A mini-drama at the school gate on the first-timers’ first school day: a sense of abandonment, tears and cries or even tantrums. A tight hug, some consoling words and assurances of coming back in no time usually calm things down. And that’s just the parents… Everyone’s life is marked by milestones; moments or events that significantly change life in one way or another. Some milestones are anticipated because they are part of a natural progression, such as an 18th birthday. Others can come as a surprise; sometimes pleasant, sometimes less so. Perhaps as young people – invincible in our own minds – we were quite carefree in our attitudes towards life and whatever came our way. Later in life, having been through tough times and roughed around a bit we tend to look more for safety and security in the broadest sense of these words. We also start caring much more for those we love; we try to protect our children behind an invisible shield so they can be carefree, just as we used to be. Having experienced our own vulnerability and fragility, we make efforts to protect and ensure the future of those we love when we are not here anymore. We buy life insurance to provide for our loved ones in case of a sudden unfortunate event. My late grandmother, having been diagnosed with terminal cancer, did everything she could to sort things out before her passing so her children wouldn’t have to. We’ve heard stories of terminally ill people writing letters or recording messages for their loved ones to be read, listened to, or watched after their passing. Something similar happened at the end of Jesus’ public ministry, on the night of the Last Supper, from which today’s gospel reading was taken.
At first glance, it might look like some religious gibberish. It makes much more sense when we see those words in a much wider context. Let’s have a look at it then. Jesus addressed a group of his close friends and followers in Jerusalem, a city of enormous religious and cultural importance to the Jewish people; an importance impossible to overrate. As with most places like that, its residents saw themselves as superior to anyone else. The group of friends Jesus addressed had mostly come from modest backgrounds in many ways. Firstly, their home region, Galilee, was seen by the Judeans as semi-pagan, rural and inferior. Their education was basic; they certainly were able to read and write and had some knowledge of the Jewish holy scriptures, but it wasn’t sophisticated. Based on many hints in the gospels, we can safely assume that they were quite insecure, but for most of the time they spent with Jesus he was shielding them from any attacks. They witnessed many times Jesus’ opponents setting seemingly inescapable intellectual traps to catch him, only to see those traps dismantled by Jesus or springing back at their designers. This trail of his victories boosted their morale and self-regard enormously, but they dreaded imagining Jesus’ possible demise, so when he used to tell them about his future sacrificial death they didn’t listen. When such a dreaded moment did eventually arrive, there was no way to pretend they couldn’t hear about it. At the Last Supper, gathered around the table, Jesus spoke extensively about his departure from life, as reported by the gospel of St John. It made them understandably sad and heartbroken. With Jesus gone, the world around them suddenly looked dangerous and hostile and there was nobody to shield them anymore.
In such a context Jesus’ words in today’s gospel reading find a very powerful meaning. He addressed their sense of abandonment by telling them: “I will not leave you orphans; I will come back to you.” Yet his return would be different; not like parents coming back to collect their children from school. He would be present in them through his teaching; what they had learned from him would lead them through their future lives and challenges. A number of people have greatly and positively impacted my life and who I am; though they have not been around me for a very long time or have died, their legacy is alive and well in me. Secondly, Jesus promised them “another Advocate to be with you forever, that Spirit of truth.” Our translation as “Advocate” is highly inadequate and one-dimensional; but there’s no single word in English that could reflect the meaning of the Greek word “Paraclete”. It’s a combination of the words para (‘beside/alongside’) and kalein (‘to call’). It’s someone to stand by me not only during legal proceedings (hence the advocate) but also to support, console and defend. In the same way that Jesus during his public ministry shielded and helped his disciples to grow, this other Paraclete will actively accompany them after his departure. For Jesus, his death was the ransom paid for sinful humankind. For his disciples it was a coming of age, venturing into the wide world, unfamiliar and often seen as dangerous and hostile.
Some fifty days later one of those mournful participants of the Last Supper in his first public appearance told the hastily gathered crowd: “the promise is for you, for your children, and for all who are far away, everyone whom the Lord our God calls to him.” (Acts 2:39) When we face our own challenges and difficulties, when they seem insurmountable and overwhelming and we feel as if we’ve been left to our own devices, we can recall and rely on Jesus words as addressed to each one of us: “I will not leave you orphans; I shall ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you forever.”