaching on being baptized into Christ’s death, that is, in His blood, quite clearly our new birth begins in the water, at baptism, with the words “in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” And Christ’s forgiving blood flows with that water.

It’s where the Holy Spirit, hovering over the waters, begins to draw out the new creation.

But the Word is also part of this, even as the Word was worked into the face of the waters to bring about the first creation. What is that Word? It’s the Word by which the Holy Spirit gives to us by declaration what’s going on in heaven: “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” The Son in restored fellowship with the Father, communicated by the Holy Spirit, causing us to become children of God, crying out “Abba Father” by the Spirit through Christ. As if we’re right there at God’s right hand!

Well of course. God has one Son, begotten from eternity. By our adoption, our being born from above, we are the body of the one Son, Jesus Christ.

(3) Finally, what does the birth from above mean for our lives?

“For whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world – our faith.”

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.”

“We know that whoever is born of God does not sin; but he who has been born of God keeps himself, and the wicked one does not touch him.”

“Whoever has been born of God does not sin, for His seed remains in him; and he cannot sin, because he has been born of God.”

“Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God.”

“If you know that He is righteous, you know that everyone who practices righteousness is born of Him.”

“My little children, for whom I labor in birth again until Christ is formed in you.”

Clearly, love is a central theme, especially from John’s writings. But several clues in these texts teach our being born again as foundational for a life of growth into that perfect love.

There’s the expression “practicing righteousness,” that is, something we have to strive for, or to use a sports metaphor, “suit up” for. For who “practices” but he who is performing something that doesn’t come naturally. Being born from above is no guarantee of immediate holiness or perfection.

There’s the reference to the seed in us. The reference is reproductive. If the Father sires us with His seed, which is the Word of God, that seed must grow. When we’re born from above, we begin as babes.

There’s St. Paul’s reference to “laboring in birth until Christ is formed in you.” Here’s basis for the “now, but not yet” formulation we frequently see when describing Christian teaching vis a vis the eschaton. It’s why St. Paul could write Corinth and first describe them as saints, and then precede to take them to task for tolerating incest. Yes, quite a labor in birth for St. Paul!

A final comment from the texts above is from the first text cited, about the “Jerusalem which is from above.” St. Paul writes, “[B]ut the Jerusalem above is free, which is the mother of us all….”

Not only could we have some fun supporting the case for “replacement theology,” that is, the idea that the Church is the new Israel, but we can also rejoice in one final blessing of being born “from above.” It’s what St. Paul writes in the above context, “Stand fast therefore in the liberty by which Christ has made us free, and do not be entangled again with a yoke of bondage. Indeed I, Paul, say to you that if you become circumcised, Christ will profit you nothing. And I testify again to every man who becomes circumcised that he is a debtor to keep the whole law. You have become estranged from Christ, you who attempt to be justified by law; you have fallen from grace.”

Fallen indeed, fallen from those great heights of God’s grace, from above, from that position at God’s right hand, where we are lifted up by the Holy Spirit’s words of declaration, and seated with Christ. As St. Paul writes, “God, who is rich in mercy, because of His great love with which He loved us, …made us alive together with Christ (by grace you have been saved), and raised us up together, and made us sit together in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.”

Trinity Sunday culminates a lot of what has been revealed the past several weeks in the Gospel of John. Last week Jesus said of those who love Him, “We will come to him and make Our home with him.” Add to this comment what St. Paul says, that we are a temple of the Holy Spirit, and you have all three making us their home.

But it’s not so much they’re floating down here and making a home in us in some psychological sense triggering our internal faculties. As the Athanasian Creed puts it, the divinity is united to the humanity in Christ “not by conversion of the divinity into the flesh, but by the assumption of the humanity into God.” Christ is at the right hand of the Father. The Father is in the heavens, whom no one has ascended to witness but He who descended (Jesus).

The Holy Spirit bears witness to what Jesus did when He returned to the Father and sat down, restoring the fellowship with the Father that Adam had lost. This is communicated to us by the word, by declaration, by the apostolic testimony, and to abide in this word is to abide in Christ. The word fills our faith with a vision of “the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, …an innumerable company of angels, …the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are registered in heaven, …God the Judge of all, to the spirits of just men made perfect, …Jesus the Mediator of the new testament, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaks better things than that of Abel.”

However, it is true, “we see in a mirror, dimly,…[and we know] in part.” Not until His return will we see clearly, and know Him fully. That’s St. Paul. St. John puts it this way, “it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is.”

Notice in both passages this sense of “being revealed, or shown in a mirror” who we truly are, which is a reflection of what Jesus is in His heavenly glory. This side of heaven that vision is dimly seen. But faith is filled with it and has a hope beyond all human understanding.

The process begins at Baptism, where we are baptized “in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Here, the Trinity begins to make its home in us. Here, the Lord finds the material He needs to build His new creation (or fully finish the original one, by another interpretation), for the Lord by the Holy Spirit has from the beginning been hovering over the waters ready to draw out creatures by giving them life. Like the Lord seeking out the throng of sinners in the Jordan to begin His ministry, our Lord goes where the water is to find His materials. For He so loves the world.

