Remember?

John 14:25-26, 15:26-27, 16:4-15
Pentecost
May 28, 2023

14:25-26”I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.

15:26”When the Advocate comes, whom I will send to you from the Father, the Spirit of truth who comes from the Father, he will testify on my behalf. You also are to testify because you have been with me from the beginning.”

16:4-15 But I have said these things to you so that when their hour comes you may remember that I told you about them. “I did not say these things to you from the beginning, because I was with you. But now I am going to him who sent me; yet none of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’ But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your hearts.

Nevertheless I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Advocate will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you. And when he comes, he will prove the world wrong about sin and righteousness and judgment: about sin, because they do not believe in me; about righteousness, because I am going to the Father and you will see me no longer; about judgment, because the ruler of this world has been condemned. I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth; for he will not speak on his own, but will speak whatever he hears, and he will declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me, because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.”


A nice note arrived from a church friend who could not be here this morning. She ended the note by writing, “Happy Memorial Day and Happy Pentecost!” In case you missed it, both events coincide this weekend. Sometimes the national calendar bumps into the church’s calendar. Sometimes one of them pushes the other away.

Tomorrow is Memorial Day. We pause to honor those who have died in the service of our country. At eleven o’clock, the fire engines drive down State Street, the high school band and the Scout troops will march, all of them preceded by the Veterans who made it out alive. If you’re in town, park up here and join us on Presbyterian corner at the bottom of the hill. It’s a big parade to mark a special day. When it’s over, someone will give you a ride back up the hill. That’s tomorrow.

Today is Pentecost, the 50th day of the Easter season. Originally a harvest festival, it became a celebration of the Torah, the Word of God. That’s why faithful Jews gathered in Jerusalem. And while they were there, the Spirit of God blew in through a window and out to the street. Jesus told his first followers to wait for this. On the fiftieth day, the Holy Spirit showed up and has never left.

Memorial Day and Pentecost, two quite different holidays, as different from one another as war and peace. At first hearing, they inhabit two different spheres. One celebrates the commitment to country, embodied in the ultimate sacrifice. The other names a Mystery which remains far too mysterious for many.

Yet as divergent as they are, the two days hold a single word in common: remember. Remember.

For Memorial Day, we salute the flag and spruce up the graves as we remember those who did not make it to this day. For Pentecost, there is no flag, no inherent nationality, for the Holy Spirit has pushed the followers of Jesus beyond their own borders. What began as a dissident fellowship in Judaism is now an international movement with Jesus at the center.

“I will send you the Spirit that proceeds from the Father and the Son,” says the Lord to his friends, “and this Spirit will remind you of everything I have said.” The gift of Pentecost is memory.

For some of us, memory would be a gift. Especially short-term memory. Where did I put the car keys? What time did you want me to pick her up? Is tonight garbage night? And where is the calendar where I wrote everything down?

I would ask if all of you remembered to unplug the iron before you came to worship, except I don’t want anybody to scoot out of here, anxious, and forgetful. Or course, I don’t want anybody’s house to burn down, either.

John brings the words of Jesus, who is speaking to the church. He knows a forgetful church is tempted to reduce its reach and become a private club. Or in a lapse of amnesia, will forget that it’s born from the grace of God and not cobbled together by the achievements of its adherents. You don’t have to be anybody special to be part of the family of Christ. It probably helps if you’re not special at all.

And I’ve seen churches that forget who they are. Every week is another fundraiser, fleecing the flock for candy sales, raffles, tickets to tea parties, and bus trips to the casinos. Somebody asks, “Why are you doing these things?” The answer: “We need the money.” Why do you need the money? “To stay open.” But why are you open? They stare blankly. The blood drains from their faces. Nobody’s sure. That’s a church with amnesia.

See why memory is important? Jesus says, “I will ask the Father, and we will send the Spirit, and you will remember.” When John talks this way, the word for “remembrance” sparkles because it is rarely used. He’s not talking about the inscription on a post-it note, something to reaffirm what might be forgotten.

That’s what the rainbow is. One day, God decided to wipe out the world. Too much corruption, too much sin. God had enough. So he picked out Noah, and said, “Build a boat and climb aboard,” then send a whole lot of rain. Everything and everybody was washed away, as Noah, his family, and the animals floated in safety. When that terrible episode was over, God said, “I shouldn’t have handled it that way.”

So God took his bow and put it in the sky as a perpetual reminder. “I will not wipe out the world again,” said the Lord, “I will look at the rainbow and I will remember.” So God remembers.

