John 13:31-38 · Jesus Predicts Peter’s Denial
Getting and Giving
John 13:31-38
Sermon
by Glenn E. Ludwig
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Solomon Grundy,
Born on Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday.
This is the end of Solomon Grundy.

It is an old nursery rhyme that some of you may recall. Now, I'm not suggesting that we use it to replace the gospel text for today, but I did begin with it because it picks up one of the central themes of our text: the shortness of life on this earth. Jesus said to his disciples: "I am with you only a little longer." In fact, throughout this section of John's gospel, from chapter 13 through 17, this section we call the Final Discourse of Jesus, this theme of the shortness of life is reiterated again and again.

Jesus seems to be emphasizing to his disciples, since they were the objects of this discourse, that life is short and that he would only be with them for a short time. If we looked at the beginning of this 13th chapter of John, we would see immediately that Jesus is right. Judas had just left the last supper to betray him, and he knew that in a short time he would be separated from his friends, arrested, tried and crucified. For Jesus, at this point, death was his destiny and not one that was very far off. And looking at Jesus' life and ministry, it was, indeed, a short time. His ministry covered but a short span of three years or less, depending on which gospel account you follow. The life he lived was but 33 years as best we can determine: a short life by any standards. So, one of the points Jesus seems to be making throughout this discourse is that we should make the most of the time that we have. He seems to be saying to his disciples: "Pay attention! We haven't got long and you need to hear what I have to say."

Anyone who has had a serious illness or has lost someone close to them knows only too well how short life can be. I hear again and again, the sadness that people face in the death of loved ones over those things that were left unsaid or undone because we just didn't get around to them. We always thought there would be time later. Or, we were too stubborn to put our egos aside and risk resolutions where avoidance had been the order of the day. So, the question becomes, how do we make the most of the life that we have? With life being all too brief, how do we get the most out of life? The world has an answer. The world tells us to "go for it"; to "live life to the fullest"; to "reach for the golden ring"; to "grab for what we can get." We've heard those answers. We hear them constantly in the commercials on television. We are told that life can be full and we can get the most out of it if we "go for it." Just listen to the message behind the advertising push to buy or use a particular product, and that is precisely what you will hear. Life is short, so live it to the max.

Now, the gospel has a different answer. How do we get the most out of life? By losing it. By giving it away. Jesus said no less than 13 times: "The person who seeks to save his (or her) life will lose it, but whoever loses his life, that is whoever gives it away, doesn't try to hoard it, doesn't seek to hold it tightly, whoever loses his life will find it." And to make the point even clearer, this Jesus showed everybody who had eyes to see and ears to hear just what it meant. He gave himself away for others again and again and again. He was, as some have dubbed him, a "man for others."

His first miracle at Cana was to make people happy at a wedding feast. His last miracle was to replace Malchus' ear so that he would be whole again. And he never counted the cost of giving himself to and for others -- even to giving his life on that cross. Do we want to get the most out of life? Then we need to hear the message of the gospel that encourages us to give it away -- because only by doing that can we really find out what life is all about. It is the paradox of Christian living, and it is true.

In sermon preparation this week, I ran across a wonderful fable titled "The Dance of the Heart." It is a fitting parable for the message of the gospel to us this morning. Once upon an ancient time in a distant land lived an emperor and an empress, who had a son and a daughter. The children, as children will, often quarrelled and nagged each other in ways that distressed their wise and loving parents. They often argued about who would get the larger inheritance. "Perhaps we have spoiled them," said their mother. "They are too often concerned only for themselves."

"This is not a good quality for future generations," said their father. And so the parents discussed how to prepare their children to be the next rulers of the kingdom. When the children were old enough, the emperor and the empress called them to the throne room. "Our gift to you is a wheat field ready for sowing," they said. "The harvest of your hearts at the end of the growing season will tell us if you are ready to take your rightful place in the kingdom." The children weren't sure if they understood their parents' wishes, but they did understand farming, and set off, delighted, to plant and tend the field. They worked very hard together, which wasn't always easy. When their first harvest came in, they were proud indeed. "See the wheat we have grown with our own hands! Let us build a storage place for the grain. Then we will have some for now and some for later. Perhaps this is the lesson we are to learn."

So they set about to build a barn in which to store their harvest. The day came for the emperor and empress to visit. "Mother and Father," said the young prince, "see the wheat we have grown and how much we have saved for the winter!" "Very good, my children," said the emperor. "Your minds are certainly working. Your hearts, however, are still sleeping. We will come to visit you again next year."

Once again the children plowed and planted. Once again they had a good harvest. When they gathered their grain, they said, "Let us put some away and trade the rest for other goods." They hurried to the marketplace, where they bartered their grain for many things, and then took their treasures home. "Now," they said, "let us give our parents gifts for all their kindness." The parents came for their annual visit and once again inspected the work of their children. They received their gifts and thanked the prince and princess warmly. "My children," said the mother, "your hearts are no longer sleeping. Your hearts have learned to walk; now, you must let them dance. We will come again next year."

When harvest time came the children were puzzled. What were they to do with this year's harvest? They decided once again to save some of the crop and to take the rest to the market place. "This time let us not be in such a hurry," the young prince suggested. And so they set out. On the road they met a mother and two bouncing children carrying their grain to market. Just as the prince and princess were about to pass them, the children tripped their mother and all three tumbled to the ground. The grain in the woman's basket tipped over, and the wind blew most of it away. The children grew silent, and the mother did not get up. "Here," said the young princess rushing to her aid, "let me help you."

But the woman said, "It is no use. All that I have has danced away in the wind. Now my children will be hungry when winter comes." The small children tried to comfort their mother. "It's all right," they said. "The wind has given the grain to the birds. They are hungry, too." The dance of the wind brought back the words of the emperor and empress. Suddenly, the prince and princess saw with new eyes. "We shall share our grain with you," they said at once. They hurried to pour some of their grain into the woman's basket, and helped her on her way.

After the family had gone, the young prince said to his sister, "My heart has skipped a beat! I do not know," he continued, "if that is from its dancing, or from fear that we will not have enough grain for ourselves when we get to the marketplace." "When two people dance," the princess wisely replied, "one person leads and the other follows. If we let love lead and fear follows, then our hearts can dance without tripping. Let us practice this step in the marketplace." And so they did. To their surprise, they saw many people in the marketplace in need of one thing or another. They gave a little grain here or a bartered good there or an act of kindness somewhere else. Each time they gave, they found their hearts no longer skipped quite so anxiously. At the end of the day, their baskets were considerably lighter -- but so were their hearts. When the emperor and empress saw how the young prince and princess had begun to share their gifts with all who lived in the kingdom, they finally trusted them to rule.

The children never forgot the lesson they learned. Each year, their love led them to give a little more, and to keep a little less. And their hearts danced. I realize that the sermon this morning sounds dangerously close to being a stewardship sermon (and here you thought it was safe to come to church in spring). If that's how it sounded to you, then, perhaps, you have heard it correctly because the Christian life is the life of stewardship. Someone once said that stewardship is everything we do after we say, "We believe!" And the paradox of Christian living is very simply that we get the most out of life when we learn to give it away and not clutch it to ourselves in feverish concern for self. We get by giving. And, as the story goes, our hearts will learn to dance. Amen."

CSS Publishing, Lima, Ohio, Walking To...Walking With...Walking Through, by Glenn E. Ludwig