And there, in the water, people born under the curse of death are born from above, born from above so as to “see” the kingdom of God, to witness it, to reflect the witness of those who came from above, Jesus, the Father, and the Spirit.

The Spirit does it. He delivers it. He by declaration of the words, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” applies names to the new living beings, just as He has been doing from the beginning, “Let there be light…and the light He called day.” The Word and Name of God (Yehi/Yahweh) creating…the creature bearing witness to that new creation in what it is called. Named in the Holy Trinity…confessing the Holy Trinity. It’s all the same.

The first creation came about by water and the spirit. Adam first came about when dust was moistened by the mist rising up and God breathed in the spirit. Life happens by water and the spirit. And so that happens in baptism.

All creation reflects and responds to this glory, even the babes and nursing infants, in whom God is perfecting His praise and ordaining His strength. They might see quite dimly – we’re all growing and at different levels of dimness – or maybe they see in a profound way we can’t comprehend, or forget, but if the animals, stones, and babies have a way of worshiping the Lord and glorifying Him, faith must be something profound that transcends what our internal, psychological faculties do.

Of course its profound and transcends our minds. It’s the mystery of the Holy Trinity. Mysterious, but yet so intimately, palpably, imminent.

“I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming, and he has nothing in Me. But that the world may know that I love the Father, and as the Father gave Me commandment, so I do. Arise, let us go from here.”

Jesus has an interesting phraseology in this passage. “[The devil] has nothing in Me.” This is significant in helping us discern the difference between Jesus’ use of “ruler” in the Gospel of John, and the Gnostics’ use of it in their theology.

The Greek term is “archon.” That is the word translated as “ruler,” and it is also what rules the world in Gnosticism. Here is their general teaching on the archons. By whichever Gnostic creation myth you take – and there are several – there emerges in the cosmic story a lesser deity who creates the material world. He is Yaltabaoth, or the Demiurge. After he creates the world, he creates 365 archons who help him rule the world.

The number 365 clues us into what’s going on here. The things that arise from time and space – that is, a physical universe – are under the rulership of the lesser, evil deity. And all the things that mark the physical universe, with all its structures, systems, and laws, are how the archons rule. Let’s look at a few examples.

The obvious example is the gender binary. If, as the Gnostics believed, we are sparks of divinity – what the modern world calls “the Self” – trapped inside our physical bodies, then there can indeed be the claim that my “Self” has a gender designation that has nothing to do with what the gender binary – rooted in our bodies and DNA – tell us.

Or, there’s marriage. Conservatives make the argument that thousands of years of cultural tradition, every major religious tradition, common sense, and even biological science establish that there is a reproductive system involving a man and a woman through which new people come into the world. Marriage arose from this reality. But when conservatives make that argument, their opponents only see the archons at work, the rulers of this world order trying to keep intact their structures of power and exclusion, so as to keep the Self from awaking and being liberated.

There are so many holes in this way of thinking it hardly bears a response. Ultimately, everything material would then be “trapped” in the structures and systems of thought undergirding it. Who says to eat an apple binds you to using your mouth on a juicy red fruit that, um, looks and tastes like an apple? Well, now we can begin to understand why the Sufis, the Islamic Gnostics, thought this question was so clever: “Why is the sound of an onion?” The whole purpose is to deconstruct everything.

In any event, the bigger point is, the Gnostic archons ruled the material world, the external world. By contrast, Jesus suggests Satan’s rule of the world is the opposite. The focal point is not “out there” but “in Me.” Now perhaps you can see the sense Jesus says, “He has nothing in me.” By way of suggestion, what He’s also saying is, “The ruler of the world rules the internal faculties of humanity; that is his reign; that is where he exhibits is power. But he has nothing in me.”

We could also extrapolate more. The devil’s reign is within the psychological faculties of humanity – in his will, his mind, his soul, his emotions – all areas beyond the material substances of humanity. (Interesting that Gnosticism would seek its reality and god outside the material world; this is the only area Satan can “claim” (scare marks because the territory the devil claims is nothingness and chaos), for the rest belongs to God.)

Recall, God had declared everything He had created very good. And St. Paul affirms this truth when he writes, “For every creature of God is good, and nothing is to be refused if it is received with thanksgiving; for it is sanctified by the word of God and prayer.” Notice, use of the word “eucharistia” (thanksgiving) implies something we’ve been dealing with these past weeks, that the Sacrament transforms our vision of the whole world, so that we see the goodness of the Lord, as Christ fills all in all, and so that we can be thankful for every creature.

That’s Christ’s domain, the creation, all things in heaven and on earth. The realm of nothingness – the realm of human will, the choosing toward evil that Adam did – is where Satan is the ruler of this world. Because everyone sins, his rule continues… is something we would say prior to the Holy Spirit’s advent, when He comes and explains new understandings of sin and Satan: sin is not believing in Jesus; Satan is judged and cast our of heaven so his rule ends. Well, then again, St. John says if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves. Perhaps the best way to look at it is to take it out of chronology. It’s not as if the Holy Spirit comes, casts Satan out, and now Satan no longer rules over us.

