of a young Kikuyu boy named Kitau who appeared at her door in Nairobi one day to ask if he might work for her. She hired him on the spot. Kitau served her household so admirably that she was stricken when, after just three months, he asked for a letter of recommendation to a Muslim in Mombasa named Shiek Ali. Since Blixen did not want to lose Kitau, she offered to increase his pay, but he was firm in his desire to leave.

(You see, Kitau) had decided that he was going to become either a Christian or a Muslim… His whole purpose in coming to live with her had been to see the ways and habits of Christians up close. Next he would go to live with Sheik Ali for three months to see how Muslims behaved. Then he would make up his mind.

Aghast, Blixen wrote, ‘I believe that even an Archbishop, when he had these facts laid before him, would have said… as I did, ‘Good God, Kitau, you might have told me that when you came here!’ (p 93-94).

I don’t know about you, but that story caught me up short. Especially in these days when there are so many conservative Christians traipsing about the world stage causing so much damage and so many progressive Christians, such as myself, griping mightily in their wake. I can’t help but wonder what Kitau would make of any of us right now.   

If he came into my house and wanted to talk about faith, I’d be more than happy to give him a piece of my mind and explain, in detail, what I think God requires of us. But all that being said, how much would he learn just by following me around all day?

If Kitau were to move in with one of my Muslim neighbors on the other hand, he would see a whole lot. He might observe them fasting for Ramadan or taking care to ensure that any food they ate was halal. He’d watch as they paused five times each day to pray. He might see them reading scripture or setting aside money to give to those in need.

He might learn of their plans or hear the story of their pilgrimage to Mecca. And on Friday, my Muslim neighbors would gather for worship and prayer, just as we have gathered here today.

Much the same goes for my Jewish neighbors. If Kitau were to move in with them he might observe their preparations for an upcoming holy day or hear their stories of pilgrimage to Israel. All the food would be kosher. And he would find himself in a similar rhythm of daily prayer and the reading of scripture that would culminate in a sabbath day devoted to rest and worship.

Fasting, prayer, pilgrimage, and charity are all a part of our faith as well, along with the reading of scripture and the keeping of sabbath. We don’t keep any dietary laws, but we probably should because how animals are slaughtered is of great ethical concern.

And yet somewhere along the line it would seem that - in our faith - being a “Christian” has become a lot more about what you believe then what you do. Or maybe I should say a lot more about what you believe Jesus did for you than what Jesus wants you to do for others.

It’s not that the doing isn’t important, it’s just not what makes you a Christian. All those good actions are expected to flow from your belief system, but at the end of the day it’s what you believe that really matters because it’s what you believe that saves you. After all, Jesus himself said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life, no one comes to the Father except through me.”

For centuries, Christian theologians and preachers have harped on the precept that you can do all the good in the world, but if you don’t believe that Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life, you’re not going to make it to the Father’s house.

If you don’t believe that it is Jesus and Jesus alone who saves, it doesn’t matter if you’re as good as Gandhi or merciful as Mother Teresa, there will be no place for you in that many roomed mansion in the sky.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no one can boast” (Ephesians 2:8-9).

That’s not Jesus, that’s Paul.  Just one little a verse from his letter to the Ephesians. But somehow when you pair it up with this verse from John 14, combine it with a little John 3:16, sprinkle in a verse from 2 Thessalonians (1:8,9) here or Romans (3:23, 5:8) there, all of a sudden the point of this passage and our whole faith gets boiled down into an intellectual exercise…

…a litmus test where we either believe the right things or we don’t; resulting in a “dogma of exclusion” that keeps us much more focused on our own personal salvation than the salvation of this whole big beautiful world that God loves so much (SALT Commentary https://www.saltproject.org/progressive-christian-blog/2020/5/3/i-am-the-way-salts-lectionary-commentary-for-easter-5).

“Do not let you hearts be troubled,” said Jesus, but my heart is troubled if what he is really saying here in this passage is: “Relax. You believe the right things about me so you’ll be ok for eternity and to hell with everyone else.”

I’m sorry, but that interpretation makes me very troubled, very troubled indeed. Frankly, if the idea of people being shut out of heaven forever because they don’t believe in Jesus the way you believe in Jesus doesn’t trouble you, I think there might be something wrong with you.

And yes, I know that is not a very charitable way of phrasing it. I know there are good people out there who believe this is just the way it is and make the best of it by trying to convert others so they can go to heaven too. I know, because I used to be one of those people.

Honestly my reductionism stems from years of anger and frustration because I felt I had to believe Jesus was the only way to heaven in order to be a good Christian. I felt I needed to choose between loving God and loving my neighbors of others faiths, rather than just loving everyone the way Jesus taught us.

And friends, that was not only a horrible place to be, I think that kind of thinking has given Christians, but most especially white Christians, a license to do incredibly horrible things… a decidedly un-christlike permission to colonize, enslave, lynch, marginalize, re-educate, exterminate, imprison, orphan, and make war on people who look or sound or believe or even worship Jesus differently then they do.

