crumbling expectations

This series of postings are a series of reflections that originally appeared here, on the Diocese of Dunedin website "worship" page

Tuesday in Holy Week

April 7th

READING: John 12:20—36

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. 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.”

After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them.

REFLECTION

Jesus, understandably, was not totally chilled out in the days leading to his death. He didn’t need a crystal ball to know that his subversive proclamation of a Reign greater than that of Caesar was coming to a pointy end, nor that this pointy end was likely to entail either his execution or a less formalized assassination. He’d been there, done much of that already, but the odds were shortening for his survival. So he’s not a little troubled. Reading the biographies of the great martyrs of human history it’s no surprise to find this as a common theme. Jesus was deeply human.

John treads a tightrope: he is aware that Jesus, while utterly human, is bearing the immeasurable weight of “chosenness.” The Hebrews knew this syndrome well. Jesus is facing death, and his death has, as we might put it, cosmic ramifications. Bizarrely, to his listeners, Jesus speaks of some sort of connection to the Creator, of an ordained vocation to die, of conquering darkness with the light that he represents. John was writing decades later: who knows the exact form of Jesus’ words, but John reports the gist of them.

He reports, too, Jesus’ desire for solitude.

As church (I’d prefer the old-fashioned, capitalized “Church”) we are called into those divinely-warmed footprints. As Holy Week and Covid-19 brutally combine, we with all humanity feel the pain of disorientation, of disturbed expectations and uncertain futures. We though as church are forced by the Spirit (who has been warning us for some time) to retreat to a place where we can slough off our distractions, where we can become authentic bearers of Christlight in darkness. We are called to sit with the pain of crumbling expectations—called to find our total reliance on the Crucified God.

In that place of painfilled awareness may we find and proclaim the resurrection touch of the risen Lord.