Rather, like Jesus seeing Satan falling like lightning with the preaching of the Word, that’s how it happens. When the Holy Spirit delivers by apostolic proclamation what He witnesses at God’s right hand, the restoration of humanity, and this is administered to individuals in time and space, Satan indeed is cast out of heaven, sin is rendered moot, and righteousness is the One sitting at the right hand of the Father, the very one who makes His home in us by the Holy Spirit’s work. But that reality, though eternal, must be administered in time and space, as the anchor of our faith. Still, we live in a “not yet” world where Satan still reigns, clearly, in human will and choosing.

But Christ is the One person in whom this is not the case. Christ is the one physical thing in all creation that is not under the devil’s reign. The devil has nothing in Him. As He takes this reality up into fellowship with the Father, He sends the Holy Spirit to deliver this reality to us by declaration, and the words can be true that St. John writes, “For whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world – our faith.” Or again, “And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony.”

It is the blood of the Lamb, received in thanksgiving through earthly elements, that testifies to the goodness of all creation, the restoration of all creation in Christ, and gives us a renewed vision of all things, by the Holy Spirit. It’s almost as if in the Sacrament – only when it’s understood as truly Christ’s body and blood – the statement rings out: “You may have control of this fallen world, Satan, as you work your nihilistic program and try to return everything to chaos by controlling the will of humanity, but here is one area of creation you don’t own, where Christ is present. And you have nothing in Him. And as people commune in that, they too become part of the creation you don’t own. And their faith is infused with a vision, a revelation by the Holy Spirit, of the whole creation that you don’t own, for which they are thankful and see God’s goodness. And this faith overcomes you.

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.

There is a peace that passes all human understanding. There is a peace completely “other” than what the world gives. This is the peace sought by the world, the sort referenced by St. Paul when he wrote, “While people are saying, ‘There is peace and security,’ then sudden destruction will come upon them as labor pains come upon a pregnant woman, and they will not escape.”

Yes, the world gives peace. One could argue the entire modernist project is premised on Thomas Hobbes’ observation that the history of man is the story of a species seeking to attain the absence of pain and suffering in this world. That’s the world’s peace, the absence of pain, the absence of conflict. Or more deeply, the absence of confronting that existential abyss that terrified the likes of Nietzsche, a peace some reference when they talk of “peace of mind.” This is the peace of darkness. To use another John reference, it’s a peace that blocks out the light, which exposes our sins and our true need for a Savior. It’s a peace that the citizens of Jerusalem had up until that point in Peter’s Pentecostal sermon, when they were “cut to the heart.”

Being cut to the heart, being exposed to the sword of the spirit, letting the light shine in the dark places, are not peaceful. Neither is taking up your cross, being severed from family, putting to death the flesh, and wrestling with God (the meaning of the word “Israel”). And this is the sort of peace Jesus does not give.

And He certainly doesn’t promise the sort of peace propagated by the “peace movement,” whose symbol (whether purposely or inadvertently I don’t know) looks a lot like an upside down broken cross. Yes, like Satan’s symbol. It’s a symbol that ultimately destroys the cross, the ultimate non-peaceful event. It’s a symbol which can only make sense by allowing tyranny and evil to triumph. Of course Satan wants that sort of peace.

And notice worldly peace is expressed in terms of grace. “Not as the world gives.” This is Babel’s grace, the false promise of humanism that always seems just out of reach, but ever promised

Jesus does give the peace that passes all human understanding. It’s a peace that comes from the work of the Holy Spirit. The peace Jesus gave out when He said, “‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you.’ And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you withhold forgiveness from any, it is withheld.’”

This is the peace communicated to us by the Holy Spirit, Who delivers to us by declaration what He witnesses in heaven, the fellowship and restoration of humanity at God’s right hand, a witness conveyed to us by the apostolic witness in their proclamation of absolution.

This is the peace that infuses our faith with the “vision” promised in the Joel prophecy, to see a world full of the “goodness of the Lord” where the rest of the world sees conflict and chaos. This is the peace held by the martyrs as they faced the lion and steely sword, singing hymns. It’s a peace that passes all human understanding. It’s the reason we don’t mourn as those who have no hope.

That’s peace. And it’s a gift of Christ’s grace through the Holy Spirit.

He will teach you all things, and bring to your remembrance all things that I said to you.

Here again we get a statement about the Holy Spirit that runs counter to how people understand “spirituality” today. To be sure, most “spiritual traditions” have their teachings and teachers, but at least in the Gnostic or mystical traditions – which are those traditions most identified with spirituality – the purpose of the teacher is to bring something out of a student that he already has deep inside. It’s to awaken the divine spark within. It’s teacher as guru.

The way the Holy Spirit teaches is completely different. His job is to bring to remembrance what Jesus said, and thereby “teach all things.” This speaks to what we meditated upon in our last meditation, that Jesus’ word is the highest philosophy, the revelation of the meaning of it all. “He will teach you all things.” All things! And what does the Holy Spirit teach? What Jesus said, this He will bring back to remembrance.

