That They May Be One

The film “Chocolat” tells the poignant story of Vianne, a single mother, who arrives during Lent in 1959 in a rigidly traditional French village. Despite the villagers’ commitment to Lenten fasting and self-denial, Vianne, a chocolatier, sets up a small shop and begins to introduce the villagers to the delights of chocolate. During the course of the story, Vianne befriends the wife of a brutal alcoholic, welcomes a group of river gypsies who camp nearby, endures the hostility of the mayor, and faces down the alcoholic husband when he threatens to destroy her shop. Towards the end of the film, as Easter approaches, Vianne resolves to leave the village. However, when a group of villagers shares with her their gratitude for her generosity and open heart, she changes her mind. As if affirming her decision, in his Easter sermon, the young priest Pere Henri tells the villagers, “ I want to talk about Christ’s humanity, I mean how he lived his life on earth: his kindness, his tolerance. We must measure our goodness, not by what we resist, or whom we exclude. Instead, we should measure ourselves by what we embrace, what we create, and whom we include.”

“Whom we include.” We are coming to the end of Easter tide. The feast of the Ascension this past Thursday reminded us that Jesus, while no longer physically present to us, is now present to us in a way that transcends time and space. Pentecost, when we joyously celebrate God’s gift of the Holy Spirit, is still ahead of us. During this Easter tide, in our Scripture readings we have been pondering all the ways in which Christ’s resurrection makes a difference in our lives. Today, in our reading from John’s gospel, we hear Jesus’ very last words to us before his acceptance of crucifixion and death. Having washed his friends’ feet and eaten dinner with them, Jesus has instructed them about how to continue their lives together without him. He has given them his peace, he has commanded them to love each other as he has loved them, and he has reminded them that he is the vine, and they are the branches. Now he concludes his after dinner speech with a prayer: a prayer for them, and through them, for every community of disciples that will come into being after his resurrection.

In this prayer Jesus is no longer speaking with his friends. He is not commanding them to do anything. Indeed, he has already given them a new commandment. Here Jesus is in communion with his Father, and he is expressing to his Father his deepest desires for his friends and, by extension, for us. If you read all of Jesus’ prayer in chapter 17 of John’s gospel, you may find it convoluted and hard to follow. Although Jesus seems to be circling around his requests, at least one of Jesus’ requests to God on behalf of his friends stands out clearly: that “they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be completely one….”

What is this oneness for which Jesus prays on our behalf? I believe that we can think about this oneness along three dimensions: oneness with God, oneness with each other, and oneness in service to the world. It’s almost like the sign of the Cross, isn’t it? As Jesus’ friends, as members of his Body, we are already in this life united with God. Oneness with God is not something we strive for, it is something we already have. We can begin to experience this oneness with God in our own personal prayer time. As we sit in stillness, waiting in silence on God, as we voice to God our deepest aspirations for those we care about, as we share with God our grief and frustrations, as we ponder our day and thank God for God’s gifts to us, God may grace us with a sense of union with God, and we may know more surely that we are and have never been anything but God’s beloved children.

We appropriate even more surely our oneness with God when we approach God together with our fellow disciples. Deepening our own personal relationship with Jesus is certainly an important part of maturing as disciples. Yet our personal relationship with God is never the end of Christian life. The Christian life is never solely about “me and sweet Jesus.” We have been baptized into Christ’s Body. As members of Christ’s Body, we are also called to pray and worship together. Believe it or not, even silent prayer is deeper and richer when done together with others in a praying community. As members of the Episcopal Church we are especially called to corporate worship, as we pray from a book of common prayer, a book intended for all. Figuratively, if not literally, as Anglicans we stand around the table together. We know that whatever divides us, together we worship God. And we sense more deeply our oneness with God as all of us together partake of the one bread and drink from the one cup.

The second dimension of oneness Jesus prays that we will experience is oneness with each other. It is ironic – or perhaps prescient – that the writer of John’s gospel should have Jesus offer this prayer, as the community to which John was writing was deeply divided. Nevertheless, here Jesus prays that we will recognize, as members of Christ’s Body, our fundamental oneness with each other. On the parish level, we understand ourselves to be part of a community that supports its members both spiritually and pastorally and whose invitation is open to all. Indeed, a parish our size cannot afford the luxury of conflict and schism, but, rather, is called to graciously include all who come through the red doors – or even the glass doors. Our Common Ministry team has recognized our desire to live into our oneness as a community. For that reason, the team has surveyed our gifts and strengths as a parish, begun the Second Sunday potlucks, and suggested a gala celebration next week for Pentecost.

Our oneness with fellow disciples extends beyond the parish. As Episcopalians we are also part of a diocese, the Diocese of Southern Ohio, which is made up of 25,000 people who attend eighty different parishes in the southern half of the state. This past Wednesday we received a powerful reminder of our oneness with the rest of the diocese, as representatives from five parishes from different parts of the diocese gathered to induct new members of the Society of St. Simeon and St. Anna, including our own Alice and Jimmy Salyer. We are also members of the wider Episcopal Church in the United States. Last month, I was graced to experience our ties to the Church of the Resurrection, the parish on Long Island that has been adding children’s clothes and equipment to our diaper distribution program. Through our ecumenical efforts here at home and through the Anglican Communion, the World Council of Churches, and other church bodies, we are reminded of our oneness with all our sisters and brothers in Christ. Our oneness with fellow Christians even transcends time and space, as we know ourselves to be surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, fellow disciples in the communion of saints, who have gone before us as members of Christ’s Body.

Finally, in his great priestly prayer, Jesus prays that we will experience oneness with those whom we serve, those to whom we give sacrificially of ourselves, as he gave himself for us. When we are at our best, we experience that sense of oneness with those whom we serve at the Loaves and Fishes dinner. We don’t just tolerate our diners. We don’t just welcome them. We invite them, and we embrace them as God’s children, sisters and brothers for whom Christ died, sisters and brothers who are as beloved of God as we are. We are also at one with those whom we serve farther away. When Hurricane Sandy destroyed homes, businesses, and churches six months ago, many dioceses and individual parishes understood their oneness with east coast communities and stepped in with aid. The Episcopal dioceses of Easton, New Jersey, Newark, New York, and Long Island are among those who are even now generously helping impacted communities recover from the devastation. As many of you know well, our oneness with our fellow human beings extends well beyond our borders. Our care and concern for others transcends lines of faith communities and ultimately national boundaries. In the Episcopal Church, for example, the diocese of Atlanta has played a major part in the fight against malaria, both historically in the United States and now as a major force in the Nets for Life Inspiration Fund, the church-wide, grassroots effort of Episcopal Relief and Development to raise awareness and support for malaria prevention.

“We’re all just walking each other home,” says American spiritual teacher Ram Dass. As we go, Jesus prays that we will turn no one away, and that we will walk hand in hand, one with God, one with each other, and one in service to all who need our love and care.