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Fifth Sunday in Lent

John 12
20Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. 21They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” 22Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. 23Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 25Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.
27“Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. 28Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” 29The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” 30Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. 31Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. 32And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” 33He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.


Everywhere you look is imperfection, but you know in your heart of hearts there is a perfect version somewhere: face it, you’re a Platonist.

You want to understand everything: and you want to be happy, and do good, and find that Goldilocks spot between the unpleasant extremes of life: you need to confess—you’re Peripatetic.

You want to live in harmony with nature, and you reject a desire for a Hummer and a spot on American Idol: so you’re a Cynic.

You’re whole life is fun, and about having fun: you’re no Hugh Hefner, but you’re certainly Cyrenaic.

Everything is a fluke, there is no plan or order, and you just want to live simply and avoid pain: Epicurean.

You want to live in harmony with nature too, but you’re not gonna get all emotional about it: Stoic.

Since you can’t prove anything anyway, you’re going to try to find a “tranquil mind.” When did you begin to practice Pyrrhonism?

So when did you begin rejecting bodily pleasure and fun impulses in order to purify your soul? How long have you been into Neopythagorean?

Okay Cicero, you’re playing the field: a little of this and a little of that, you’re into Eclecticism.

Actually, one of my favourite stories is a chance encounter between the most famous man alive (Alexander) and the most famous Cynic (Diogenes). Alexander says to the great philosopher: “I’m a big fan of yours, Diogenes, name whatever you desire, and it’s yours.”

“Just now,” Diogenes says, “I’d like you to stand aside: you’re in my sunlight.”

It is hardly a surprise that the most popular place in Greek society was the Agora, the marketplace: a place where goods and ideas were exchanged. The same haggling over dates and pomegranates extended to the world of ideas: there was an endless push-pull between competing schools, each convinced that their approach to life was better than the rest. The insanity of the place even made it into modern psychology: if you are afraid of going out into public, you are agoraphobic: literally, afraid of the marketplace.

Looking to my list of rival Greek philosophies, it wouldn’t take long to become overwhelmed, almost agoraphobic, confronted by every possible take on human living. Denying, embracing, accepting, rejecting: fun, no fun, Plato, Aristotle, Socrates, Cicero, and of course, my friend Diogenes. Like calamari on the Danforth, the whole of Greek society was marinating in ideas and always wanting more. Here’s John:

20Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. 21They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” 22Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. 23Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.”

Suddenly it’s no surprise that Greeks were seeking Jesus: they even shop for ideas on vacation. These hellenized Jews were doing what all hellenized people do: seek the truth wherever it might be found. And, what better place to look than Jerusalem? Already a famous place to pursue religious truth, and then only a third of what it would eventually become.

So what is truly happening here? How is it that the Jesus, who spends much of John’s Gospel saying “my hour has not come, my hour has not come” is suddenly saying, “my hour is come.” Is it coincidence that he declares that his hour has come moments after these Greek seekers arrive? Or would his hour have come that day nonetheless? Assuming for a moment that the Greeks did this, it would be easy to see why: a threshold is crossed, and suddenly Jesus has made the “A-list” of philosophical inquiry. When the Greeks seek you, you have gone international, and your local, itinerant days are done. Jesus has become the subject of something bigger, and now must decide.

The decision, I think, reaches back to Diogenes. Both men rejected conventional living: Diogenes lived in a rather large tub in the street, and rejected material possessions. Both men rejected fame, Diogenes of the famous story I told you a moment ago and Jesus continually saying, “tell no one.” Both men promoted virtue, Jesus with lengthy sermons and summaries of the law, and Diogenes (according to legend) carrying a lamp through Athens in daytime and saying that he wanted to shed light on an honest man.

So what must Jesus do? Greeks have scouted him, and now the world may follow. How long before Emperor Tiberius seeks him out and Jesus gets a chance to enter history by saying something clever? Let’s see: cross or clever story, cross or clever story? No, Jesus makes his choice, and insists that his “hour” has come:

Truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.

This was never a story about fame, it was a story about fruit. Being famously clever was never the goal: the goal was to transform human hearts, and this was never going to be achieved by founding a school or entertaining Greeks or finding the right turn-of-phrase. The grain of wheat must perish to become a harvest of grain, and Jesus knew that by clinging to some version of a successful life he would lose it: only by surrendering life would more life come.

Did Jesus choose to die? No and yes. No, in that the decision to crucify the Son of the Most High remained a human decision, uniquely ours to make, right up to the moment the last centurion went looking for nails. But yes, insofar as the life of Diogenes was laid out before him, the opportunity to enjoy all that he had built through three years of itinerant ministry. Call it the last temptation of Christ, the true last temptation: the temptation to sell his shares and return to the company as a consultant, without a real stake in the enterprise and free to come and go as he pleased. It was not to be.

What you see in John 12 is a crossing over: a recognition that events will unfold and decisions will be made. Some will turn to Jesus and some will turn away. The world will reject him but the whole of nature will speak. The signs will be plain but no one will see. We will bring anger and Jesus forgiveness. A curtain will tear from floor to ceiling and our innermost fabric will be repaired. Someone will say, “surely this was the Son of God.”

That fear of the marketplace will touch all of us: the growing realization that an unruly marketplace of ideas is no comfort in the face of death, it lends no meaning to the great joy we can know, it refuses to speak to the love we share, it cannot forgive. The marketplace is rejected at the end, in the moments before an impromptu parade and a meal with friends: it is rejected for being all things to all people and therefore nothing to anyone. Fame is fleeting and voices fade, but following the Way is forever, thanks be to God, Amen.

posted by michael jacob kooiman @ 5:59 AM