What Jesus said is laid down in the Gospels. In that sense, Jesus is promising the inspiration of the Gospels here. And yes, these are words that are taught. They are taught to three year olds and to ninety-three year olds, and in both cases, both are engaged in the highest form of spirituality.

From the moment a child is born he is immersed in a world of words, and these words arise from a world of formal beings and formal activities, nouns and verbs. Each word carves out of the chaos of unknowing an ordered territory of new familiarity. And with each new word, phrase, sentence, paragraph, chapter, and book comes new descriptors of his external world. He is learning.

The Holy Spirit begot these words, at least the good ones. For He is the first one to carve out of the chaos new ordered territories: light, darkness, land sea, up, down, birds, fishes, animals, humanity. He named what He carved out and invited Adam to share in that divine task, thus bestowing to Adam the gift of language.

Of course, there are bad words too. Babel words. Self-induced words. Projections of human desire words. Idols. These work against the Holy Spirit’s words.

In the new creation, the Holy Spirit – who we learn this week “fills the whole earth” – applies new words, from the New Adam, Who speaks only God words, Jesus Christ. And these words do the same thing in the chaotic humanity which we became and into which we are born. They carve out the new man, transforming it into the image of Christ.

This, after all, is the Holy Spirit who teaches a word of God that “is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart.”

This is the task of teaching. To give us external words – not induce internal non-words – that carve, mold, and shape our internal persons, usually putting to death the internal stuff and creating from the mud and water new living tissue. The old tissue hated enemies, fought them, hurt them; the new tissue feeds them, prays for them, and brings life. That’s quite a new creation!

Throughout the Gospel, the idea emerges that the Holy Spirit is not some mystical force moving mysteriously about causing shivers to go up and down people’s spines, but identified by the vocalized words of teaching – specifically the teaching of apostolic ministers. “Go therefore and teach all nations.” “And they continued in the apostles’ teaching.”

This truth even marks our music, which due to Romanticism has come to mean a moment of emotionally-defined spirituality. On the contrary, from St. Paul: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing with grace in your hearts to the Lord.”

Teaching in psalms, hymns, and songs. The Holy Spirit is a teacher. And that teaching is defined as bringing to mind Jesus’ words, which are written in the Gospel. Teaching the Gospel, then, is the ultimate spiritual activity.

“And the word which you hear is not Mine but the Father’s who sent Me.”

Due to the “Law/Gospel” structure of the Bible, people have a tendency to get dualistic about divine history. “The Old Testament was when God was mean and judgmental, and obsessed with rituals and hierarchy; the New Testament was when God was all about love and mercy, and more spontaneous and democratic about rule in the church.” Or, they’ll say the Father is the wrathful, judgmental one, but Jesus is the kind, loving one who appeases the Father’s wrath.

Jesus’ words for meditation today refute both views. Whatever Jesus is, is because that is what the Father sent Him to be. Jesus is a picture of the Father’s heart. Jesus is God’s primary work.

If there is a dualism, the dualism is between God’s revealed Word in Christ Jesus, and God as He operates outside of the Word and Christ. What does this mean?

God is everywhere. God is in control of everything. But theology makes a distinction between God’s primary work and His alien work. His primary work is giving life and sustaining it. His “alien” work is to condemn. The world and Satan are instruments of God’s alien work. When people understand God outside of Christ and the Word, they will run up against God’s alien work. This is a terrifying place to be. It’s a place of judgment, wrath. This is the world understood as a an existential abyss. What’s the meaning of life? What’s the reason for suffering?

Those who find God through Christ and the Word will find God as He intended to be known, through Christ crucified, as a life-giving Spirit, as a loving Father. This transforms our vision of the so-called “alien” works of God. What we hear from the Word and receive by grace spills over in our spiritual “vision” of the whole creation.  All the world bears His goodness, and even the trials and dark valleys we see as God’s discipline leading to our ultimate good.

So really, the dualism is not in God, but in us. The dualism is between believers and unbelievers. Believers see the entire creation under God’s authority being worked for their good, by a good and merciful God. They see the world from the perspective of the divine liturgy and holy sacrament, their vision transformed by the true transformation that occurs in the bread and wine, those created elements.

Unbelievers see only an angry and vindictive God setting up systems and structures of power, or an arbitrary God who yes, is in that sunrise, but that same sun is scorching tribes to death elsewhere in the world. There is no answer to the problem of evil; therefore evil triumphs. These are the Gnostics who then have to resort to projecting a supramundane God from their own desires and relying on that.

Those who would seek the meaning of the world would go to none other than Christ. For He speaks not His own word, but the Father’s word. He speaks what the Creator of this world wants to be said about this world. No philosophy, no science, no experience can compare to the words of the Gospel. They are our philosophy. They are our science. They are our experience.

So often we can fall into the sectarian way of thinking, that Christianity is simply our “philosophy of life,” or that the event of the cross is our little event that defines what we believe. No, the cross marks the very essential meaning of the cosmos. Christ’s words, every one of them, is the philosophy that puts to end all others.

