The picture book Last Stop on Market Street tells the simple story of a little boy CJ and his Nana on a city bus one Sunday morning. CJ’s clearly a good little guy–he goes to church with his Nana, he gives his seat up for a blind man on the bus, and he drops the quarter he just got from the driver into the hat of the man singing for his living on the bus. But like me, probably like all of us most days, especially these days, he’s prone to seeing the crumbling sidewalks instead of the rainbows arcing above them. And his observations aren’t wrong: some people do have more than others; some parts of the city are rundown. Nana, though, sees something different
CJ isn’t unlike the disciples worried in that room the night before Jesus starts on the path to the cross, desperately wanting something other than what Jesus is offering. And like CJs Nana, Jesus, in their final hours together, tries to teach them something about joy and love, about what it means to abide or as The Message puts it, to be at home in God’s love.
First, before he talks about love in today’s Gospel or the vine and the branches we heard about last week, Jesus does something that they don’t understand, any more than CJ understands why his Nana always has to go to the soup kitchen after church on Sundays. He washes their feet. And then he tells them in as many different ways as he can what the fullness of love, what happiness, what the kingdom of God looks like if only they will see as he does. Jesus wants them to see, as First John puts it, that God’s “commands are not burdensome, for whatever is born of God conquers the world.”
But sometimes, as CJ points out, God’s commands DO feel burdensome. Coveting for example: it’s hard not to want what other people have when it’s a rainy day, and you have to wait to ride a bus while your friend drives off in his comfortable family car. Or you see someone who’s got AirPods and an iPhone 10 while you’re stuck with your Mom’s hand-me-down. It can be hard to help a stranger when others just get to enjoy their day, doing whatever they want. If you’re a disciple, I suspect it’s really hard to watch your teacher, the one you thought was going to save Israel, wash your feet like a servant and then tell you he’s going to die instead of fight for the kingdom you’ve waiting for all your life.
But through different eyes–Nana eyes–all those burdens are transformed into moments of joy. Rain that drips down CJs nose as he waits is drink for thirsty trees. A rickety bus and a soup kitchen are full of every kind of God’s children–so many to enjoy and love! A blind man sees a way to make Nana’s day brighter. The music of a busker’s guitar fills the air with sunset colors and dancing butterflies. Broken street lamps “still light up bright.” Resurrection comes from the darkest of days. As Nan says to CJ, “Sometimes when you’re surrounded by dirt, you’re a better witness for what’s beautiful.”
In the Gospel, most translations traditionally read, “This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you.” But the Greek is probably more accurately translated this way: “This is my command in order that you may love one another the way I loved you.”
In other words, Jesus isn’t commanding us to love one another the way that he loved us or else–to go out and find a cross to die on. Jesus is pointing his disciples back to all he has said and done while they’ve been together, summed up in the command to wash one another’s feet. Do what I do, he says: follow my example, just as I follow my Father’s way of love. Appreciate others’ gifts rather than coveting what they have. Forgive people and show mercy just as God does. Serve others in the simplest ways. Because if you do, Jesus says, there you will find the joy that comes from loving one another the same way God loves you.
As Nana’s gentle, persistent example shows CJ, serving God is not centered on hardship, self-denial, and sacrifice.. It’s friendship and deep laughter. It is finding beautiful where no one else thinks to look. It is the delight of giving to others. It is living at home in God’s joy-filled, abiding love.
Sunday Morning Words 