5 Lent, Yr B: John 12:20-33
The hour has come!
This is a new proclamation. Up until this point in the Gospel according to John every reference to Jesus’ hour has been in the negative.
At the wedding in Cana, Jesus said to his mother, “My hour has not yet come.”
Later in Jerusalem we hear, “They tried to arrest him, but no one laid hands on him, because his hour had not yet come.”
Finally, in the temple, “No one arrested him, because his hour had not yet come.”
And now as Jesus reflects on the passion he is about to suffer, he cries out, “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say – ‘Father, save me from this hour’?”
But he answers himself with a resounding, “No! It is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.”
So, the hour has come for Jesus.
It strikes me that on our Lenten journeys
and our journeys in Christian life, the hour has come for us as well.
Jesus says, “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. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.”
Isn’t this what Lent is about? Losing our undivided focus on this world – dying to what this world values – those things that separate us from God.
Lent is about no longer pursuing avenues of power or prestige or wealth – those things which we are told will give us life but instead drain the life from within us.
In my study of this Gospel passage I came across a quote from St. Francis of Assisi:
“Did the Lord’s flock actually follow him in tribulations and persecutions and hunger, sickness and trial and all the rest, and thereby receive eternal life, from the Lord?
What a great shame, then, that while the saints actually followed in the footsteps of the Lord, we, today’s servants of God, expect glory and honor simply because we can recite what they did.”
That is quite a convicting statement when I think of my own life.
What have I given up to follow Christ?
Absolutely nothing.
What have I suffered for Christ?
Absolutely nothing.
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At this time of the festival of the Passover of the Jews, when some Gentiles came from across the Sea to talk with Jesus, Jesus had a choice to make. He could have chosen a life of relative safety and started hiding out in friends’ homes, laying low for awhile, curbing his preaching and teaching and healing so that he might fade into the background and save his earthly life.
But this was not his choice.
He did not choose a life of safety; instead he chose a life in which he was fully focused on God’s love for him and for the world around him. He continued to preach controversial things and not pander to the powers that be. He chose a path in life which included suffering – not as a goal – but as a by-product of radical love.
I am reminded of the Sisters of St. Mary, an Episcopal order of nuns – particularly Constance and her companions, the Martyrs of Memphis, who met with suffering and death as they offered their lives in faithful obedience to God as they ministered to people with Yellow Fever. They could have taken the “safe” way and moved away from Memphis like many thousands of others did at the outbreak of the Yellow Fever epidemic. But they chose to stay and minister to the dying, eventually all losing their own lives to the Fever.
A grain of wheat cannot grow unless it dies.
We must be willing to die – whether figuratively or literally – in order to bear fruit.
I think of the many times that I have a choice to act boldly – with radical love – and yet choose to take the easy way out, maintaining the safety of my reputation, not wanting to make others feel uncomfortable, protecting the frailty of my ego from others’ criticism.
I think of the many times I cling to the people I know rather than offer hospitality to a stranger.
I notice the times I walk downtown and cross the street to avoid a panhandler.
I know the times I avoid a call from a friend who I know is in great need because answering the phone means that I have to step into her life and share the burden of her deep, deep pain; and it hurts.
I know the times that I don’t step up and confront racist or sexist jokes
or defend the integrity of a fellow clergyperson
or confront anger or gossip
in order to not stir the waters, to not risk my life in love for another.
All too often I choose to love my safe and secure life.
What is required to live a life of radical love through Christ is transformation, and this type of transformation must be complete. This transformation is like the impossibility of being “a little pregnant.” This transformation occurs throughout our entire person.
In today’s reading from Jeremiah, we hear Yahweh speak of writing a new law within people’s hearts because Yahweh knows that it is not external laws that change human beings. We can follow the letter of the law to the last jot and tittle and yet never learn to love. The new covenant, says Yahweh, will become so deeply a part of each person that there will no longer be even a need for teaching.
It is Jesus’ life, death and resurrection that allows for this transformed heart. Because Jesus chose to lose his earthly life, he has shown us the way to abundant life.
If we will chose to chase God instead of the lures of this world, then we, too, can have a life full of abundance.
This week I came across this quote from Martha Graham – a woman who revolutionized modern dance:
“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening, that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.”
My friends, God has created each of us, you and me, with unique gifts. And we are each called to live our lives in radical obedience and love for God, being transformed by God’s radical love for us.
The hour has come.
We have a choice to make.
Each of us has a grain of wheat with which to cast our vote. The world is waiting.
