Wandering In the Wild: We Wish to See Jesus

John 12:20-33

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus.

Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very 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. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honour.

“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. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.”

Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

As you probably know, it’s official: spring arrived yesterday. Some of us are spring skeptics here in the north. We’ve traveled around the sun enough times to know that March can be a snow-laden month. Warm weather comes with fits and starts. One day is temperate, and overnight the cold can return with wintry gales. It takes a while for the ground to thaw and green shoots to emerge, for geese to return and ice to come off the lakes. But we know how this works. When spring arrives, our part of the globe tilts toward the sun, and the days become longer and warmer. Yesterday was the spring equinox, when nighttime and daytime are equal all around the world, the vernal equinox, when everything is fresh and new.

In the early days, spring is tentative, deceptive even with its weary wind. Crocuses pop their heads out of snow-covered leaves. Buds on trees wear camouflage. Then suddenly, spring is effusive. Grass turns eye-popping green, and azaleas shout, “look at me,” while lilacs perfume the air. Of spring, Parker Palmer says, “The gift of life is granted once again…and with compound interest.” Like seeds tucked away in a bank account, forgotten through the winter, they multiply. “Rather than hoarding life, nature gives it all away,” he says. It’s a paradox that’s known in all the world’s wisdom traditions.“ When you receive a gift, the only way to keep it alive is to pass it along.”*

Jesus knows that wisdom, and in fact, he draws on it to tell a parable: “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.” 

It’s springtime in Jerusalem, and people from all over have come to celebrate Passover. Crowds have gathered around Jesus, and some Greeks come to Philip and say, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” So he responds with the parable and adds: “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” Or as Parker Palmer says, “If we want to save our lives, we must spend them with abandon.”*

Jesus the teacher has their attention. He speaks of paradox that’s told in wisdom tales and confirmed in nature. And yet, it’s so hard. They’re hungry for what Jesus has to say. 

So here’s another parable: A few years ago, a little girl came to Bethlehem’s Minneapolis campus for Christmas. It was her first time here, at least the first time she remembered. Family traveled from out of state, and the extended family made their way to Bethlehem for worship. They sang carols, passed a plate and shared the peace.  Then the lights dimmed, they held candles and gazed at flames warming beeswax. While strains of “Silent Night” hung in the air, a baby was laid in a manger at the front. When it was over, the family went home and opened gifts. 

Months passed, and the family came to town again, this time for Easter, and they went to Bethlehem once again. They sat shoulder to shoulder as the tympani rolled and the brass played. They stood on their feet as the choir walked by. The little girl craned her neck to see what was happening when a story was told especially for kids. 

When the “Hallelujahs” ended and the crowd began to disperse, the little girl took her grandma by the hand and headed to the nursery. She looked up and down and all around, and seemed a bit disappointed, so her grandma asked, “Shall we go home and have brunch?” The little girl said, “Not yet.” 

She walked out the door with her grandma in tow, rounded the corner and pushed the button on the elevator. Down they rode to the lower level, and the little girl wandered from room to room, peering in any open doors she could find. “Shall we go home and have brunch?” her grandma asked when there was nowhere left to look, but the little girl replied, “Not yet.” 

She marched up the stairs, not one floor but two, and she walked from one end of the second floor to the other. By that time, the grandma was winded and a little anxious to get on to brunch, so she crouched down and looked the little girl in the eye and asked, “Honey, what are you looking for?” The little girl replied, “The baby. I know he’s here somewhere.”

The little girl “wished to see Jesus.” The irony, of course, was that we had just rehearsed the ultimate story of Jesus in word and song. 
…that God’s love for humanity took Jesus all the way to the cross; 
…that death would not have the last word; 
…that Jesus’ resurrection is our resurrection.

But that was not yet the Jesus she knew or was seeking. She had seen a baby and heard his name was Jesus. Even in her young life, she knew something about love — that when you give love away it lives in someone else. Like a seed planted in the ground, it bears fruit. And who better to teach us about love than babies? We’re drawn to them, and because of all they need, we give in self-sacrificing ways.  There’s power in love. You give it away, and it lives in someone else. Like a grain of wheat planted in the earth, it keeps on giving; it bears much fruit. 

The story of Jesus has come to a turning point in today’s reading. The hour has come, Jesus says. Now is the time for him to be glorified, to draw all people to himself. But what looks like glory and honor to us is paradox: “Those who love their life lose it,” he says. “And those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” 

What’s so hard for us to understand is that the glory of God is the opposite of human glory: It’s abundance found in emptying, freedom expressed in serving, life that comes through death. Too much for a little girl to articulate, and so much for us to internalize as well. 

Jesus doesn’t call us to a belief system that lives in our head.  Jesus calls us to relationship — with God and with one another. We’re not called to be spectators but to jump in, to follow him, to continue the work that he did. 

In his life, we saw abundance of grace, forgiveness and truth telling. He healed the sick and gave sight to those who couldn’t see. He broke down barriers and gave access to those on the margins. He brought new life to those weighed down in grief. 

And in his death, we saw the length and depth and breadth of God’s love. He went to the cross to show us how much God loves us. His death brought judgment on all that separates us from God:

• Greed and lust for power.
• Entitlement and a sense of superiority. 
• Violence.  

He calls us to leave those things behind, follow him and to serve, to spend our lives with abandon and carry on the work that he did. He calls us:

• To show compassion and mercy and forgiveness. 
• To weep with those who weep.
• To name truth about ourselves and systems that oppress.
• To see people on the margins and honor the image of God in them. 

He calls us, in short, to relationship. He calls us to love. Like the little girl who came to church on Christmas and Easter knew, there’s power in love. You give it away, and it lives in someone else. It binds us to the giver, and it flows out from us. It keeps on giving. And like springtime tells us, a grain of wheat planted in the earth, bears much fruit. 

It feels like we are on the cusp of a transition. Days are lengthening, and we’re drawn outside. People are getting vaccinated and are anxious to move about more freely. Change is afoot. So in these last days of Lent as we move deeper into the story of cross and resurrection, deeper into the heart of our faith, let our prayer be this: 

Stir up in us the desire to see you, Jesus. Open our ears to hear your call, and open our hearts to follow where you lead. Amen. 

*Palmer, Parker. “Spring Is Mud and Miracle.” The On Being Project, March 29, 2016, https://onbeing.org/blog/spring-is-mud-and-miracle/?fbclid=IwAR2EpUmluESE-dkJTg3XBJav39nfs9lHk_Z2_LTd8xcC8FR-TfWlA3cqpeM.