SUNDAY AFTER THE ASCENSION (May 15th)
1988
John 17: 6-19
Some years ago when I was in the
equivalent of year 10 at a boarding school in New Zealand, I was returning to
my boarding house from a sports meeting in the city, and on the way home I
stopped, as I often did in those days, with a friend for a quick cigarette in the
cemetery. Unknown to either of us we were spotted by one of the house prefects who
was also returning from the city, and who, when we arrived back at the house
separately some minutes later summoned us to the prefects’ study. We were
called up to the study separately, and neither knew why, or whether the other
had also been summoned. There, independently of one another, we were each asked
the dreaded question, “Have you been smoking?”
Now I was never a brave fifteen-year-old,
and was usually very quick to find some alternative to the truth if I sensed that the truth was likely to bring me trouble, that a white lie or six would
help preserve me from trouble. On this occasion, however, I quickly realised I
had an insurmountable problem or two. In the first place I had not had enough
time to shower and change out of the clothes which still had the smell of
cigarette smoke clinging to them, nor disguise the smell of
smoke on my breath. And in the second place I didn’t know whether my friend had
also been interrogated, and if he had, whether he had dobbed me in. I confessed
to my crime, knowing that I would be caned. My friend, I later learned, made a
desperate attempt to lie his way out of the predicament.
Now there could be three possible
endings to this story. I could have been rewarded for my honesty and let off
the punishment for my heinous crime. Or I could have been punished for my sins,
while my friend’s lies saved his skin from punishment. Or the prefects could
have decided we were both guilty and each equally deserving of punishment. I’ll
tell you one day what happened.
But I will say that the point that
was really at issue that afternoon was not one of a couple of clandestine
cigarettes, but rather one of truth, of honesty. Billy Joel sings of honesty as
being “such a lonely word.” It was that
day.
And “what is truth?” said Pilate.
Running through all the writings in
the New Testament that bear John’s name is a sort of sub-theme of truth. John
mentions the word “truth” far more than any other New Testament writer, and
only the Psalms contain more reference to the word than John’s account of the
gospel. This theme of truth is introduced at the very opening of the
gospel account:
the word
became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.
Constantly John is to return to
this theme. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, and those who abide in
Jesus abide in truth.
Truth in John’s thought is much
more than mere honesty. But clearly, where there is no honesty, there cannot be
even the beginnings of truth. An encounter with Jesus – an encounter that I
believe we join in together each time we share in the Eucharist – an encounter
with Jesus is an encounter with truth, and with all that truth demands.
So what is truth? That of course is
Pilate’s question, but that is no reason for us to shun it. What is truth?
The life and death of Jesus points
us in an unmistakable way to part of the answer. Jesus died because he spoke
the word of truth in the midst of society’s innumerable means of avoiding truth.
He spoke the word of truth that love, not law, is what God demands of all his
people. He spoke the word of truth that justice must be a central concern of
all people who claim to be people of God. He spoke the word of truth that it is
our inner thoughts and deeds that are the concern of God, not our outer shows
of religious excellence. Jesus points us to the truth, and the
way of the cross is and always will be the way of truth.
Jesus also reminds us that God is
the parent in heaven who discerns motives, not actions. It was not the wealthy,
sanctimonious giver at the temple who won the admiration of Jesus, but the poor
widow who gave to God not a mere tithe but all of her possessions.
Sanctify
them in the truth; thy word is truth.
Jesus in his hour of agony prays
for us, that we might live and be “holy” in the truth. How can we do that?
There are no hard and fast rules. There is only the expectation that we are to live our lives as ambassadors or icons of Christ, that those around us will evaluate Christ and therefore God by what they see, of us, of our actions. So we must evaluate our lives and ensure they are lived with integrity.
Do we live by any double standards? If so then we
must set right such a double standard and seek to live a life of truth. Do we
gossip, speaking well of our neighbour behind his or her back without first
seeking to bring our grievances and innuendos to the person concerned for
clarification and reconciliation? If so then we must curb our ready tongues,
seek the forgiveness of God and any who we have slandered, and live instead in
truth. Do we say things about people behind their backs that we could not say
to their face? Do we build up resentments against one another without airing
them directly? If so, then we must once again seek God’s forgiveness and the
Spirit’s assistance to help us live together in truth.
To deviate from truth is sin.
That is precisely the meaning of the word “sin.” It is a missing of the mark, a
deviation from a true aim. If we are to join in the New Testament notion that
Christians will be recognisable to the rest of the world by the quality of their
love for one another and for their neighbour then we must emphasise that the
great gifts God makes available to us are open to us only when we live a life
befitting of Christ. The Christ who died precisely because he confronted the
world with naked truth.
Jesus describes himself in the
Fourth Gospel as “the way, the truth, and the life.” It is only and can only be
when we embrace the vocation to live our entire life in honesty and truth that
we can receive the abundant benefits of the life Jesus seeks to liberate all
people to enjoy.
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