Lent 5: Serving

John 12:20-33

John 12:20–33 NRSV

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 honor. “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 judgment 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.

We’ve lived in our home for just over 10 years. For a good portion of our time there, I’ve been reluctant to root up old plants or put seeds into the ground or prune things back. I’ve feared killing things, damaging trees or bushes, and therefore I’ve resisted touching them.

But last year, we began to hack back the rhodies, uproot the dead bushes, trim back the trees.

And while I worried that it was too much or that things might not return to fullness, what I’m witnessing now is that new life comes only through this process of letting things die. Growth comes from letting things go. The way to life comes through letting go of control and, instead

Jesus tells the parable of the wheat falling to show that fruit comes from letting go and dying. This links with his description of his coming death, where he will be “lifted up” to fall, raised before the world, in order to die and bear fruit.

Do we recognize this in our own lives?

Do we acknowledge that in giving up, letting go, and passing on, we have the ability to pass on good gifts that bless the world?

What in you has had to fall to the ground to be changed? Have you resisted it? How is that working out?

In order to help his followers grasp the reality and immensity of his coming death, Jesus tells a parable. His foresight, his conviction that this is the path he must take, has continued to be confusing and at points frustrating to his disciples. They don’t want to believe that he is on his way to defeat. They want to believe in the coming revolution.

This Lent, I’ve been reading a devotional by Pastor Brian Zahnd called “The Unvarnished Jesus.” It looks at many of the stories of Jesus’ ministry and journey to the cross and, instead of remaining polished and done up in bow, the stories are given space to breathe and share their raw power. This week, I was struck by the way the author told of the story of Jesus before the religious judicial court and how the people had the opportunity to set him free as a part of the Passover proceedings. But, as we are likely familiar with, when given the chance to free Jesus, instead, they call for the freeing of Barabbas, the murderer.

Luke 23:13–25 NRSV

Pilate then called together the chief priests, the leaders, and the people, and said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was perverting the people; and here I have examined him in your presence and have not found this man guilty of any of your charges against him. Neither has Herod, for he sent him back to us. Indeed, he has done nothing to deserve death. I will therefore have him flogged and release him.” Then they all shouted out together, “Away with this fellow! Release Barabbas for us!” (This was a man who had been put in prison for an insurrection that had taken place in the city, and for murder.) Pilate, wanting to release Jesus, addressed them again; but they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” A third time he said to them, “Why, what evil has he done? I have found in him no ground for the sentence of death; I will therefore have him flogged and then release him.” But they kept urgently demanding with loud shouts that he should be crucified; and their voices prevailed. So Pilate gave his verdict that their demand should be granted. He released the man they asked for, the one who had been put in prison for insurrection and murder, and he handed Jesus over as they wished.

In this, we see that the people are swayed by the possibility of releasing a revolutionary who would overthrow the powers of the occupying forces and usher in a new era of rule in Israel. Barabbas is what Jesus has obviously not become — a force for overthrowing the government. I’ve been ruminating on Barabbas’ story and how it compares with Jesus’ words here about faithfully following his calling all the way to the cross.

Barabbas, who was also known as Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus, Son of the Father, was much more than a serial killer being released back into the crowd — he was a political prisoner that the people hoped will bring revolution. They eventually have grown fed up with Jesus, with his cryptic parables and warnings about dying. They do not want a dying messiah, they want a revolutionary messiah.

And we hear this passage, this story of the grain of wheat, whispering under the cries of the crowd. The grain of wheat must fall in order to be lifted up. The crowd says, Crucify him, thinking that they will end his ministry and move along. Don’t we, like the crowd, want the grain of wheat to stay put, to stay strong, to resist dying, in order to be what we want it to be, a sign of resistance and revolution? Don’t we want Jesus to stand up and fight?

But that has never been his message. All along, Jesus has pointed to a revolution that undermines all forms of violence. He has spoken of loving our enemies, heaping frustration upon them, but ultimately loving the world so that it might be transformed.

And so we have to hear this earthy, real-life parable in this light. Will Jesus bring a revolution, transforming the order of the created world insomuch as now the wheat no longer needs to fall to the ground? No. Instead, he will bring a renewal and restoration that only comes through death, falling to the ground, entering into the dirt, the grave.

Isn’t it strange that we bury seeds in the ground, out of sight, away from light, in their weakest, most vulnerable form, and yet expect them to grow?

When we look at Jesus, don’t we want an upward trajectory to his mission, not a downward movement? Don’t we want to see the kingdom of God moving up and to the right, expanding, exponentially growing towards its fulfillment?

