Speaker 1: Welcome to the CommonsCast. We're glad to have you here. We hope you find something meaningful in our teaching this week. Head to commons.church for more information.
Speaker 2: Hi, everyone. My name is Yelena. I'm one of the pastors on the team here at Commons. And thank you so much for joining us today for our second conversation on making more room in all those relational spaces that we inhabit. Last week, we focused on our one on one experiences of community.
Today is about how we show up in small groups, next week, large groups, and then for our fourth session on Thursday, November 26, we invite you to join us on Zoom to expand this conversation to community and culture. Personally, it is really meaningful for me that we picked up the topic of community again this year. And not only because it's a big part of my work here, but also as a first generation immigrant and fairly nuclearian with no family support systems here, I'm still in the process of deepening my relational roots in this place. And the pandemic has made it so much harder. Dennis and I are now exploring this idea of starting a conversation with some people who are already part of our life here in Calgary and inviting them to form an intentional community with us.
And I kind of struggle with it. I'm all for organic connections, and this feels almost too planned. It also goes against my impulse to be self sufficient, and there's also a tiny voice of fear. What if this doesn't work? But maybe this is a gift of this strange season.
When everybody struggles to practice hospitality in familiar ways, then maybe it's time to get creative and find courage to be a bit more vulnerable about what we need and then reach out to each other in specific and intentional ways. Last week, Bobby kicked off this new series by inviting us to see what happens when we do that one on one encounters. We looked at the story of a Roman official who needed Jesus to heal his son. The need encouraged that man to cross both social and geographic boundaries. He had the audacity to argue with the divine, to insist on the good that God could do in the situation.
And when Jesus' healing word found his son at the right time, it was received by that man as a sign. And Bobby encouraged us to be divine signs to one another as we find ways to get through this season together. Well, that was one on one. Today, we'll look at small groups. And if you're taking notes, we will talk about things we don't understand, conversation about possibility, the new command, and the gift of showing up.
But first, let's pray. Loving God, to you, all hearts are open and all desires known. We trust that in your love, we are home. There is nothing we can do to make ourselves more lovable, and there is nothing we can do to make you love us less. And so we ask you to meet us today in our desire for deep connection and friendship, in our frustration that so many opportunities for that got interrupted.
In our hope that we are seen behind our masks and screens and closed doors. Spirit of the living God, who's always transforming fragmentation into wholeness. We confess that we are not the best at this task, especially this season. But we want to be your true partners in the renewal of all things. And we ask you to help us as we learn how to.
In Jesus' name we pray. Amen. Today we are in John 13 verses 31 through 38. But first, let's locate ourselves in the story, starting with verse one. It was just before the Passover festival.
Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress. Now, the first part of the Gospel of John, the book of signs, takes up 12 chapters and spans several years of Jesus' life. It shows him teaching, preaching, healing.
It covers major religious festivals and the ongoing conflicts with the Jewish leaders and the Pharisees. It also gives us seven major miracles, like turning water into wine, feeding the 5,000, raising Lazarus from the dead. However, in all that public work, the relationship of Jesus and his small group disciples takes the back seat. But now, John fully shifts our attention from big and public to small and intimate. Now we are in the second part of Gospel, the book of glory.
After speeding through several years of action, the Gospel comes to a crawl, to mark hours, and to let Jesus talk to his friends about how they will go on living without him. In chapter 13 through 17, Jesus interprets his death and resurrection before they even happen. But these people who are meant to know Jesus deeply struggle to understand him. One example. In the middle of the meal, Jesus gets up from the table, puts aside his outer robe, and starts washing his disciples' feet, drying them with a towel, all to their utter shock.
Now, foot washing was a gesture of hospitality, usually offered by the host to the guests who would travel on food along dusty roads. But it was never done by the host or moreover, a rabbi. It was too low of a task even for a Jewish servant. Footwashing was a job for female and non Jewish slaves, a lowly work for the invisible who could never belong to the inner circle. And right before their eyes, Jesus erases those social conventions.
Moreover, he tells them to follow his example. In this inner circle, from now on, no one holds power over another. No one is invisible. And no one has the privilege of not noticing the dirty feet and thinking that it's someone else's job. The disciples struggle to grasp how their teacher and Lord has just crossed into a completely new relational zone.
They get even more confused when later Jesus gets upset and tells them that one of them will betray him. Trying to clarify that mystery, Peter motions to another disciple, supposedly John, to ask Jesus to identify the betrayer. And when Jesus tells Judas to carry out his plan, no one in the room understands that interaction. And with this, the stage for the book of glory is set. And what I find fascinating is how much misunderstanding and indirect communication and nonverbal signaling is happening here.