I don’t think that is a faith Kitau or anyone else should want to be a part of, and thankfully, and here’s the real kicker, I don’t think it’s what Jesus is actually saying here. I don’t think Jesus is teaching his followers the secret handshake to the great speakeasy in the sky or giving them the password so they can get into heaven when the dust settles. If you read it closely, you’ll see that Jesus isn’t actually talking about heaven at all here. And he’s certainly not talking about the fate of people of other religions.

What Jesus is doing in this moment, is simply reassuring his closest disciples. He is letting them know that even though he is about to lose his life and they’re about to lose him, that there is still a path forward.

The “way” that has led them to the cross will also lead them through. Jesus is letting them know that he will be with them on the other side of his crucifixion, just not in the way they had hoped.

Context is key here. You need to know that this whole conversation is taking place during their last supper together.

Jesus has been poking the bear all week and things are coming to a head. The empire is about to strike back (wink) and the disciples are counting on Jesus to win on behalf of them all. They are hoping their messiah will somehow outsmart, out maneuver, or overpower their enemies and claim the crown.

But Jesus, for the umpteenth time, is trying to explain to them that he is playing to lose. His plan all along has been to go willingly to his doom like a lamb to the slaughter. Just as he needs to die before he can conquer death, Jesus needs to give his enemies the opportunity to do their very worst in order to show us that there is nothing we can do that is so awful God will not forgive us.

The disciples are, understandably, totally freaked out. And then Jesus adds insult to injury by letting them know that not only is he about to go through all of this, he’ll be going through it alone because none of them will have the courage to stand by him.

One of you will betray me - Judas. One of you will deny me - looking at you Peter. And all of you will abandon me before the night is over…yes Thomas, even you.

The disciples are incredulous. They are, understandably, upset. And so he tells them to calm down and he assures them, in classic Jesus’ style, that even though they are about to lose him, he will somehow still be with them.

And friends, in all fairness this is hard to understand - for us as well as for them - but try to follow me here. When Jesus talks about his Father’s house, they would not have heard that as a reference to heaven, but as a reference to the temple in Jerusalem.

But remember, Jesus has told him that he is the temple now, the temple that will be torn down and rebuilt in three days.

Basically, Jesus is the Father’s house, and he’s saying there is and will always be room in me - room in my heart - for you.

The real question is whether there will be room in your heart for me.

Thomas, always the literal one, wants to know how to get to this house, this place, and Jesus says, “you know the way” because you’re already on the way. It’s the same road we’ve been traveling together these past three years. It’s the way we’ve been living this whole time.

You just need to keep to that way - keep healing, keep forgiving, keep welcoming and liberating, keep sharing and loving - and I will be in you forever and you’ll be in me.

In fact - and this is the good news he really wanted them to understand - you will become even greater than me because as you embody my teachings, as you become my hands and feet in this world, as you spread the good news and live the kingdom into being, there won’t just be one of me walking around down here, there will be thousands upon thousands of people like me working to spread God’s love and justice throughout the world.

But they didn’t get it.

At least not at first. And I think for many of us it is still a struggle. For many of us it would be so much easier to look at Jesus as a savior who does it all for us, a savior, to paraphrase Brian McLaren, who lived a life of radical love and self-sacrifice so we don’t have to.

A savior who served and suffered and died… so we - the chosen few - can be happy, saved, and forgiven. A Jesus who will rescue us from the wrath of God rather than from our own selfishness, materialism, and greed, if we simply believe the right things about him, everyone else be damned.

But that’s not the Jesus we meet in this morning’s scripture. Instead, and now I’m quoting Brian, we meet a “Jesus who did some wonderful, amazing, and difficult things so that we will join him and do those wonderful, amazing, difficult things as well.”

Following in the way of Jesus is never just about you and you alone, your salvation or sanctification. It’s about allowing Christ into you so his love can pour out of you. Allowing Christ into your heart, not just so you can be part of the body of Christ like being a member in a club, but an embodiment of Christ in a world that is crying out for healing and wholeness, justice and love.

The good people at SALT put it this way: “(For John) the ultimate goal is not merely to follow Jesus, or obey his commandments,” or even believe in Jesus, “but rather to live in Jesus as Jesus lives in us.”

So I wonder: what, or maybe I should say, “who,” would Kitau see living inside of me if he came to live with me?

Who would Kitau see living in you?

“We draw people to Christ,” says Madeleine L’Engle, “not by loudly discrediting what they believe, by telling them how wrong they are and how right we are, but by showing them a light that is so lovely that they want with all their hearts to know the source of it.”

My friends, pray for me. Pray that Jesus would shine in me and I will pray that Jesus will shine in you.

Pray that our lives might be our witness.

Pray for the grace to show not tell.

May we live in Jesus as Jesus lives in us for the sake of all the Kitaus in this world that we might find our way home, together. Amen