“Let the little children come to me” is a metaphysical truth far deeper than anything Aristotle came up with. “When you pray, say [the Lord’s Prayer]” is the ultimate statement of what humanity is reaching for in the depths of transcendent meaning. “Take up your cross and follow Me” is a life time’s worth of ethical training for how the human person should situate himself in this cosmic order.

On and on we could go. There is no need for human searching when divine truth is revealed through Christ’s words. For His words are not His own, but the Father’s, the world’s Maker.

Science is a fun tool to help make cool things, but other than refining the wheel, the alphabet, and fire, it doesn’t do much more, and cannot. Philosophy is wonderful at revealing the depths to which humanity will go to justify themselves, as Nietzsche smartly observed.

But only the Gospels unveil the meaning of it all, the point of life. Now, that being the case, consider what it means that, of all the ways God could have made known the ultimate meaning of the world and of life, He sent the Person Jesus, the one hanging on a cross, the one who healed everyone who cried “Lord, have mercy,” the one who freely gave.

 

If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word.

The word for “keep” is significant. At first glance the statement seems to say, “If you love me, you’ll obey what I say.” The problem with this is, we don’t always obey what Jesus says. Therefore some will conclude they must not truly love Jesus, and live perpetually in guilt. Do I love others enough? Do I love my enemies? Do I take up my cross properly every day?

But the word for “keep” is not “obey.” It’s more a sense of “to guard, treasure, or take note of.” Here’s a good sense of the meaning from Proverbs: “My son, keep my words, And treasure my commands within you.”

Before discussing what this means, let’s add another layer. Because, quite frankly, we have no idea what Jesus said but through the apostles. And to short circuit those who are ever seeking to peel off the layers of the apostolic witness, claiming this witness frames Jesus’ words in patriarchal, hierarchical, and dogmatic structures that Jesus Himself would never have approved of. So, according to those who think this way, the project is to get to what Jesus “really” said. Of course, those who embark upon this project somehow miraculously end up with highly progressive ideas. That’s because progressivism is a god in and of itself before which everything, including Jesus, must submit.

So, given that, let’s take note of these words from Jesus in the Gospel of John, “If they persecuted Me, they will also persecute you. If they kept My word, they will keep yours also.” There’s your apostolic foundation. To keep Jesus’ word is to keep the apostles’ word; there is no difference. Here, we might also note the implication that the apostolic witness is effectively no different than the work of the Holy Spirit.

So, what’s going on with “keeping” Christ’s word, that is, treasuring, guarding, and taking note of it. It speaks to the importance of right belief as opposed to right action. Notice the progression goes like this: Love Christ, love His word (love what the apostles teach). Loving Christ’s word begins with love of Christ, which is faith. Disobedience to Christ’s word is not evidence of lack of love, but evidence of the fact that we are still sinners this side of heaven who need Christ.

Of course right action is a fruit of loving Christ’s word. How could it not be so? But when we reverse the order we do damage to the text: Be obedient to Christ’s word, prove love of Christ.

Let’s use an example one of Jesus’ more famous words, “Love your enemies.” A Christian who loves Christ loves those words. He believes those words to be not just a suggestion or a good idea, but straight from God’s mouth. But does he obey them always? Of course not. Who does?
Hypocrites! the world says. But that’s because the world is in darkness and doesn’t understand Christ. They think He’s just a great teacher who began a school of thought, and not God in human flesh. They also don’t understand what a hypocrite is. A hypocrite is not someone who believes or says one thing, but does another – um, that’s all of us. A hypocrite is an actor, a pretender, someone who wears the mask of a Christian but doesn’t really believe what Jesus says.

Rather, Christ’s word leads us to perpetual repentance, perpetual turning to Christ, perpetual confessing of sins. We say “amen” to “love your enemies” each day, and strive to do so, but likely fall short, knowing that the one who said “forgive them for they know not what they do” has fulfilled this righteousness for us.

In other words, with every word of Christ, as we hold it dear to us, we hold Christ dear to us. Even the hard words, the ones we struggle with. Perhaps especially those words! Who doesn’t hold Christ more dearly, the more dearly he knows he falls short of “do not worry”? That one is far more faithful to “do not worry,” “do not lust,” “do not hate,” “do not covet,” and all Jesus words, than the one who doesn’t worry, lust, hate, or covet, but who picks and chooses what he wants from Jesus’ word as nice wallpaper to his healthy and well life style. “Jesus was all about love, tolerance, and acceptance, and that’s a philosophy of I hold to.”

Also, note that Jesus says, “He will keep my word.” That is, the one who loves Jesus will – will – keep His word (and the apostles’ word). It’s not “must” or “should,” but “will.” It naturally flows. The one who loves Jesus doesn’t come with pre-conceived ideologies to run his understanding of Christ’s word, but lets the word do what it will do. He strives for understanding. He strives to hear His Shepherd and follow Him. He is easily corrected by Christ’s word when in error. He delights in it.