You know how they say, if you really want to know a person, you need to travel with them, which I think is true. Everyone's goodwill gets tested while living in close quarters and deciding on the plan for the day. And some trips never happen again. But ideally, you emerge from that experience with a better knowledge of each other. Now this group has accompanied Jesus for years.
They've seen him weep. They partied together. They worked through some hurts. They are tight. And yet there are things about each other that they do not understand.
But I also find it strangely comforting how real this meal is. There's a breaking down of barriers, which happens when we eat together. There are attempts to clarify the conversation with questions and answers that keep missing each other. We've all had it, right? There's also some raw emotion about the future.
And it's not quite grasped but shared nevertheless. Multiple times through that night Jesus says, You do not understand yet, but you will understand later. And maybe one way we can make more room for each other is to do just that: give ourselves permission to grow into understanding over time. Which also requires holding our assumptions and expectations loosely. The season we're in has put massive stress even on solid friendships.
We have to withdraw because we care. And now we're all relearning how the pandemic friendships work. And if you're only trying to find your people in this place, it probably feels like an impossible task. But we see you. Please keep going.
Sometimes we might not expect a lot, but the conversations we choose to have might take us in a surprising direction. Let's pick up in verse 31. When Judas was gone, Jesus said, Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in him. If God is glorified in him, God will glorify the Son in himself and will glorify him at once. My children, I will be with you only little longer.
You will look for me, and just as I told the Jews, so I tell you now, where I'm going, you cannot come. Now with Judas on his way to hand Jesus over, Jesus begins his goodbye. The Gospel writer structures it as a departure speech, a common genre in the Jewish and Greek or Roman literary tradition. Departure speeches were usually given on the eve of death by family patriarchs to their children or by great leaders to their followers. And the point was to give those staying behind a look into the future and some instructions to help them live into it.
And those final words were also meant to bring some solace. That is why Jesus begins his farewell with a comforting word. On the other side of betrayal and death is glory. Now this glory is not about fame. John draws on the Old Testament imagination of the divine here.
The Greek word for glory, doxa, is a Septuagint translation of the Hebrew kabod, which has a connotation of weight or heaviness. It was often used to describe someone's worthiness, as in this is a person of substance. And when applied to God, kabod described a visible manifestation of God's character. Meaning God's glory was tied up with God's actions. Usually concrete and powerful ones, like taking Israel out of slavery in Egypt, guiding them in the wilderness, giving the law on Mount Sinai.
So when John talks about glory, he engages with that idea. In Christ's death and resurrection, the divine will act in a concrete and powerful way, transforming the world from within. However, for this group who are still on this side of the story, on the death side, the following hours will not look like a visible demonstration of God's glory. And that is why Jesus makes room for them to at least start imagining a different story. What seems like the end for him and this group is actually a new beginning.
And they will not only witness that, but they will also become agents of change. Now one of the thinkers that has been expanding my imagination of community is Peter Block. For him, all transformation in our life is linguistic, which makes community essentially a conversation. Community rises and falls on the stories we tell. The stories that restore us are those that inspire the fullest expression of our humanitymetaphors, parables, wisdompersonal stories of almost mythical quality.
The limiting stories keep us stuck in the past. They are about the conclusions we drew from events that happened to us. Stories that keep us believing that our life is as good as it can get, and the future will only be a slightly modified version of the past. He writes, If we want to change the community, what we have to do is change the conversation, to shift it from one of problems, fear, and retribution to one of possibility, generosity, and restoration. We need to distinguish between the stories that give meaning to our lives and help us find our voice and those that limit our possibility.
And this almost sounds too easy, right? Let's just launch into a new conversation and things will magically change in all those places we call community. But maybe block is onto something here. Think about it. How often do we actually bring a lens of possibility into our conversation when we gather?
What story are we telling by how we gather and who's in the room and who is not? And if community is built one room at a time, what can this room be about? Granted, so many rooms where we show up now are virtual, and the tools are imperfect, and Zoom fatigue is real. But the conversations we have are also real, and we can choose our story or even create one together. And here's the first instruction Jesus gives to his disciples for their new story.
A new command I give you, love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this, everyone will know that you are my disciples if you love one another. And it is so important for Jesus that they get it, that he loops back to this idea several times using the same language in John 15. This is my command.
Love each other. Now the idea of mandating love is curious in itself, but let's talk about Jesus calling this command new. First of all, it goes back as far as the law of Moses. In the book of Leviticus, God tells Moses to communicate to the people of Israel a series of commands, and one of them goes like this: Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.
Then in the synoptic gospels, Jesus himself summarizes the law in two commands, love the Lord your God and love your neighbor as yourself. So how is this new? Well, one way it's new is that Jesus has now set the pattern. It's not just about loving your neighbor as yourself. It's loving your neighbor in a way that is true to how Jesus loves them.
