Sermon for 5th Sunday in Lent – John 12:20-33

Have you ever wanted to be famous? What did you want to be famous for? Music? Acting? Writing a book? Glory is kind of a two-edged sword if you think about it. I mean, it’s exciting to imagine having some kind of talent that draws praise and makes you popular. But, the downside is that after a while, that’s the only thing that people want from you. How many child actors have discovered that? Glory makes it really hard to get folks to see that there’s more to you than just the thing that they want.

Glory was hard for Jesus too. From the beginning his message was simple. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe in the good news.” He forgives sins and announces the dawn of a new age. Like a new world order of compassion and justice, where the first will be last and the last will be first. It’s just the kind of message that folks are dying to hear. They run and tell their friends. Before you know it, this crowd starts to grow around him, following him wherever he goes. But Jesus isn’t just about words. He’s about action too. So he also starts healing folks by the power of the Spirit. Curing disease. Casting out demons. Giving folks a taste of real freedom from everything holding them back. Really miraculous stuff. So if his words weren’t enough to make him famous, his miracles more than made up for it. Folks start dragging people to Jesus for his healing touch.

Now, all this is important, but it’s also a problem. Jesus wants to reconcile folks with God. To draw their attention to the source and giver of life. But his words are a little too revolutionary and his miracles are a little too miraculous. So Jesus has a PR crisis on his hands. He’s too much the center of attention. All this glory is drowning out his message, because he’s trying to point folks to God, but his popularity is getting in the way. He’s become a real celebrity, and what always happens with celebrities? Myths and rumors and fantasies that have nothing to do with reality. Folks see him as a political activist or an amazing doctor, and his forgiveness is just a distraction. Of course Jesus tries to manage the situation. How many times have we heard Jesus heal someone and then warn them to keep it a secret? Do they listen? No. But then Jesus goes and raises Lazarus from the dead. You can’t hide that. So Jesus may be frustrated that his message isn’t landing the way he wants, but he’s not making it easy on himself either. His glory precedes him.

That’s the backdrop for our gospel reading. I know Palm Sunday is next week, but we’re getting a headstart. Jesus comes to Jerusalem for the Passover festival, and crowds have been waiting for him. He’s a vision of glory riding on a donkey and the crowd cries Hosanna in the highest. The celebration is off the hook. So a few of the “Greeks” come up to the disciple Philip and say “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Like he’s Jesus’ wingman. Philip tells Andrew, and they go tell Jesus. After all, their teacher is finally getting the glory he deserves, so maybe they feel like the popular kids for a change. Jesus says “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified,” and they’re probably thinking “Yes, yes it is!” But what does Jesus say next? “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.” Huh? That doesn’t sound like glory. That sounds like martyrdom. How shocking is that?

Jesus continues, “My soul is troubled. What should I say? Father, save me from this hour? No, this is why I’ve come.” Now, we know he’s afraid. He may be God’s son, but he’s also just as human as us. In Gethsemane he even prays for his Father to take the cup away from him. He’s afraid of death, like us. But here’s the thing. What if Jesus is also losing confidence in what his Father called him to do? After everything he’s said and done, folks still don’t understand that he came to die. Even his disciples are in denial about it. Besides, what sense does it make to get killed when he could use the power of his celebrity to change things? To start a revolution? There’s nothing revolutionary about death. Except it’s not supposed to be about him. It’s supposed to be about his Father. So, in desperation he cries out, “Father, glorify your name.” God speaks, but all anyone hears is thunder. Epic fail. He tries to explain it to the crowd, but no one believes him. So he just departs and hides in shame, because what’s left for him to do? Die?

A friend of mine from college posted on Facebook this week. Feeling like his life has passed him by. Feeling empty from all the chances he wasted, and like he’ll never be himself again. What do you say to that? It reminded me of when I hit my 40s and started to feel the same way. Maybe it’s when we hit middle age that we start to struggle with making sense of our lives. Will anyone remember us when we’re gone? Did we ever do anything that really mattered? What do we regret? No wonder we have midlife crises and high-school reunions. We want to turn back the clock to when we were young and didn’t have a care in the world. But deep-down, we know there’s no going back and the clock is still ticking. This is what judgment feels like, and we know who’s judging us. We feel like we’ve let down others and let down God, and we can’t answer why.

But there is good news. Jesus doesn’t stay hidden away in shame. In faith and all righteousness he comes back in spite of his questions and fears. He knows we can’t answer for ourselves, so he cries aloud, “I do not judge anyone who hears my words and does not keep then, for I came NOT to judge the world, but to save it.” And that’s exactly what he did. For our sake he suffered the indignity and shame of the cross, to die real death but be risen in the true glory of his resurrection. Not like our earthly glory that you have to struggle to earn, but then just fades away. This is totally different. It’s Jesus’ everlasting glory, and we glorify him in everything that we say or do as the body of Christ.

But that doesn’t mean what we think it means. Our past doesn’t just go away. We still wear a lifetime of scars that’s anything but glorious. But Jesus died so that we might be unconditionally forgiven. Nothing we earned but always a free gift. And if that’s really true, then our scars testify that no one is beyond Jesus’ reach, and nothing in heaven or earth will ever separate us from the love of God. So when folks see us as we truly are, that’s how they know we’re telling the truth. That’s when Jesus truly becomes glorified. Not by our successes, but by our glorious failures. And I promise we’re going to glorify Jesus a whole lot.

So that’s why Jesus says “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.” Jesus buries our pride and our obsession with glory, so that we can serve our neighbors as a free gift. Not because we’re trying to win points with God, or prove that we’re truly Jesus’ disciples. Which is good, because we’re not very disciplined. We still fall into old patterns. We still make horrible mistakes. We all know the road to hell is paved with good intentions. But may God make the trip glorious for you and for me.