From the Daily Lectionary for Tuesday in Holy Week
John 12:20-36
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. The crowd answered him, “We have heard from the law that the Messiah remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?” Jesus said to them, “The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.”
Every now and then someone will ask me why we don’t use the “real” Lord’s Prayer in our liturgy. As you know we use the “contemporary version,” not the King James Version. Using the language with which we usually speak is reason enough, but the more important reason is that the contemporary version is the more accurate translation from the Koine Greek in which scripture was written. One line stands out. In the King James Version we say, “Lead us not into temptation,” whereas in the contemporary version we say, “save us from the time of trial.” That’s a big and important difference. In the contemporary version we acknowledge that life is a trial, and we ask God for God’s solidarity with us in the trials of life… not that we won’t have trials, but that we will endure them with integrity, that we will be transformed by them into a more mature faith, that the Love of God will be all the more present in them. That is what the process of salvation is all about; that we are strengthened, become more true, so that we may be strength for others.
In the Gospel reading from John, the inevitability of Jesus’ arrest and execution now governs the narrative. Remember, John’s Gospel was written in the late first century, very possibly in the early second century, some seven plus decades after the life and ministry of Jesus. So again, this is theology, not an historical account. The writers see the horrific trial of Jesus as a supreme irony, that a shameful and tortuous death would be the means of the world’s enlivening. John refers to the crucifixion as “a lifting up,” harkening to the ancient story of Moses lifting up the serpent of healing in the Sinai desert. (still to this day the Caduceus is a symbol for healing) The passion of the Christ is God’s solidarity with us amid the worst of trials. There is an intimate connection I think between healing and solidarity.
Wallace Stevens writes in his most famous poem, Sunday Morning, that “death is the mother of beauty:” The supreme irony… but as I hope you are learning, God has a habit of showing up amid irony and paradox and ambiguity. The poets and sages over human history have recognized this motif… Theseus must descend into the dark labyrinth and face the Minotaur; Aeneas must enter the underworld before any resolution is possible for his quest, a quest to found a civilization, no less. Dante’s protagonist must descend into the depths of hell before he may experience the beauty of heaven. Death comes first in Shakespeare’s The Tempest before reconciliation and renewal can come about. Death, in all of its guises, both figurative and literal, is the sacred womb of birth, not to be feared, but to be endured with courage, knowing that new life is inexorable, exponential. And we stand at the ready for it.
We know this to be true. Our experience teaches us so, if we’re paying attention. The reason we gather in worship is to give thanks for such reality, proclaiming that death is not the last word… that Love is stronger; that life is unquenchable. In this time of plague we do not fear, because death has been and is being overcome. And this reality is not about the hereafter. It is about our lives now. It is our time now to embrace the irony, ‘our hour come,’ trusting that we will learn and grow; that the present time and its suffering, the trial of it, are mere rigors of new birth. We will never be quite the same, but such is the way of transformation, such is the way of God… such is the way of the cross. The prophet Isaiah from our reading Monday puts it this way:
“See, the former things have come to pass,
and new things I now declare;
before they spring forth,
I tell you of them.”
And yet we pray: “Our Father… Save us from the time of trial,”
Collect for Tuesday in Holy Week
O God, by the passion of your blessed Son you made an instrument of shameful death to be for us the means of life: Grant us so to glory in the cross of Christ, that we may gladly suffer shame and loss for the sake of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