And if the food washing was any indication, it is a pretty spacious and wall breaking love. What's interesting though is that in the Old Testament, the language of commandments was closely tied up with the idea of the covenant. And in the Synoptics, the Last Supper was the night when Jesus ate the Passover meal with his friends and announced that he was making a new covenant by giving his life for them. And they broke the bread and drank from the cup as a way to mark and remember it. Now John structures this last meal differently.
It happens before the Passover festival. There is no breaking of the bread or sharing of the cup to mark the covenant. But throughout the night, Jesus talks about laying down his life for his friends, and the giving of the command points to the fact that a covenant is being made. And I think that John's perspective here adds a relational dimension to the synoptic tradition. For John, the sign of the covenant will be how this group would treat each other.
The new command is that from now on, they are Christs to one another, and they will remember the covenant by living it. Now the verb for love here is agapan, which comes from agape. In Greek, agape was used to describe the kind of love that had definition by a French New Testament scholar, Cecil Spieg. Agape represents outgoing, effect producing, gift giving love that is restless until it shows itself. So what if the command sounds something like this: Rest in God's love and be restless to show your love to one another.
It is a creative task that will renew you, and it's a sign of Christ's presence in the world. I think though that sometimes thinking of love as a command stresses us out. Maybe because we kind of read it backwards, the world needs to know Jesus, so we have to show them, which means we need to love one another. It's almost like we're adding a task on top of a task and putting the effect before the cause. But what if the command is about how we become the people who love?
And for that, we need those closed circles, supportive groups, and healthy communities. Mia Birdsong, in her book How We Show Up, puts it beautifully: Living in my bubble is important for my well And it's the place we practice world making, creating some version of the future world we want to live in now, in the present. Living into the future, creating the culture we want with the people closest to us, is a declaration of love and commitment. I will spend time working with people who are less like me, in identity or ideology or understanding. But my armor is lighter because I'm stronger.
It's like my people help me discover my superpowers. It makes it possible for me to do the work I'm called to do with people outside my bubble, revealing our often hidden connections. Our friends, our groups, our safe spaces teach us to love. And then that love finds a way to pour out. Let's finish the story.
Simon Peter asked him, Lord, where are you going? Jesus replied, Where I'm going, you cannot follow now, but you will follow later. Peter asks, Lord, why can't I follow you now? I will lay down my life for you. Then Jesus answered, Will you really lay down your life for me?
Very truly I tell you, before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times. I think every group needs a Peter. If you know someone who asks blunt questions that are on everyone's mind and can voice the collective fears, invite them into your group. I'm telling you, those people are a gift to any community for those two reasons. But of course, this small community is terrified about what's coming.
They recognize that this is a goodbye, they're baffled, and they do separated from Jesus. And Peter, in his concern and enthusiasm, makes a declaration which he will not be able to live up to. And it's not just the private remark to Jesus, the whole group witnesses that interaction. So now we have Judas who's already walked out on this group. And before the night ends, Peter will turn his back on this relationship too.
What is this group even about? And I think it's about being seen in our becoming. As one scholar aptly puts it, Jesus's you will deny me three times does not undo. You will follow me later. And as this group sees Peter's weakness and failure, it will also witness his restoration.
And this, I think, is one of the truest gifts of showing up. We get to be witnessed in how we grow into our skin, how we leave and come back, how we fail and get up and find our way in the world. What strikes me here is that Jesus knows that in a matter of hours this group will disperse. They will be ridden with shame. They will go through a huge trauma of losing their leader and one of their friends.
They will not know what to do next. But when they gather again, they will give each other room to heal. They will grow together and become the people who love. And they will go with that creative and healing love into the world. And one day, that same love will have us gathered here.
Well, let's go back to our theme here, making more room for each other in those small circles we belong to. So sometimes making more room looks like going light on our assumptions and being okay with the time it takes to understand each other. It also looks like paying attention to the conversation that is shaping our bubble. What is the story we're telling as a group? Who does it empower or disempower?
What can we create together? It looks like being intentional in cultivating a safe and nourishing space for each other every time we connect. And finally, it always looks like showing up. Simply by committing to be present in each other's lives, we create opportunities and make room for so much good. It is a privilege to grow and change and be seen as we do.
And so, as you go into this week, may you make room for your friend's becoming. May you trust the slow work of grace as you keep showing up, and may you know that you are not failing at this thing called love. You are here. Let's pray. Loving God, how strange and how beautiful it is to be free to tell stories, to create worlds, to love and be loved, to see brokenness and yet choose hope, and have friends, companions, and supporting voices as we do all these things.
In this, we know your love. But we also know that the opposite is also true. And we pray for those of us whose experience of community has not been true to your spirit. Those whose trusts have been broken, who have been hurt, and who are not sure how to move forward. God, would you make room for healing and peace, for safe spaces and restorative conversations?
In this, we also know your love. In the strong name of Christ, pray. Amen.