I chanced to be listening to a favorite radio news station show a few days ago, when—because its election season—the programming had been commandeered by a broadcast debate between the mayoral candidates of our nearby metropolis of San Jose. The candidates are both liberal democrats, so in order to liven things up, a comedian in the audience had to ask them the obvious question: “but do you know the way?”
Whereupon all of us of a certain generation could immediately hear the refrain of the immensely popular song written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. “Do you know the way to San Jose…”
“You know the place where I am going,” Jesus said to Thomas. Throughout the Gospel of John, we encounter Jesus teaching his disciples that the dwelling place of God is not somewhere far off or foreign. I believe that Thomas did know the place. I know the place. You know the place. We just don’t always know that we know it, and we may resist the journey.
Which brings me back to Dionne Warwick’s greatest hit. If you know the lyrics, you may know that its about making peace with disappointment. The protagonist is a San Jose native who, having failed to break into the entertainment field in Los Angeles, is returning home. She knows the place where she is going—knows it all to well—but she just doesn’t want to go there.
The challenge of leading faithful lives often comes at the point where we recognize that we do know the place we have to go, and even the way to get there, but we just don’t like it. Because the way may involve surrender to a power greater than ourselves, exercising courage beyond what we think we have, acknowledging disappointment, changing habits, or forgiving someone who has hurt us. All of these ways, so to speak, will lead us deeper into communion with God. Which is the place of home for our hearts.
When we say that Jesus is both God and incarnate human—which is the ancient testimony of catholic Christianity—we are also saying that the fullness of God’s holiness resides in the messiness of human condition. In the poor and the rich, in the frightened and the brave, in the lost and the found. In the hard choices any of us make for the sake of justice, peace and reconciliation. Wherever human dignity is affirmed is the place where God is present.
Remigius, the fifth century Bishop of Rheims, was distinguished by his vigorous Nicene faith. His willingness to lead others to follow Jesus—using the particulars of his gifts and the place where God had put him—made him one of great evangelists of the early medieval period. He used his charisma, intelligence and noble connections to convert King Clovis 1 and much of the Frankish kingdom, forever changing the religious landscape of Europe.
Remigius was no stranger to the messiness of human politics, but nor was he shy to proclaim God present in the midst of it. And thereby to preserve a distinctly Christian understanding of God with us—with all of us—that has afflicted the comfortable and comforted the afflicted ever since.
I am guessing you are not called to baptize a king in Rheims. But you do know the place where God is calling you. You may not know that you know it yet, but trust your inner compass. I assure you that whatever desire brought you here today will also show you where Christ himself is.
