I can remember the first time, as an adult, that I witnessed a theological sparring match. I had not been going to church very long and, frankly, the verdict was still out on whether I’d continue. I was attending a Rector’s forum on a Sunday morning and the topic was something from John or perhaps Evangelism, and the subject of who got to go to heaven came up as did this Gospel: “I am the Way, The Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except by me.” One of the more fundamentalist congregants insisted, with some vehemence, that this meant only Christians went to heaven. The Rector countered with a more generous understanding, although what he said didn’t make a lot of sense, as he took the path of Trinitarian theology and may have even used words like hypostatic union and co-inherence. The “debate” stirred up quite a bit of emotion, and raged on, leaving me sitting in the corner thinking about my non Christian friends and what this scripture might be saying about them. One of my oldest friends was Jewish, and I’d seen how generous, courageous, moral and socially conscious her family was. Was this verse saying that they weren’t part of God’s household just because they didn’t believe in Jesus as Son of God? Some seemed to think so but I couldn’t buy that.

            Thankfully, the years have given me time and opportunity to learn and reflect on this subject, and here are a couple of the things I’ve learned and conclusions I’ve reached. First, text does lie at the very heart of John’s understanding of Christian identity. It speaks to the core of what distinguishes a follower of Christ from other followers of others ways and other truths and other promises of life. But, it is not a proof text for Christian triumphalism or exclusivity. Remember, at the time John could have cared less about one-upping the Buddhists or the Hindus or the Eskimos or the Muslims—or even the Jews—by including these words. First, John never knew a Buddhist or Hindu or Muslim, and second, his little sect had no power or preeminence in society whatsoever. How were they going to lord it over anybody with their ecclesiastical clout? Have prayer breakfasts in the Forum in Rome or form the Christian Coalition of Jerusalem? Not a chance. They barely surviving. So this isn’t about triumphalism, this is about blessing.

            Second, John’s Gospel is peppered throughout with a series of “I Am” sayings. I am the way, I am the vine, I am the bread of life. Those words—I Am—echo the sacred name of God—Yahweh—translated “I am who I am” or “I will be who I will be”, so when Jesus says them he is speaking not so much as the human Jesus of Nazareth, ex-carpenter turned preacher, son of Mary, but out of the voice of the eternal Word of God. He speaks, in other words in the voice and character of God’s divine Word, that concept, vision, thought from which everything came into being and which undergirds and permeates all of creation. As St. Maximus, The Confessor, prayed: “The Word of God, which is God wills in all places and at all times to work the mystery of embodiment.” This is about being in relation to the Word—the mindset or purpose or pattern, we might say—of God. Get in that relation you’ll be led to some unique understandings of God.

            We often read this passage of John at funerals and I think because of that there is an unconscious tendency to equate “life” with “afterlife”. While afterlife is part of what Jesus points to, it is not all of what he points to, for “life” includes everything that happens before we die as well. We make many ways throughout our life, and follow many paths, some holy, good, true, some not so holy, good or true. I read recently that just after 9-11 there was a dramatic increase in church attendance and in gun sales—two very different ways of responding to the life before us. It is almost as if our collective mind was thinking that we can believe a God who will preserve our future beyond the grave, but we’re not so sure about this side, so maybe we’d better take matters into our own hand, make our own way.

Long before Christianity was called Christianity, it was referred to simply as “The Way”. The way was the way of Christ, the pattern of his life, his death, his resurrection. Follow Jesus along that way and you will come to a unique perception about the person and nature of God and God’s relation to his children. Follow in the way of the Cross and empty tomb and trust in the truth of this way of living and you will come to a knowledge of God in a wholly new and unprecedented manner, as “Abba, Father”. That is, you come into a relation with God that presumes a preposterous familiarity and intimacy and confidence—that same kind of relationship that a toddler instinctively has for a beloved parent.

Follow the Word of God in Torah, in Islam, in Buddhism, you’ll be led to relate to God in other ways; follow other paths, and you may be led to not relate to God at all. 

But Jesus says to follow him and you will come to a special place prepared for you, a special place in the many roomed mansion of God.

            What is God’s mansion? Well, it’s not his castle in the sky. God’s mansion is that place where God dwells, it is all of creation throughout all eternity. It is that place where God lets his hair down, is most truly who God is, without pretext or projection. Have you ever wondered if God has a favorite room in his house? I know that I have a favorite place in my house where I go to really feel at home. Think that God has a similar place? I suspect so. It’s the room where those who know they need the life giving mercy of God reside.

            There’s a story of a disciple sitting at the feet of his master when the master said, “God is closer to sinners than to saints.” “How can that be?” asked the disciple. The elder replied, “God in heaven holds each person by a string. When we sin, we cut the string. Then God ties it up again, making a knot—bringing the sinner a little closer to God. Again and again sins cut the string—and with each knot God keeps drawing the string closer and closer until the string disappears.