“I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

Hearing this declaration can be sustaining and foundational–the bedrock of a person’s Christian identity. But not always. When I see these words, I sometimes flash back to my adolescence, when my relationship with Jesus was, let us say, fraught; I was caught between a desire for a deeper spiritual life, and a feeling of alienation from the cool kids who attended YoungLife meetings and shared an exclusive bond with Jesus and one another. I, with my doubts and questions and fascination with grey areas, felt left out by those who had taken a leap of faith that I didn’t feel comfortable with. (And of course, feeling left out of anything is a special kind of trauma for a teenager.) The cool kids said that Jesus had the answers, but they must have been asking him different questions, because most of the time I just got more questions, or worse, silence. So, Jesus and I (and the cool kids) remained at a distance.

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”

The writer of John intended this to be a foundational description of Jesus’ identity as God incarnate, entwined with, and beloved of, the Holy One.

But this statement is not always seen that way. The declaration that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, has become weighted with historical and cultural baggage. For many it acts as a password for inclusion within the Christian family, and on the surface that makes sense. As Christians, we have a Christian point of view, and to see Jesus describe himself as not only one with God but also (and crucially) the human connection between Creation and Creator is something we may take for granted as the bedrock of our faith. But a password for inclusion can too easily be used as a criterion for exclusion–not just for leaving those who are not like-minded out, but going so far as to deliberately marginalize and demonize others as well. This past week the Church remembered the Martyrs of the Reformation; both Protestants and Catholics, who were willing to die for their faith. And by extension we also remembered with contrition those Protestants and Catholics who were willing to kill for theirs. So, this isn’t just about being one of the cool kids. Like rock, that can on the one hand be a cornerstone, or on the other hand be used as a weapon, Jesus’ declaration that he is the Way, the Truth, and the Life needs to be handled with care.

The context is important, in what is known as Jesus’ Farewell Discourse; four chapters in which Jesus outlines major themes; of identity, love, discipleship, community, and the gift of the Holy Spirit. It’s important to bear these in mind as we interrogate Jesus’ description of himself as Way/Truth/Life. We need to ask ourselves; how do we interpret Jesus’ statement of identity in a way that aligns with these themes?

Good question.

The setting for the Farewell Discourse is the Upper Room at the end of the Last Supper. Jesus has washed the feet of his disciples; he has spoken of betrayal to Judas, of denial to Peter, and of love to all of his friends. Now Judas has gone out, the meal is finished, and the remaining eleven are all too aware of this precarious moment, even if they are unsure of exactly what is to come. 

They are anxious, and afraid.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled.”

Jesus tries to reassure his friends. He reminds them of their faith and their faithfulness; that they are equipped, though they may not realize it, for whatever will come. He reminds them that the Dream of God, like a house with many rooms, is capacious enough for all of God’s beloved children. He assures them that they are wiser than they think, and that they know where he is going. But Thomas, being Thomas, needs the details.

“Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”

“I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

And there it is, the declaration that has launched not just missionary journeys and a history-changing movement of love, compassion, and justice, but also crusades, persecutions, colonialism, imperial expansion, and religious fundamentalism. 

This Jesus, described in First Peter as a cornerstone, chosen and precious; this Jesus, entwined with God and humanity like a flourishing vine: How did this Jesus become a double-edged sword, at once a cornerstone and at the same time a weapon of coercion aimed at those who do not fit in–not only those who aren’t Christian, but also those who don’t believe in the right kind of Jesus, whatever that means?

Is this really about being right about Jesus? Or something else?

“I am the Way…”

I recently read just enough to be dangerous about something called egocentric bias, which is basically described as people’s tendency to see things as more centered on themselves than is actually the case. (My mother used to call it “center of the world syndrome.”) Under the influence of egocentric bias, we might see Jesus’ statement from the standpoint of one who is focused on himself as the center of attention. Because that is what we would do. 

I am the Way…

But that’s not the only way to read it.

In Exodus 3:14, Moses asks God to tell him God’s name. The response: 

 

“God said to Moses, ‘I AM WHO I AM.’ … ‘Thus you shall say to the Israelites, ‘I AM has sent me to you.’”

“I am who I am.” This is the rough articulation of the unspeakable name of God who is Being itself. It is often represented by the letters YHWH, and if spoken it would be said, Yahweh, or better still simply breathed; inhale, “Yah”, and exhale, “Weh.” In this vocalization we experience God as the breath of life in which we participate as we breathe in, and which we share every time we breathe out.

Well now, isn’t this a digression? 

The point is that Jesus himself used these same words, “I am” to describe himself as Bread of Life, Light of the World, the Door/Gate, the Good Shepherd, the Resurrection and the Life, the Vine…

…and as the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

I AM the Way…

What if Jesus is not simply referring to himself as a distinct and unique being–the Jesus that is to be revered and worshiped as Messiah and God’s son? How does emphasizing the words I AM–instead of I am–change the equation? 

Biblical storyteller Richard Swanson writes that Jewish teachers postulate that when you encounter the Divine Name, you are seeing a divine attribute in action; in the case of YHWH, acts of rescuing, nurturing, claiming and protecting. Or more succinctly, acts of mercy. 

In other words, to speak the name of God is to speak of mercy and justice. 

I AM the Way, the Truth, and the Life…

MERCY is the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father, except through MERCY.”

This changes things. It’s not just about Jesus. Or more to the point, it’s not about Jesus unless it’s about mercy. 

The stakes are high. When we live in a world where people would rather shoot each other than listen to one another; in which the powers of division threaten to overwhelm the connection of community; in which it more important to be right than to show humility and vulnerability; in which it is easier to throw stones than to build with them:

In this world, in this moment, we don’t need to worship Jesus. We need to take a deep breath, and follow him.