Fifth Sunday in Lent
John 1220Some Greeks [g] had gone to Jerusalem to worship during Passover. 21Philip from Bethsaida in Galilee was there too. So they went to him and said, "Sir, we would like to meet Jesus." 22Philip told Andrew. Then the two of them went to Jesus and told him.
23Jesus said: The time has come for the Son of Man to be given his glory. [h] 24I tell you for certain that a grain of wheat that falls on the ground will never be more than one grain unless it dies. But if it dies, it will produce lots of wheat. 25If you love your life, you will lose it. If you give it up in this world, you will be given eternal life. 26If you serve me, you must go with me. My servants will be with me wherever I am. If you serve me, my Father will honor you. 27Now I am deeply troubled, and I don't know what to say. But I must not ask my Father to keep me from this time of suffering. In fact, I came into the world to suffer. 28So Father, bring glory to yourself.
A voice from heaven then said, "I have already brought glory to myself, and I will do it again!" 29When the crowd heard the voice, some of them thought it was thunder. Others thought an angel had spoken to Jesus.
30Then Jesus told the crowd, "That voice spoke to help you, not me. 31This world's people are now being judged, and the ruler of this world [i] is already being thrown out! 32If I am lifted up above the earth, I will make everyone want to come to me." 33Jesus was talking about the way he would be put to death.
April is anticipation month. April is the beginning of the end of the long wait for pretty boats that sit in parking lots to be plucked from their cradles and returned to their rightful place in the water. It goes against nature for a boat to spend time out of water, and it contradicts all human reasoning to live in a place where boats are out of water from October to May.
Anticipation month also happens out my back door. There, in the gray and muddy reality of my garden, lay the hopes of the season to come. Looking out, I see the tangled remains of last year's effort, mint beginning to appear green again, the tall stems of the Black-Eyed Susans and the Columbine I failed to deal with.
I make the Columbine sound like troublesome children. Yet in failing to deal with them, I have made more work for myself than I needed to. I will explain by reading from gardenguides.com:
Most columbines tend to self-sow. The taller types tend to self-sow more readily than the dwarf types.... If you enjoy the cycle of self-seeding, my suggestion is to let them try the first year. If you don't like the results, it's easy enough to remove the seedlings in future years.
Easier said, of course, than done. For you see the gentle phrase "self-sow" doesn't really give justice to a plant that creates dozens of seed pods, held aloft, each containing numerous seeds that left to their own devices will "self-sow" to complete chaos. It is nature's way, it seems, to maximize the potential for life by creating an extravagant number of seeds and playing on the weakness of the inattentive gardener. I can remember the mental conversation when I said to myself "self, those seed pods represent a little bit of work now or a whole lot of work later." The rest of the conversation is a blank.
The underlying theme here is potential. I know where the Hosta will appear one day, right where I planted it. Now I see only the withered remains of last year, but beneath the soil is a magnificent perennial that will please the eye for nearly half the year.
***
Jesus said, "The time has come for the Son of Man to be given his glory. I tell you for certain that a grain of wheat that falls on the ground will never be more than one grain unless it dies. But if it dies, it will produce lots of wheat."
Search John's Gospel for the word "time" and these words come up:
The time will come
My time hasn't yet come
It was almost time
His time had not yet come
And then finally, in chapter twelve, Jesus said, "The time has come--the time has come for the Son of Man to be given to his glory." Imagine the reaction of the disciples, steeped in the message that the time is coming to suddenly be confronted with the idea that the time is here. They are confronted by the message that the time is here and then confronted by the seeming incomprehensibility of the message: "a grain of wheat that falls on the ground will never be more than one grain unless it dies. But if it dies, it will produce lots of wheat." Granted the twelve were primarily fishermen, but living closer to the agrarian world that surrounded them, they would have readily understood the principle of seedtime and harvest. What would have puzzled them was the application of such a principle to the life of God's chosen one. Garden references are nice, but what do they have to do with the end of Roman occupation and the beginning of a new, more faithful government with Jesus on the throne?
And it gets worse. The "crazy talk" that has Jesus suddenly reflecting on death also reflects a shift in mood, a troubling lack of confidence from the one that worked signs and miracles and raised the dead to life:
Now I am deeply troubled, and I don't know what to say. But I must not ask my Father to keep me from this time of suffering. In fact, I came into the world to suffer. So Father, bring glory to yourself.
I want to pause here amid the trouble and the potential for suffering and read a bit from one of my favourite books:
This book is about the vital bond between our losses and gains. This book is about what we give up in order to grow. For the road to human development is paved with renunciation. Throughout our life we grow by giving up. We give up some of our deepest attachments to others. We give up certain cherished parts of ourselves. We must confront, in the dreams we dream, as well as in our intimate relationships, all that we never will have and never will be. Passionate investment leaves us vulnerable to loss. And sometimes, no matter how clever we are, we must lose."
Perhaps you are thinking "grim choice for your list of favourite books there, mister" and you would be right. The book is called Necessary Losses and in it Judith Viorst recounts every loss that humans experience from the harsh reality of leaving the comfort of our mother's womb to the last breath we draw. After four hundred pages of losses even the biggest Pollyannish person will say "perhaps my persistent proclivity for a positive perspective prohibits a proper point of view." Or something like that.
Jesus said, " If you love your life, you will lose it. If you give it up in this world, you will be given eternal life. If you serve me, you must go with me." The disciples took up the invitation to follow Jesus, to follow in his way, and live a life of some renunciation. They left family and community. They left jobs and the familiar. They left safety as they entered unfamiliar places. But these losses were minor compared to the implications of following a master who only now reveals that he came into this world to suffer.
I think there are some important points to lift up here. First, Jesus did not want to suffer, and the fact that it was coming was deeply troubling for him. Second, he was unwilling to ask God to take away this suffering, knowing full well that suffering and loss are at the centre of what it means to be human. And finally, he knew that his suffering, as horrible as it would be, would somehow bring glory to God. Note that this idea appears twice in this short passage in John, and each time remains as vexing as ever. How could Jesus' suffering bring glory to God? Why was Jesus willing to be "given to his glory" so willingly, even if the suffering he faced was part of the human story? Some of these questions will hang until Good Friday, when we try to find the "Good" in Friday and try to redeem the most terrible suffering, because not to try would be a great insult to the one who suffered on our behalf.
Perhaps the most we can do at this moment is to look honestly at loss. What have you lost? What do you value most and dread losing? Which losses have been easier and which too hard to bear? And in thinking about loss, which losses resulted in unexpected gain? When did the fear of loss lead to the recognition that some losses are not just challenging but may, in fact, be welcome?
Back in the garden very briefly, the underlying theme is potential. In the muck and the remains of last years garden is the potential for beauty and new life. In the loss of what was remains the potential of what will be. In the suffering to come will be the mystery of redemption and the glory that belongs to God alone.
The time is almost here when we will be confronted by the death of the one who entered the world to bring us life. Finding meaning in this death is very near the top of the job description of every Christian. Luckily for us, the clues to finding meaning are not-so-cleverly-hidden in our life together. It is hidden in the font, it is on the table with the bread and the wine, it is in our fellow travelers on the path of faith. Search while there is time, and may God bless you and your search. Amen.
posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 7:13 AM
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