Then what are we to do with this “other” way that Jesus is speaking of?

We hear that Jesus himself even has some reservations. Shouldn’t he be praying for the glory of God to reign and for justice to roll down and for him to rise up and overthrow the powers? Shouldn’t he be rallying the troops to take back Jerusalem. Isn’t that what we expect when we witness the celebration of Palm Sunday, which we will visit next week? That the grain of wheat will rise up, that the root of Jesse, the spring of David, the waiting remnant of God’s faithful, that they would rise up, not be buried, not die, but rise up to bring light to the nations?

We want Barabbas too, I think.

But we know that’s not how it works.

Instead, what we find is that Christ gives us a picture of an inverted, sacrificing way.

Of course, this teaching should resonate with us as we glimpse the early signs of spring around us. It is appropriate that we celebrate Easter in this season of new life, where we see that death is an entrance into the fullness of life, the fruit of death, the hope of growth beyond destruction. As we glimpse the buds on the trees and the bits of green popping up through the dirt, doesn’t this remind us that Jesus is leading a way of being that must let go in order to grow?

Culturally, we are so tied to this upward trajectory and how success and achievement come only through finding more, bearing more fruit, growing and expanding and overthrowing the ones on top. We, too, want a revolution. We want Barabbas. We have this picture of glory that looks for success as a better return on the investment, a broader reach of our message, more followers.

But what Jesus leads us to is a way where we have to learn to let things die and, then, somehow, bear fruit.

I take this away from Jesus’ message today: When we learn to let go, to relinquish control and our will to power, we find that God raises up new life in and around us.

The parable helps make meaning of the message Jesus has been trying to communicate: He is telling them he will not raise up the army or over throw the powers in the way they wish he would. He is telling them that he, like the seed, must die, be buried, and only then, will the fruit blossom up out of the ground.

How does this happen?

It happens through serving, through letting go of our will to control, and instead, finding ways to be lifted up by offering ourselves to one another. Jesus is to be lifted up on a tree, a cross. Like a vine trained to raise above the ground so it has space to expand and grow, so Jesus is being raised up on this cross in order to bear fruit.

And that fruit comes through letting go.

I wonder how this sits with you?

I wonder, what is growing in you?

What is reaching maturity and ready to be let go of?

A good gardener knows they cannot force their plants to blossom or grow good fruit. A good gardener knows that they need to let the earth do its work. We need to let the seeds fall, to be stirred into the nutrients and dead matter of the earth. We need to let things go. It is only then that we will bear witness to their growth.

What must you let go of?

I think about the stages of life that we are each at. As the wisdom of the Hebrew people reminds us, to every thing there is a season, time to be born, time to die, time to raise up, time to tear down. What Jesus teaches us today is that we must not hold our firm grip upon what must be let go to die, but rather we must open ourselves to the possibility, the reality, the hope, that when we let things go, they actually do become more than what we could have managed to make them.

We could be Barabbas followers. We could support his movement, his revolution.

But what Jesus calls us to is service. Service means letting go, giving up, releasing control, and letting God guide our steps.

If we cling to our life, we will lose it.

But if we will let go, if we will let the seeds fall to the ground, we will bear fruit and the world will see the goodness that can only come through this newness of life.

So, what must you release? What must you let die? What must you cultivate, pass on, teach, share?

Will our prayer be, “Father, take this from us, do not let this happen, do not let us die?”

Or will our prayer be, “Lord, take my life, let it find its rest in the earth, that in your time and your way, it might grow and bear fruit for the life of the world.”?

In closing, what happens when Christ does fall to the ground after being raised up?

Well, Jesus tells us that three important things occur.

First, the world will be judged. Put another way, the world and all its promises of success and upward movement, it will be proven, pushed, tested, and the results will be that it is only through Christ’s way of sacrificial service that life will renew.

Second, the accuser, the ruler of the world, will be overthrown. The evil one who lords death over us as a final word will be defeated. Death will become what it is meant to be, a turn to new life, the site of restoration, the completion and wholeness we have longed for. The accuser, the evil one, and his way, will be no more.

And third, all the world will be drawn to the one who gives life through death. The nations will see the fruit that is born out of Christ’s death and be drawn to him. So with us, as we serve, as we allow what must die to be released, we will draw all people together, as we shine our light upon a world that needs hope.

May we serve. May we be these seeds, which raise up in self-giving love, and through it, find life in its fullness, together, in Christ. Amen.