He does this because He loves Jesus. Not a projection of Jesus rooted in his own desires, but the Jesus who stands outside, external, and separate from him, defined and outlined by objective words. Alas, how often does that happen – the Gnostic demon again – where because there are fuzzy lines where God’s Word ends and our desires begin, we confuse the two? How often do people “hear God’s voice” and then interpret Jesus’ words accordingly? And the Jesus they love is really a projection of their own desires.

Liturgically, this is why the reading of the Word of God is such a defined, dignified moment in the service. “The Holy Gospel according to St. John…Here endeth the Gospel.” There’s no doubt. There’s no fuzzy engagement with it as the preacher embellishes it or someone adds his personal testimony about it. It is truly “treasured.” We stand during it. We revere it. It sets the foundation for good “keeping” of the Word of God. And then the preacher unpacks what it means and calls for repentance toward it.

If there is a warning in this passage, it is for those who do not want to hear Christ’s word, who
pick and choose what they want to hear according to their personal views. They don’t love Christ. They love themselves.

But the one who loves Jesus – Jesus as He is fully given in His Word and no where else! – will love that very Word that delivers Him.

“If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him.”

On Pentecost, the first prophecy Peter quoted was from Joel, and in it we heard these words: “Your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.”

These words can be somewhat troubling, and seem to support the charismatic interpretation of Christianity. That is, there seems to be support for the idea that when someone is filled with the Holy Spirit, the sign of receiving Him is a cocktail of supernatural occurrences, like speaking in tongues, or seeing visions, or having special dreams from God, or predicting the future.

But the Scriptural evidence doesn’t support this interpretation.

First, Peter quoted this passage to explain the supernatural occurrence that happened on Pentecost, which was the apostles speaking “the wonderful works of God” in the languages of the visitors to Jerusalem. And when Peter preached, we saw an example of what preaching the “wonderful works of God” looked like. We reviewed this yesterday. It looks like an Old Testament reading, Psalms, the Creed, and preaching repentance unto baptism; followed by catechesis in apostolic doctrine, Holy Communion, and the prayers.

Well, that sounds like the boring old liturgy! Hardly the thrill of all sorts of supernatural spiritual gifts.

Second, the manner with which Peter’s sermon panned out in lieu of “Your sons and daughters shall prophecy” parallels how St. John defined prophecy: “[The] testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.” That is exactly what Peter did as He was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied: he embraced a pattern of words and actions very similar to liturgical worship centered on Jesus Christ.

Third, and this deals with the “see visions and dream dreams” bit, but we need to recall the work of the Holy Spirit. This also intersects with today’s passage for meditation, that Jesus and the Father will come and make their home with us. What is the Holy Spirit’s task? To take what belongs to Jesus and give it to us by way of declaration. It’s to bear witness to heavenly things and communicate them through earthly witnesses.

Unwittingly in the past several weeks I’ve used a phrase I’ve been a bit nervous about, referring to the Holy Spirit’s work as filling our faith with a palpable vision, or how the Eucharist changes our vision. I’ve been nervous about the word “vision” because of its charismatic and New Agey implications.

I no longer should feel nervous about that. “Your young men will see visions.” Of course they will! What, after all, is the work of the Holy Spirit again? To create a new creation in us rooted in the right hand of the Father. How can that not change our vision? Is it not a vision when we see the host and cup, and witness the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world? Is it not a vision when we see a baptismal font, and witness a crystalline river of life flowing from the throne of God? It it not a vision when we see a world with all its hardship and evils, and witness Jesus’ authority over all things leading everything to good?

That is what the vision that is the book of Revelation is. And it’s something each of us has as well. We don’t go to church to eat bad bread, bad wine, hang out with at times bad people, and listen to bad speeches. We go there because our vision is filled with what the Holy Spirit infuses into these earthly forms, Christ’s body and blood, saints, and God’s Word.

Heretics throughout the history of the Church have used the “prophecies, visions, and dreams” promise of Pentecost to justify all sorts of nonsense. It justified the allegorical approach of the Alexandrians and Gnostics; it justified the various charismatic movements, like Montanism and its modern incarnations; it justifies modern church growth gurus who love their “vision” statements, who use “visioning” in a more corporatist sense.

All this visioning is rooted in me coming up with some idea independent of the Holy Spirit’s work. And what is the Holy Spirit’s work? To bear witness to the heavenly reality of Jesus sitting at God’s right hand – and all this implies for us – and communicate this to us by way of declaration, that is, by His Word. Not to come up with new things that have nothing to do with Jesus, but more often have to do with my own work.

How’s this for a vision statement: “Our Church gathers around God’s right hand because Jesus Christ, in Himself, has lifted our humanity into a restored fellowship with the Father, and in the Eucharist we have a testament to this vision – it being the very body and blood of the one sitting at God’s right hand – and it revolutionizes our very vision of the whole world, even as the Holy Spirit drives away the darkness in our hearts – as He’s been doing from the beginning – so that we see nothing but goodness and light in our vision.”

It’s not quite as catchy as “Empowering the vision to transform relationships intentionally in a missional context, we do life together through authentic community.” But hey, it actually means something.

At any rate, today’s passage for meditation might make the simplest foundation for the vision: “If anyone loves Me, he will keep My word; and My Father will love him, and We will come to him and make Our home with him.”

