Sermon: John 16,1-11

Preacher:

Christopher Herbert

Date:

Sunday 19th October 2025

Venue:

Guildford Cathedral

Service:

6pm Choral Evensong

John 16,1-11

I have a great love of 15^th century Northern European painting. You probably know, for example, Van Eyck’s painting called the  Arnolfini Marriage which is in the National Gallery. It shows  two people, a man and a woman standing side by side. He is wearing a large and strange black straw hat; she is wearing a  complicated floor-length green gown. He is holding her right hand in his left hand. Above their heads is a brass chandelier in which only one candle is burning; behind them  is a convex mirror. And on the wall is the signature of the artist.

I find it fascinating, because the portrait seems to have layers of meaning. On the surface it’s about the betrothal or marriage of a couple, but the details, when understood, deepen our understanding of the portrait.

Well,  I promise I’m not going to talk for more than twenty seconds about this, but the candle above the man’s head, probably symbolizes the fact that he, the man, is still alive, whereas, the candle holders which have the remains of extinguished candles in them above his wife’s  head might indicate that she has died.

In other words, the artist has deliberately and carefully chosen the symbol of the candles in  the chandelier to enrich the meaning of the painting and  to intrigue us, the viewers. It is not a detail which we notice on first looking at the painting, but as we gaze at it, it gradually catches our attention.

I want to suggest that  we should look at the gospels in the same way. Those literary portraits were also created by artists, whom we call,  Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. And just as in the Arnolfini painting,  we don’t notice the details in the gospels at first glance but gradually we begin to do so, I want to argue that the details in the Gospels are not there by chance, any more than the candles in the Arnolfini are there by chance, but have a role to play in helping us understand the meaning of each gospel.

Take John’s gospel, for example, where, I believe we can see this happening. This evening in the Second Lesson, we heard Jesus challenging the disciples by saying to them: ‘None of you asks me, “where are you going?”’

 It is an innocent kind of question, but if we put that question in its context we shall see that it actually has a hidden  and important meaning which John hopes we will explore.

Let me explain. John has placed the question in its particular chronological setting: Jesus and the disciples have taken part in the triumphant procession into Jerusalem, and now they are gathered together with Jesus in the Upper Room. He has washed the disciples feet, and has summarised his teaching: ‘A new commandment I give you, that you should love one another.’ So far, so good. But now comes the hidden theme. It does not immediately strike the eye, but it’s a theme which runs through the narrative.

A few verses after the foot washing event, (John 13, 36) Peter asks Jesus: ‘Lord, where are you going?’ and is told ‘ Where I am going you cannot come…’

 Then a few verses after that little episode, (John 14, 5) Thomas repeats the question:    ‘Lord we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?’ And Jesus replies, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life…’

 Then the question about Jesus’ destiny occurs for the third time in Chapter 16, 5: only this time the question does not come from the mouths of the disciples, but comes from the lips of Jesus: ‘ None of you asks me, ‘Where are you going?’

Now, as an artist, I think that John has deliberately placed that theme in a slightly hidden way amongst his narrative…a bit like Van Eyck placed the lighted candle above the head of Giovanni Arnolfini. The threefold repetition of the question, ‘where are you going?’  is  too deliberate to be the product of authorial chance. It’s  there so that we the readers shall be intrigued. It provokes us to ask, ‘ Can we find the answer to the question?’

I think we can…I think it refers not only to Christ’s own journey towards God in heaven, but it also refers, (doesn’t it?), to our own human destiny. At the beginning of John 14 we find these hauntingly lovely words: ‘Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also…’

Now, suppose that to be true. Suppose that those words refer to you, to me, to each one of us here this evening?

John has painted a portrait of our Lord which is subtle, nuanced, and half-hidden, but it’s a portrait which declares with joyous confidence and bravura brush strokes, that life with God through Christ awaits every one of us. And our death, no matter how sombre and awful the prospect, is therefore the gateway to eternity and to love and joy everlasting.

 For that great and gracious gift, may God be thanked and praised…

 

 The Rt Revd Dr Christopher Herbert