John 12:20-36 · Jesus Predicts His Death
Seeing What We Don’t Want To See
John 12:20-33
Sermon
by Mary Austin
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As we draw near to the end of Lent, how has your Lenten journey been? What spiritual practice did you add? What habit did you let go of to make room for God? I love hearing the variety of answers, such as reading a devotional each day, or dedicated time to read bigger chunks of the Bible. Maybe it is participating in a Lent Bible study or praying in a different way, just to try it out. Perhaps it is giving up a habit that distracts from God’s presence — online games, shopping, or taking your phone to bed.

As we get near the end of Lent, these Greek travelers are really us. Everything we’ve been doing in Lent, all the small groups, the dinners, the weekly communion, the reading, the praying is meant to move us closer to what they’re asking for. “We wish to see Jesus,” said these strangers. That’s our prayer, too, and the end of Lent sharpens our longing. Are we any closer than when we started, to seeing Jesus? Some of us are, I’m sure, and some of us are still hoping for a better look at him.

This story begins right after Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. The crowd of people who see him bring life out of death can’t stop talking about it, can’t stop testifying. Word is spreading far and wide. Even these strangers have heard about it and came to see Jesus. The story calls them “Greeks,” probably meaning Jews who lived outside the area and had come for the Passover. The Greeks came to Phillip and Andrew, who had the most Greek sounding names of the disciples, maybe hoping they would get the best reception from fellow countrymen.

But Jesus says no. He has never turned anyone away who came for help, that I can recall. But this time his mind was set on something ahead. He could have had a quick chat with the Greeks and moved on...but he was fixed on his purpose.

His answer here reminds me of the oft-used saying in business: “the good is the enemy of the great.” There are lots of things we could do. We have so many choices. We could take up a bunch of hobbies, projects for work, or church plans. There are lots of things we could do easily, that wouldn’t even take very much time. In a world where my attention is often scattered, I draw strength from Jesus’ reminder to fix my attention on the main thing. God is calling all of us to do a few things well... but we get distracted by all the things we can do easily or quickly or because we like to do them. Jesus is fixed on one thing now — heading toward the cross.

He set the stage for his friends by telling them that they have to let go of their own lives. If you love your life, if you hold onto it tightly, if you care too much about it, you lose it. Curious.

That same message can be translated as life, soul, or spirit. It’s whatever is at our center. If we love it too much, we’ll end up losing it; if we hate it, and let it go, we have it forever. Jesus is speaking in Aramaic, which has a characteristic way of overstating things to make a point. As an old friend of mine used to say: “I exaggerate for clarity.” Same with the way Jesus spoke. Hate your life, he told us. Strong stuff.

John’s gospel is very clear that there is a conflict between the life of discipleship and the life of the world. It’s hard to live in two worlds. Unless we become like seeds which are willing to die for a greater harvest, we will lose ourselves in chasing what we think we want. We let go of ourselves to find something greater.

But how in the world are we to do that? We’re taught to hold onto things... save money, guard our health, work hard for success. We’ll never get anything without hard work. You can’t get far if you don’t strive. All that advice is good for living in the world.

Jesus has a claim on our lives, our souls, and he’s asking us to learn to let go. And it’s not easy.

“My soul is troubled,” Jesus said. We can feel his distress, the pain of this choice. If it’s hard for him, then it’s all the worse for us. The passage says “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain.” (John 12:24) This same passage can be translated as “the grain of wheat remains alone.”

The only way to learn this kind of sacrifice is with each other. Living with partners or children, taking care of an ill friend or a parent, committing ourselves to life in a community of faith, are the only ways I know to get out of our own selfishness. It is some kind of commitment to something outside us. Our souls rub up against the needs and wishes of someone else and are shaped in the process. Out of our commitment to a church or a person or a cause, we let go of what we want... and are made into better people. Every time we repeat something to a forgetful parent... run an errand for a sick friend... play a boring game with a toddler for the thirtieth time... listen to a friend tell a story we’ve heard before... we begin to let go of ourselves. Every time we let someone else have their way...support someone in their recovery... let a child make a choice, and develop their own independence... we set ourselves aside, and practice what Jesus is talking about.

People sometimes tell me that they can find God just as well sitting outside, on the golf course, or hiking a beautiful trail, as they can at church. Of course, finding God is not the issue. God is everywhere and always.

The issue is that we never learn to let go of ourselves and our selfishness in those places. We never become better people without other people. We never grow without other people to aggravate us, to mirror our own flaws, and show us where we’re weak, and point out our silliness. We remain alone, if we don’t have that in our life of faith. The God of the golf course and the hiking trail is always going to be a pale imitation of God, because that’s all we can do for ourselves.

This is tough stuff. We would love to go back to the sweet Jesus who loves the little children, and doesn’t ask too much of us, either. But Jesus insists that he’s no simple, sweet, Wonder Bread® Jesus — he’s the real deal, rough, and tough to swallow sometimes. But he is a redeemer who can stand up to tough times, stand up to the worst we can face, and be there with us. He can stand up to the evil of his own time, and the evil of ours.

When our hearts are broken, when we meet up with pain and suffering...when the world makes no sense... when we see injustice seem to triumph... then the simple, sweet, Wonder Bread® Jesus won’t do. We need the Savior who knows how to suffer, as we suffer. We need the Jesus who understands sacrifice, and that it leads us toward God.

We are invited to be like the grain of wheat, part of something bigger, part of a life we can only glimpse on our own, until Jesus shows it to us. We need the redeemer who understands all about sacrifice and suffering, because we have to go down that road, too. And we are following him toward the cross, and toward Easter. If we see him, we can follow him, even to the end.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Ashes at the coffee shop, resurrection at the bus stop: sermons for Lent and Easter based on the gospel text, by Mary Austin