Fifth Sunday of Lent Yr B March 21 2021

Fifth Sunday of Lent Yr B March 21 2021

Jeremiah 31:31-34, Hebrews 5:5-10, John 12:20-33, Psalm 119:9-16

 

Location, location, location. The story we read today happens in the middle of the chaos and celebration of Passover in Jerusalem. A thousand people could be there, everyone goes. It is the center for commerce as well as where the temple is located. And, we are at the jumping off point. What comes next in John’s gospel is Jesus’ final words, all of the instructions that Jesus wants to impart to his followers, including you and me. 

 

And in the middle of all that commotion, a group of Greeks arrive on the scene. Who knows why they were there, at a Jewish festival, but they were, and clearly rather curious. They find Philip and make one of the most extraordinary requests of the entire gospel. “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Just a reminder, those who make this request are Greeks, not Jews, it is an odd request. Jesus’ last words in public are a response to this request to see Jesus. Jesus says the time has come, if you wish to see Jesus, then this is what you will see and what you must see, and it’s not all pretty or neat. In fact, it’s messy and hard. But the way of love is messy and hard, and it is the way not only we get to see Jesus; it is the way we get to bring Jesus to those who are broken and in need of healing.

 

So let us see what we can see. First and foremost is the wonderful, amazing, and somewhat frightening image of death and life. A grain of wheat remains a solitary grain unless it falls into the ground and dies; but if it dies, it bears a rich harvest. I think you gardeners out there know this truth better than most. We will be embarking on the planting season very soon, I for one cannot wait. However, I have given up on growing vegetables, especially when I can walk a few blocks to the farmers market cart and buy a tomato, and a cucumber, and an ear of corn. This year my garden will be wildflowers, or weeds, who knows. I’ll add some good dirt to my little plot, and throw some seeds into it, and watch those beautiful flowers grow. 

 

As I sort out the seeds I will sow, I am taken by their shape before I throw them to the ground. Most of them are some variety of little black blobs, some bigger, some smaller. Recently, when I was in northern Minnesota, I picked some seed pods off a morning glory plant. That plant was all dried up and brown. You see, nothing we put into the ground looks anything like what grows out of the ground. This is what Jesus wants us to see. Those bulbs under the ground that are erupting in tulips, in crocus and daffodils, are not nearly as pretty as the flowers above.

 

Ordinarily, burying something in the ground is to lose it. Or to hide it. That’s the way our culture looks at it anyway. It looks like loss. Death looks like loss. Death looks like defeat. But what Jesus tries to show us over and over again is what looks like loss to those who have eyes to see is not loss at all, but change, transformation. This is the truth of new life, this is the truth of the story we will embark upon during holy week, this is the story of death and resurrection, this is the story that claims our lives. 

 

In these days of darkness and loneliness, these days of isolation, these days of meanness and hate, I’ve been thinking about darkness, and of course light. Maybe part of the reason that death looks like loss is that we hide in the dark. We hide our lies about ourselves and others. We hide our sense of shame and inadequacy. We hide from those we love, we hide from God. We hide all our broken pieces, never to be put back together again. Hiding for so long in the dark can make us mean and hateful, it may cause addiction or maybe even be a result of addiction. That is a complicated disease. Hiding in the dark is most assuredly about denying reality. Stepping out of the dark is the most difficult thing any of us may have to do. It takes telling the truth. But stepping out of the dark is where new life begins. It is the only chance of putting the broken pieces together in a whole new way. We may be lost, but we are not defeated. Because Jesus’ light shines even into that darkness. 

 

You see, this is what Jesus means, about himself and about us, because we are all flesh and blood. Jesus’ journey to the cross and on the cross looks to the world and to the empire that murders him, like loss and defeat. Jesus was mocked and ridiculed. This is not a game with winners and losers; it is a love story. An alternate translation of verse 32 is “And in my dying, and rising, and ascending, will be the fulfillment of the promise, for God so loved the world.”

 

You see, God’s dream for creation, for you and me, is this very reality. What looks like loss or death, what feels like deep darkness, is the place where creation is made new. What is broken is put back together, it is healed. And people are strongest where they’ve been broken. And those who came asking to see Jesus were looking for this new reality, this promise of something more. This way of love and of light. 

 

Healing is God’s dream for creation. Healing and reconciliation, and right relationship. That’s what John’s gospel is all about in the end, and the beginning and the middle. God reaches into creation to take on flesh and blood, that’s the descending part. That very flesh and blood living and breathing and doing what flesh and blood does. And that includes dying. But John tells us not only that, but this amazing thing, this something more, resurrection and ascension. That’s the ascending and glorifying part. That’s also the relationship part, we are not ever left alone. No matter how dark our darkness feels, we are not alone in it. We can arise out of it, stretching toward the light. 

 

Next week begins our journey to the cross with Jesus. It will be an odd journey for us, meeting in person sometimes, meeting virtually sometimes. But no matter how you do it, please be present in these days. Be present to God’s gift of love, and healing, and new birth.