When I hear Jesus, in today's gospel (John 15:26 - 16:4b-15), saying the words, “It is to your advantage that I go away,” I am reminded of one of my earliest childhood experiences. I was somewhere between the ages of 3 and 4 years old. And the time had come that my mother couldn't stay home any longer. She needed to go back to work, because we weren't making ends meet on just my father's wages. And so, that meant that I had to go to nursery school. And what a crisis that became!

Monday through Friday, my mother needed to drop me off by 7:30 in the morning in order for her to get to work on time. And so, she had a busy morning, making sure I was out of bed and fed and dressed and ready to go, and driving across town in rush hour traffic. But the worst of it came when she drove into the parking lot of the nursery school, parked, and turned off the keys. Because then I was awake enough to figure out what was happening, and I started to cry. I didn't want to go to nursery school! I wanted to stay with my mom!

We had an old “jeep” type vehicle. And the back seats in those days were designed very simply, like a park bench, so that between the back-rest, and the seat itself, there was an open space. And every morning... when I realized it was time to say goodbye... I would jump on the back seat, still crying like mad, slide my little legs through that open space, wedge my feet beneath the back seat, and hold on to the seat with both hands like my life depended on it. And every morning I was sure that if I just held on tight enough, it would be impossible to pry me out, and I would get to spend the day with my mom.

But somehow, every morning, she managed to get me out of the car and into the nursery school. I didn't make it easy for her, though. I imagine that I made her late for work more than a few times. She could have just said: “Shut up and do what I say, or I'll give you a real reason to cry...” That would likely have been the quickest strategy. But, instead, she was very compassionate and patient with me. In retrospect, I imagine that the situation was as hard on her as it was on me. But she knew something that I could not possibly have known at that age. She knew that, in the long run, it was better for me that she go away, not only because she needed to work, but because I needed to learn how to “lighten up”... from that very intense relationship that infants have with their mothers, so that I could begin developing friendships with other kids, and teachers, and so on. Because Kindergarten was right around the corner...

Many years later, in college, I took a course on child development, where we learned about that difficult period in the first few years of a child's life, when they start to experience “separation anxiety.” It seems that, at this age, the child's mind hasn't developed yet to the point where he or she can really understand that, just because Mom is out of sight, that doesn't mean that she's gone forever, or that she doesn't love her child any more. It seems that, at this age, the child is not yet able to hold onto a stable image of anything within his or her mind. When the child can't actually see something, or someone, it feels like they are gone for good. And so, if they can't see someone whom they know they need, this panic sets in that we call “separation anxiety.” And the child gets very clingy, and doesn't want to let the parent out of his or her sight, and cries when the parent leaves, and so on. Like the Psalmist cries out in today's Psalm: “When thou hidest thy face from us, we are troubled..”

Gradually, though, with lots of parental encouragement and support, and with the natural maturing of the brain, the child develops a stable image of the parent within his or her mind. And this is a revolutionary development... because now the child has an inner resource to turn to for comfort and guidance... and we start to see that natural shift from “clinging and crying” to “see you later, Mom!” The child starts becoming more independent. They still need to “check in” every once in a while, just to make sure that Mom is still there, but gradually they become able to stay playing for longer periods of times, between the “check ins,” and they start forming real bonds with others, instead of just with Mom.

Now, I should finish the story, or you'll be wondering how I ever made it through nursery school.

Part of my mom's morning routine as we were driving to nursery school was to use the rearview mirror to put on her lipstick, when we were stopped at a stoplight. One morning, we didn't hit a redlight until we were very close to the nursery school. And, as she was putting her lipstick on, I could see the nursery school through the window. And so I started crying and going through my usual “separation anxiety” routine. And suddenly, my mother grabbed my hand, and kissed the back of my hand.

And I looked, kind of stunned, at the back of my hand, and there was a big red kiss there. And I stopped crying for a moment. And before I had a chance to get myself all worked up again, she said, “Now, today, what I want you to do, is: whenever you get sad or worried, I want you to look at that kiss on your hand, and it will remind you of me, and that I will be back soon. And that will make you feel better.”

Well, I was amazed! This was like some kind of miracle that my mother had done. And it was right there on my hand in living color. And it was going to be there all day. And I couldn't wait to try it out. And, sure enough, it worked... just like she had said it would. And as an extra bonus, I discovered that it even smelled like my mom. So you can imagine this funny little kid, running around the nursery school... and occasionally stopping to stare at and smell the back of his hand... and then going back to play. It worked! It was like an emotional recharger for me. And eventually, when the time came for me to start kindergarten, I was able to go without even a kiss on my hand. (I still needed my special blanket, but that is another story.) The point is that I had somehow grown, on the inside, in a way that enabled me to feel secure and loved, even when my mom wasn't physically present. And that gave me a new freedom to begin exploring the world and getting to know other people, so that I could continue growing & learning.

Now why am I telling this story on Pentecost Sunday? Well, we know that God is the ultimate source of all creation. And, because of that, we are able to learn a great deal about who God is from what we discover in creation. We always find an imprint of the Creator in creation. And that is especially true when it comes to human beings, since we are created in God's own image. And so, when we see good, healthy, life-giving patterns within human relationships, we are seeing nothing less than a reflection of the goodness of God, who created those human beings. Jesus always took advantage of this in his parables – by talking about mustard seeds, the Vine and its branches, the story of how the old father responds to the prodigal son, and so on. Creation, when it's at its best, teaches us about our Creator.

And so, maybe there's something we can learn about God from these ordinary human experiences like “separation anxiety” that we have as young children, and how, gradually, with the help of good parenting, we are able to work through, and develop an inner security, an assurance that we are not alone & that we are always loved.

Maybe there's something in this ordinary human experience that we have as children that can help us better understand the meaning of Pentecost, and why God, incarnate in Jesus, tells us: “It is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Comforter – the indwelling Spirit of Christ – will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you. I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will [gradually] guide you into all truth...”

It was actually a very mysterious thing that happened to me that day in nursery school, because, when you think about it, that big red kiss on my hand was actually better, in a way, than having my mom there with me. Because it helped me to discover that there was a better way of knowing that I was well loved and accompanied than having to always be physically close to her. It enabled me to know that she had a real life, not just “out there,” physically, but also “in here,” spiritually. It was a kind of simple sacrament, a visible sign of an invisible grace, easy enough for a 3-year-old to understand and benefit from.

In Pentecost, the Spirit of Christ, is freeing us from that terribly oppressive misunderstanding that God is only “out there” somewhere, at large, and so, if we can't clearly see God in our lives, then God must surely have abandoned us. In Pentecost, the Spirit of Christ is enabling us to discover that God is also always with us “in here,” closer to us than our own breath; for we ourselves are God's temple. When that becomes really real to us, we graduate from spiritual nursery school (which is no small achievement in this world...) And the more real it becomes, the more we become the Church, the Living Body of Christ, making God really present in our world. That is God's desire: to completely inhabit us. And God will do whatever it takes to accomplish that desire... even if it means finding creative ways to kiss us on the back of our hands... so that we can be assured of his abiding, loving presence... so that we can just relax, settle down, and be his church.