The Father and the Son will bring the heavenly reality into us, and we will truly be the temple of the Holy Spirit. That certainly will change our vision of things.

One of the frustrating things of apologetics is explaining seeming biblical contradictions to people who are not in the faith, who therefore apply secular standards as they work out their anger toward God by playing “gotcha” with the words of Scripture.

A favorite example of this for me is the two verses in the Bible which describe the sin of David when he conducted a census of Israel. One verse says, “Now Satan stood up against Israel, and moved David to number Israel.” The other verse describing the same event has it this way, “Again the anger of the LORD was aroused against Israel, and He moved David against them to say, ‘Go, number Israel and Judah.’”

The blind secularist looks at this and says, “See! A contradiction. Is it Satan or the anger of the Lord?” Because of their blindness, they miss out on an incredibly profound point about the relationship between God’s anger, His alien nature, and Satan. Here we learn that Satan is a tool of God’s anger. Satan is not someone set in cosmological antipathy against God (though he might think he is), but a tool of God’s wrath. God is always in control.

Here’s another one, which we happen to see in this week’s introit for Pentecost. It’s the Psalm on which the introit is based, which has this verse in it, “You have ascended on high, You have led captivity captive; You have received gifts among men.” Note, it says that the one who ascended, Jesus, has received gifts among men. But here’s how St. Paul quotes the verse, “When He ascended on high, He led captivity captive, And gave gifts to men.” Here, it says Jesus gave gifts to men.

So which is it, did Jesus receive gifts among men, or give gifts to men. Neither the Hebrew nor the Greek Septuagint has it that Jesus gave gifts to men. Paul deliberately changed the wording of the Old Testament, which has the word laqach, which means to take, receive, or obtain. How can he do this?

He can do this because He’s an inspired apostle in whom the veil endemic to the Old Testament has been taken away, and because the reality of Christ and what He has done fulfills the Old Testament, and because the new wine which Christ has attained cannot be fully contained by the wineskins of the Old Testament.

And in fact, what Paul is doing is being truer to the Psalm than what the literal words are saying. Keep in mind what Jesus’ ascension means. He ascended on high. He took captivity captive, that is, He undid our captivity to the lost status we had outside of Paradise, outside of the fellowship of God, the captivity to sin and death. And when He sat down at God’s right hand, yes, He received gifts.

What gifts? Here are some verses that answer this question.

“[T]he men whom You have given Me out of the world. They were Yours, You gave them to Me…”

“All authority has been given to Me in heaven and on earth.”

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me…”

“For I have given to them the words which You have given Me.”

“You have given Him authority over all flesh, that He should give eternal life to as many as You have given Him.”

What gifts were given to Jesus? All authority in heaven and on earth, His sheep, God’s Word, eternal life.

But here’s the point that we even see suggested in the last two passages. Jesus received these gifts “among men” (as the Psalm says) so that He might give them “to men” (as St. Paul says). Jesus is so bound to His “men,” being of their flesh, that there is no difference at all between saying, “Jesus received gifts among men” (in His humanity and sharing it with us) and “Jesus gave gifts to men” (in His divinity as the giver of all good gifts). Jesus is us! We are one with Him! We are His body! So, if He receives gifts, we receive gifts. His receiving and His giving is one and the same act.

And this leads to the Holy Spirit, and to Pentecost, because that is the Holy Spirit’s work, to give to us by declaration what Jesus has been given at God’s right hand. The Holy Spirit gives gifts, namely, life, for that is exactly who He is, the Lord and Giver of life.

As another part of the Introit says, “The Spirit of the Lord fills the world.” If Jesus fills the world, having descended and ascended, and thus filling all things, the Spirit of the Lord fills all things as well, and He renews the face of the earth with His life. He delivers by declaration what Jesus has attained at God’s right hand, life. He is the “preaching to all creation” that we see St. Paul reference in that strange phrasing from Colossians 1.

Ah yes, by declaration. Notice in Acts 2, on the day of Pentecost, how sound-ful everything was. I’ve referenced this little quiz I like to give out. Fill in the blank, “The Holy Spirit is like the wind. Even though you can’t see Him, you can ____ Him.” Almost always people say, “feel.” Nope. It’s “hear.” That’s from John 3 when Jesus compares the Holy Spirit to the wind. The Holy Spirit is a sound, not a feeling. (Repeat that a million times and tell it to everyone you know a million times: The Holy Spirit is a sound, not a feeling.)

And we see this on Pentecost. A sound of rushing wind comes. Tongues – tongues! – of flames appear on heads. The apostles speak – speak! – in different languages. And then they had a charismatic service.

Um no. What exactly did Peter preach? Let’s back up and ask that question a bit differently. Inspired by the Holy Spirit who just filled him, what did Peter preach? Well, here’s the pattern of Acts 2. A reading from Joel. Proclamation of the crucifixion and resurrection (ahem, part of the Creed). A Psalm. Proclamation of the ascension (ahem, part of the Creed). A Psalm. Proclamation that Jesus is Christ and Lord (ahem, part of the Creed). Preaching repentance and baptism.