But Jesus looks at the church to say, “You shall remember.” Remember? Remember what? He says, “You shall remember my words,” at least the life-giving words, like love and life, grace and truth, judgment, and joy. “You shall remember because the Holy Spirit will come to teach, to testify, to confirm, and to guide.”

In this passage, “remember” is a remarkably passive verb. Jesus is not calling on us to memorize all the verses of scripture, although that wouldn’t hurt if we memorized a few. No, he’s hinting how the Spirit will come alongside us, how the Spirit will suggest something important to us, how the Spirit will keep speaking in the voice of Jesus, long after Jesus has gone.

When John says, “Remember,” he’s not calling on us to pick up a package of hot dog buns for the picnic that we were likely to forget. Rather, he is making a claim about the Resurrection of Jesus. The Spirit is coming as the presence of the Risen Christ, and we will know this through his Voice. Jesus continues to speak. When he does, we will remember.

I don’t know how all of this sounds to you, and that’s OK. It’s his text, not mine. It’s his promise, not ours. What I do know is that I have heard Christ speak – and perhaps you have too.

I grew up in a small town seventy-five miles northwest of here. The great gift that I received from my parents is that I was never given a choice how to spend a Sunday morning. Our family spent the morning in church. There was learning time, worship time, and cookie time. We did all three. And I know, those were the days before sports on Sundays, traveling every weekend, or any number of other diversions. My folks took us to church. Every week. It was not optional. They had committed to making Christian disciples out of us.

That’s not to say it was exciting. It was not. My church didn’t have a children’s sermon. We didn’t have a bell choir. But I’ll tell you what we did have. We had a preacher. Every week, he stood with his big, black robe and he talked as if something were at stake. I didn’t know what it was, but I recognized his passion. He had spent hours during the week, unlocking Bible passages, praying about what to say, writing it down, even practicing in the empty room when nobody was there.

A lot of the time, I didn’t know what he was talking about. Or why he went on so long. I was given permission to take the little stubby pencil in the pew and fill in the letters in my worship bulletin. Every zero or O was blacked in like a standardized test. I admit I was killing time while sermon words were ricocheting off my eardrums. Then the preacher would say “Amen,” the organist would crank up a hymn, and the quietest kid in our family pew was allowed to put the envelope in the offering plate.

Anybody else have a childhood like this? Anybody else not know what the preacher was talking about?

But then, one day, I don’t know how, I leaned forward. One of those words landed, it didn’t ricochet. I realized he was talking to me. I didn’t get all of it, but something got through and I was startled. I put the pencil down. Whatever the preacher said was coming from somewhere really deep. He was telling the truth, even though I didn’t comprehend the whole thing. And I kept leaning forward.

One day, I spoke to the preacher on my way out the door. I told him what I liked about what he had said. Can’t remember what it was. He smiled and said, “Thank you.” Later I discovered from my dad that what I thought the preacher said, he hadn’t said at all. But that was OK, because a good sermon doesn’t merely impart information; it enrolls us in a conversation – and by that, I mean, a conversation between the Alive Jesus and the people who are learning to love him. And he’s still speaking.

It's not to say that every word in a sermon is worth hearing. I’m sure you know that. But you never know which word is the one that carries Christ to somebody who is open, available, and listening for him.

Years later, I discovered a line from the Apostle Paul, who was a vastly different writer from John. It’s a good line, a truthful line. It’s where he says, “Faith comes from what is heard, and what is heard comes through the word of Christ.” Romans 10:17. Jesus keeps speaking. Sometimes it’s a whisper, occasionally it’s a shout. Often, I’ve heard some of you say it’s a gentle nudge, or a metaphor that you can’t chew, or a parable that turns a picture sideways so you can see it better. Christ speaks and faith happens.

Let me assure you that, when something like that happens, that’s not the preacher. That might be the Holy Spirit, giving you a friendly elbow, inviting you to lean forward and drop the pencil. If and when that happens, listen – and remember.

This is a good place to conclude fifteen Sundays with the Gospel of John, because John never actually finishes his book. The Voice of Jesus goes on. The cross did not silence him. The resurrection took him out of our sight, yet he comes again in the presence of his Spirit to keep speaking, to keep teaching, to keep commanding us to love one another – and to love all that he loves.

So it’s a weekend to remember. We remember faithful souls who gave their lives for our freedom, and that’s important. And we remember the One who has given his life for all. He’s the One still speaking. Remember?

(c) William G. Carter. All rights reserved.