The Fifth Sunday of Easter (Year A)

LORD, WE DON’T KNOW WHERE YOU ARE GOING; SHOW US THE WAY 

The Fifth Sunday of Easter (Year A)
Acts 6: 1-7; 1Peter 2: 4-9; John 14: 1-12 

I had a restless night sleep last night; I don’t know why. I felt okay. My mind wasn’t necessarily on overdrive, pondering the mysteries of the universe. Nor was it preoccupied with problems or worries. I simply thought of this, that, and the other thing. Somewhere in the midst of my journey through the random thoughts, and people and memories that kept me awake, I recalled one particular July of my young childhood.

I was raised in a very middle-class family. My mom was a stay-at-home mom (as most were back then) and my dad worked hard to pay the bills, put food on our table and clothes on our back. There wasn’t much money left over for the luxuries that some families enjoyed and that perhaps many of us think fall into the category of “necessities” today. As a result, we didn’t go away on too many summer vacations. But we never felt deprived. During the weeks that my Dad had off from work, we had picnics at Belmont Lake or Salisbury Park (now renamed Eisenhower Park), or went to the beach. (Being from New York, it was NEVER referred to as “the shore,” as it is here in New Joicy.) 

But one particular year, it rained every day of the two weeks my Dad had off. Frustrated, and trying to salvage at least a few days, the suitcases were rapidly packed and loaded into the car. We were going away! Away to someplace, anyplace. Away to someplace that didn’t have clouds and rain . . . Away to anyplace the summer sun shone. Nowadays, vacation getaways are planned, reservations made, and eagerly anticipated for months well in advanced. Not that summer during the 1960’s for the Olsen Family! We literally had absolutely no idea where we were going as our green Chrysler Newport backed out of our driveway. As we drove down Newbridge Avenue (now called East Meadow Avenue), my Dad pulled into Sam’s Gulf Station. While the car was filling with gas, my Dad went into the gas station office and emerged with a road map, the only one Sam had. The decision had been made for us. We were going to Pennsylvania! Where in Pennsylvania? That’s a story for another homily. 

As I tossed and turned in bed last night, suddenly I saw a connection with Thomas’ words in today’s Gospel, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going; Show us the way.” On his last night with his friends, Jesus told his closest friends, “Not to worry! I’m leaving to get things ready for you. Then I’ll come back to take you with me. And you know the way!” But Thomas, the doubter, the realist, the practical guy says, “Jesus, we have no idea where you’re going! How could we possibly know how to get there?” 

Have you ever been in that place where you feel lost and don’t know the way out, let alone the way home? Has there been a time in your life when you just couldn’t figure out what you should do? what God might want you to do? what would be the right thing, the best thing for you to do? Thomas was feeling just that kind of frustration when he heard Jesus say, “You know the way.” It’s the frustration of thinking that maybe you should know the way, certainly that you want and need to know the way – but you don’t! 

And Jesus’ answer is not altogether or immediately satisfying. At least – it’s not a quick solution. What Thomas really wants is a GPS, with the destination and shortest route, avoiding toll roads, already calibrated, a AAA map with a big red X indicating the destination and a yellow highlighted route leading him to it. 

But what Jesus is saying is, “Thomas, I AM the map! I’m the WAY. And I’m the TRUTH. And I’m the LIFE. Stay as close to me as you can and you’ll be heading in the right direction. Make every effort to find the path that leads to the TRUTH and do everything you can to avoid the shortcuts and dead ends of what is false. And always choose the paths that bring you LIFE. Don’t head in directions that burden you and drag you down, eating away at your heart and your hopes. Choose what brings you LIFE and you’ll end up where you’re supposed to be even, if right now you don’t know where that is, or how to get there; even if right now you can’t see where I’m leading you; even if right now you can’t see me at all . . . " 

But we still can get lost – and we still do get lost. 

• We start to get lost as soon as we begin to think that we can find our own way without God’s help. 
• We lose our way as soon as we begin to believe we can discover the truth apart from God’s Word. 
• We get disoriented when, at life’s crossroads, we’re sure we will choose the right path without stopping to ask God for directions. 

But when we stay by the Lord, close to his side and let his Word map our route, and when we walk in the company of other believers, all of them seeking to follow the Lord’s way, too - then we can be sure we’re on the road Jesus asks us to travel. 

On the highways of our lives, our gathering in church on the Lord’s Day is like pulling over on the interstate, into a service area. There we find the exit we take to get our bearings. There we find rest from the hustle and hassles of our journey. There we are refueled at the altar where we’re nourished with the Eucharist to give us the strength we need to resume, to continue on our journey with the Lord as our guide. Oh how we long to return . . . oh how we need to return to our parish church! 

We need to return to our church because it is all too easy during the week to lose sight of the Lord along the way, but every Sunday we can find him at Mass: in one another, in the Word of the scriptures and in the Eucharist. It is there that He waits for us, ready to reset our GPS to the path that leads to peace. He promises to be the way for us when we’re lost, to show us the truth of things when we’re confused, and to be our life, even when we travel in the shadow of death. We so need to, once again, take the exit, pull over, come to the table and be refreshed by the One who is our way, our truth and our life. 

This is a slightly adapted version of a beautiful prayer written by the great spiritual writer and Trappist monk, Thomas Merton. Perhaps, as we feel lost in the midst of our pandemic lockdown and can't see the road ahead, we all need to be reminded that JESUS is the WAY, the TRUTH, and the LIFE and this can be our prayer:

O God, I have no idea where I’m going.

I don’t see the road ahead of me.

I don’t know for certain where it will end.

I don’t really always know my own self,

and the fact that I think I’m doing what you ask of me

doesn’t necessarily mean that I am.

But I believe that even the desire to do what’s right

does in fact please you.

And I hope I have that desire in everything I do:

the desire to do what you ask of me.

I hope I’ll never do anything apart from that desire.

And I know that if I live my life that way

you’ll lead me by the right path,

even though I may not know I’m on it.

So, I will trust you always

especially when I'm lost, even in the shadow of death.

Even then, I will not be afraid,

because you will be with me,

and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.