And then what happened? Baptism. Exhortation. Catechesis. Holy Communion. And “the” prayers. Not “prayer” (sigh, NIV). Not “prayers” (sigh, KJV). But “the prayers” (the Greek). What prayers are referenced by that additional definite article? The Lord’s Prayer? The Psalms? An early liturgy perhaps? Whatever it was, it wasn’t just people getting breathy and praying “from their hearts” some “wejust” prayers. It was set prayers.

In any event, let’s put together what happened when the Holy Spirit gave gifts to men by way of declaration, giving to men in parallel with Jesus eternally being given His gifts by the Father among us. What does this amazing event end up looking like?

Old Testament reading. Psalm. Preaching of repentance and the Creed. Baptism. Apostolic teaching. Holy Communion. People gathered together. A set body of prayers. Don’t look now but that almost looks a lot like the liturgy, and what happens on Sunday morning.

Jesus receiving gifts in heaven just as we are receiving gifts on earth looks like the liturgy. That is where all the Holy Spirit’s graces are outpoured. That is where life is given out. For as Jesus said, “You have given Him authority over all flesh, that He should give eternal life to as many as You have given Him.”

He’s been given; we’ve been given; all centered on the Holy Spirit. He’s the one that makes it happen. This week we’ll see how this is a greater work than what Jesus did on earth. We’ll see how this is the cosmic meaning of everything, God’s plan made manifest. We’ll learn still more about the Holy Spirit, His job of glorifying Christ, always pointing to Christ. We’ll learn about the peace of the Lord in the midst of a seemingly non-peaceful world.

It should be a good week.

“And these things they will do to you because they have not known the Father nor Me. But these things I have told you, that when the time comes, you may remember that I told you of them.”

Why do people persecute Christians? Because they have not known the Father nor Christ. A good background to this passage comes from the first chapter of John: “That was the true Light which gives light to every man coming into the world. He was in the world, and the world was made through Him, and the world did not know Him. He came to His own, and His own did not receive Him.”

Jesus, the one begotten of the Father, is the one through whom the world is made. Everything of this world order is of Christ. And the fall doesn’t change any of that, for as St. Paul writes, “He who descended is also the One who ascended far above all the heavens, that He might fill all things.” This is why I’ve commented that there is a way to look at the world and only see Christ. Of course this is by faith, but what a promise of our faith this holds, that we might look at every person, event, and incident in this world and see only Christ, His love, and His goodness.

The world has always been seeking “the meaning of life.” What’s the meaning of it all? Why the world? Why humanity? What’s it all mean? To know Christ is to know that which was made through Him. It’s certainly not vice versa. To know the world without Christ is to project onto it that which humanity has chosen since the beginning, willful evil.

Yet, the world misses out knowing something about itself by rejecting Christ, and “not knowing” Him. It chooses to remain in confusion, and the single group of people who can explain the mystery of the world from the beginning, Christians, they reject precisely because they don’t know the Father or the Son. If they did, they would see in the world God’s plan culminating in the great “It is finished!” at the cross, and see the promise of man’s fulfilled creation. They would see the promise of eternal life, the resurrection of the body, and the inauguration of a new creation. They would see this world as moving toward a glorious renewal and a revelation of the sons of light.

Instead, the world would rather live in cynicism and doubt, embracing death, embracing the return to nothingness, embracing despair. Why? Why does it prefer death? Why, even though hundreds of witnesses saw a man beat death by rising from the dead, will they not seek to know Him? Jesus says because they loved the darkness rather than the light, lest their deeds should be exposed. That makes sense. Who wants to repent when doing so requires confessing, admitting, and dealing with our sin as what it is, sin and rebellion, rather than a lifestyle choice that defines who I am. Consider that, a man would rather go down with sinking ship that is his Self rather than embrace life. That’s pride.

It’s a pride so steadfast it leads to hatred of Christians, because Christians represent that group of people on earth who have embraced a life of repentance of Self and embracing of life. Christians threaten the one who worships Self.

In any event, Jesus concludes the selection saying, “I have told you, that when the time comes, you may remember that I told you of them.”

They say the martyrs get an extra gift of the Holy Spirit to help them through their trials. This verse certainly supports the idea. The time of persecution triggers remembrance of Christ’s words, and provides a special comfort. His words fill the martyr with reminders of who Jesus is, His relation to the world, the reason for His own suffering, what that suffering means for the world, and the glorification that His suffering represents. No wonder the martyrs sang hymns. They were being glorified.

So ends the Easter Season. Lot’s of John’s Gospel! Lot’s of deep mysteries, about the Lord’s goodness, about the work of the Holy Spirit, about life in a hostile world. Really, much of what John was writing lays the foundation for his Revelation, which deals with the same theme: God is in control and leading everything to a good conclusion, but this is hidden from us. Yet, as it was for John, so can it be for us. There is a faith possible which can peer into this world, even all its darkest valleys, and see the Lord with them, working everything for His good, for the ultimate completion of His creation. For as St. Paul writes, “He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ.”