Lent 5

John 12:20-36
20Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. 21They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” 22Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. 23Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24Very 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. 25Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

27“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. 28Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” 29The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” 30Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. 31Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. 32And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” 33He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.


I once served a church whose population was made up mostly of older adults. I presided at a decent number of funeral services for the members of that congregation as they passed on, and I came to know the liturgy we United Methodists use for the service of death and resurrection quite well. Especially poignant for me are the words said and shared at the place of burial: “Jesus said, ‘Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but it if dies, it bears much fruit.’” I have stood at many a graveside saying these words that I prayerfully hoped were received as comfort in a time of mourning. I have said them over the lives of those whom I have not known well and those whom I have known and loved as if they were members of my own family. They have come to be a kind of portal for me from this life to the eternal, representing both the loss of what we hold dear in this life and the gain of the life that is to come, the resurrection proven and promised to us in Jesus Christ.

It’s a paradox that the world in which we live is hesitant to accept. We do not or cannot embrace the idea that in order to be faithful to the Christian life there are things we may have to lose, pain we may have to feel. Our society tells us that success is all about gaining: gaining wealth, gaining status, gaining the right size house and the right brand of car, sending our kids to the right schools. We value what looks right, not necessarily what is right. We experience pain and loss as things to be avoided. As Australian theologian William Loader puts it,

“Pain is real, even for the triumphant, confident Jesus of John[‘s gospel]. Pain is sometimes the path of truth and its avoidance a denial. Not exactly the theme of a society which flees from pain.”

On the other side of the coin, there is something that is safe about dwelling in loss, isn’t there? There is a safety in mourning over a single grain of wheat that never was able to produce any fruit to speak of, perhaps never put in the right situation in which to grow. The world was unkind to it; woe are we who knew it and feel the loss of that grain and all its potential. Sound silly? Listen to us when we talk about jobs we have lost, relationships we have lost, the sad situations in which we find ourselves from time to time and how we were right there, ready with our single grain to make something grow, but we just never got the chance and it withered away before we ever had the right opportunity to grow. Death is about the only thing in life we cannot escape or make excuse for so that we don’t have to own up to the permanent loss we experience and over which we have absolutely no control.

Even here in the twelfth chapter of John, Jesus is trying yet again to share with his disciples what is about to happen to all of them. They are in Jerusalem. The cross is not to far away now. They are at what the language of music calls the penultimate step in the journey to Jerusalem: this is the next-to-last moment—one of mourning for what was while what will come to pass is still a short ways off in the distance.

Those moments of standing at a grave where a body is just about to be laid to rest call into my mind images of Jesus in the garden. While there is certain finality in the images of caskets, dirt, and shovels all around, there is still a moment of “it’s not over yet” to be felt and lived by the loved ones starting with deep sighs into the last moments of the presence of the beloved’s body in front of them. And yet, they are to get up from those chairs covered in velour, step out from under that tent, and go forward into life—a new way of living without the one whose body has just been officially turned over to death. Jesus knew that this moment was coming for the twelve and the crowds who had come to follow him and love him everywhere he went. He wanted to prepare them for the penultimate step and the ultimate reality: it would be difficult losing him. His death would be tragic, and their sense of loss would be great. But there would still be much life to be lived and joy to be had in the days and months to come after his resurrection.

And so he was still teaching them about this journey of faith that we share with them even today. They had grown accustomed to the parts of the faith journey that were joyful: healing, teaching, perhaps even the spiritual high of challenging the leaders of the synagogue on matters of God’s goodness rather than blind adherence to and, therefore, distortion of God’s law. They had gotten used to following their leader. To consider the death of Jesus, and even his resurrection was to consider that everything would change forever. Their beloved leader would no longer be with them. The synagogue might treat them even more unkindly than they had been treated before. Who would heal the sick? Who would raise people from the dead? Who would teach in parables? What would happen to this life, this movement they were living day to day? It wasn’t even a question of what they would lose but how much they would lose when they lost Jesus. I believe that if I were in their shoes I might be gathering up all the single grains I could find that were falling to the ground and trying as long and hard as I could to hold them together until someone or something else came along that could bind them together into bread for the world again. Grace, hope, risk and wisdom, light: it’s all well and good when Jesus is there to direct the journey. But the thought of going it alone? That must have been terrifying for those who had been his closest friends and companions.

Could they even see what was to be gained by his crucifixion and resurrection? We know that for days afterward they hid in a locked room for fear of being discovered as his disciples. Still trying desperately to gather up all those grains of wheat before they fell to the ground to be trampled by the mob of nay-say-ers and people poised in the most annoying “I told you so,” stature, the companions of Christ were not yet able to see the power of the resurrection at work in their lives or in the world. They could not yet know what they stood to gain by continuing the ministry of Jesus—a ministry of healing, love, forgiveness, mercy, and grace in a world that was broken, unloved, grudge-holding, unkind, and unjust. Would they be bound by the regret of having lost years of livelihood that they surrendered when they said yes to the call to follow Jesus? Would they be torn apart by loneliness for the “good ole days” when they got to live with Jesus who healed, taught, and transformed the world in their everyday journey together through life? There was a lot at stake.

And so there is for us. There is a lot at stake when we enter into the journey of faith with Jesus. He calls us, not just into belief in his identity as Son of God, Savior of the world, but also to a life lived in that belief. That means that we believe that God really did love us enough to send God’s Son, and that Christ loved us enough to come to us. Jesus was, in the words of the prophet Jeremiah, the new covenant God made with us, and we are to take an active part in living out that covenant. And the reward of faith is not great riches, the easy life, the best of all things. It will from time to time be pain and loss.

Have you lost relationships in your life because of your faith in Christ? Have you lost jobs or the possibility of work because of your faith? Have you had to set aside pleasures of life because enjoying them meant that someone else had to do without? Have you sacrificed material possessions so that you could contribute to the needs of the community of faith? Have you made changes in your life and life’s schedule because of your commitment to the church that have made it hard to do other things you might have wanted to do?

Yet what there is to gain by living in relationship with God in Christ! Have you felt the strength of your own spirit increased in prayer when you spend one-on-one time with God, both speaking and listening? Have you found joy in the holy occupation of attending to the life of the church when you’ve taught or participated in Sunday school or a small group? Have you found that your own life and faith are increased a hundred fold when you give back to God’s work a portion of what you have received?

Take time to consider along your faith journey what you have gained because of your relationship with God in Christ. Look around at the friends and community of support and encouragement you have here. Think of the opportunities you have found to serve others and the warmth it has brought to your heart because you answered the call of Christ to love your neighbors. Consider how your heart has been changed by the experiences you’ve had in the study of scripture and the Christian life you have lived in community here. And remember the joy of knowing that God is always there with and for us, in every situation, making something special out of the lives we’ve been given to live.

The journey of faith, which we have taken time and care to observe in this holy season of Lent, is one of loss and gain. It is one of death and life. Thanks be to God for the death and life of Jesus that shows us that pain is going to happen, but it is not the final thing. Life will come, joy will be restored, and God, eternal, will be with us every step of the way.

Amen.