John 14:15-21

‘If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

‘I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.’

What would you say on your deathbed, your last lecture, your farewell speech? Would you offer sage advice? Share your favorite stories? Or maybe crack a few jokes you’ve learned along the way?

We don’t get much of any of that from Jesus’ farewell to his disciples. That’s what we hear from that passage from John. We are still in the season of Easter, but today we return to the words he spoke to his disciples just before his crucifixion.

At first he seems like he is doing something you're told not to do on a deathbed and that’s asking for promises. It’s as if Jesus is saying, “if you love me, promise me you’ll keep my commandments.” Talk about manipulation and guilt?! But that’s not what Jesus is after. It’s not a conditional, if/then. He’s not asking for a promise. Rather, Jesus is saying you’ll know your love for me when you keep my commandments.

More importantly, Jesus is the one making promises on his deathbed. “I will give you another Advocate and he will be with you forever”. That word for Advocate can be translated in many different ways: counselor, helper, but also comforter. Jesus is offering assurance to terrified disciples, telling them, “I cannot stay here with you, but don’t worry. I am giving you the Holy Spirit, who will be a comforter to you.”

Now that’s a beautiful promise. I’m sure the disciples needed it. I’m sure some of you need it today! But what does that mean or look like? I mean how is the Holy Spirit going to give not just the disciples, but give you and I comfort here and now, in this life?

Well I think I’ve seen that comfort in Ben Sasse, who is also giving his farewell speech. Sasse, as you may know, was senator from Nebraska, serving from 2013 to 2023. He left under his own volition and became the president of the University of Florida. Before all that, he was the president of Midland University, a small ELCA college in Midland, NE.

Since early February, Ben has been doing interviews and podcasts at breakneck speed because he’s dying. In December of 2025 Ben found out he had cancer. Actually, he found out he had five different types of cancer that had metastasized into 47 tumors, tormenting his torso and the rest of his body. They gave him 90 days to live.

Which is perhaps why you have seen clips of him or his name on your social media feed. When asked why he’s spending so much time with interviewers and journalists, he said, “I did not decide to die in public. But even with three to four months left to live, you have to redeem the time. There’s only so many bits of unsolicited advice I can give my children. So, you journalists want to talk, and if you don’t have anybody better, I’m your huckleberry.”

From all I’ve seen and heard in the talks and interviews, Ben is doing a bit of everything in his farewell speech. He cracks some jokes, he tells great stories like one explaining what’s happening in this photo of him, looking like he’s a bit hungover or had a workout (you decide), and Chuck Schumer holding a giant cig in his right hand.

And as expected he gives sage advice. Advice that comes with the clarity that, according to Ben, only comes with having a terminal diagnosis. For him, his cancer has clarified what matters and he feels a responsibility to use whatever time is left for the good of others. And while Sasse and I may be on different ends of the theological spectrum, his clarity on a number of issues is compelling.

He speaks about everything from AI to politics and the way our screens, addictions, and tribalism are reshaping us. But what I find most compelling from his farewell speech is not the advice, stories, or hot takes. Rather, it’s his regrets.

He wishes he hadn’t worked so much. He laments how much he traveled. He would have locked away phones and turned off screens at the dinner table, because you don’t get that sacred time back. He would have taken sabbath more seriously, undistracted by sports or the ever present lure of work. He would have strengthened bonds with family: siblings, cousins, parents.

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