Fifth Sunday in Lent, rcl yr b, Sunday, March 17th, 2024
JEREMIAH 31:31-34; PSALM 119:9-16; HEBREWS 5:5-10; JOHN 12:20-33

Sir, we wish to see Jesus

You have to feel at least a little bit bad for the poor Greeks in today’s gospel reading. They were at the festival—probably among the Greeks who were drawn to Judaism—and they want to see Jesus. So they approach two disciples with Greek names, first Philip and then Andrew, saying to Philip, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” And you have to feel a little bit bad for them, because we never really hear from those poor Greeks ever again. It’s unclear, but it seems quite possible, despite clearly expressing the desire “to see Jesus,” that they never got to see Jesus at all.

If that’s true, we can only imagine their frustration. Back in the days before online tickets, you had to line up for movies. And if it was a big movie, a summer blockbuster, and you wanted to see it on the opening night, you just had to go and line up. In summer of 1989, I lined up with my buddies to see Tim Burton’s first Batman film. There was a line of people well down a good portion of Portage Avenue, all of us waiting to see Batman.`

And if you don’t get there for the first viewing, you had to wait, and sometimes you would hear people coming out of an earlier screening talking about the movie. It was the worst! Not only did you have to wait, you had to hear about the movie. You don’t want to hear anyone else talk about how good Jack Nicholson was as the Joker, or whether Michael Keaton could pull off a good Caped Crusader. “But sir, be quiet already, we want to see Batman!”

And so imagine those poor Greeks (I imagine them by the side of a road) standing there seemingly abandoned by Philip and Andrew, who seem never to come back. And imagine them hearing all about Jesus, but never quite getting to see him. Imagine how frustrating that would be. Like hearing all the reviews, but never getting to see the film.

In at least one strand of thinking, the Greeks don’t matter much, actually. In this one strand of thinking, the God of Israel was for Israel; and so if Jesus is the Messiah, he would be for Israel too. For the other nations? Perhaps not. You could read Jeremiah this way, judging just by our reading: “The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah.” A new covenant with who now? Israel and Judah—other nations? Maybe not so much.

But that is only one strand of thinking we can find in the Old Testament; there is a more generous strand of thinking that much of the New Testament will echo. In this way of imagining who it is God is for, God may be for Israel—but it is through Israel that all the nations would come to know the God who saves. Jeremiah, even, was appointed by God to be prophet to Israel and the nations. Isaiah too speaks of Israel as a light not simply unto itself, but a light to the nations.

It seems John’s Gospel picks up this generous thread. Right from the start of John’s Gospel—to take one example—we are told that the light that is entering the world in Jesus is the light of all people, and that all who receive the Word become children of God.

But still, those poor Greeks, languishing by the side of the road, waiting for Andrew and Philip to come back, so they can be brought to see Jesus. It’s odd, right? If Jesus is the light of the world, a light that comes from God, a light that shines in Israel for the sake of all the nations of the world, if this is true, why leave the Greeks high and dry?

As though he was prompted by this suggestion that there were some Greeks who wanted to see him, Jesus starts to speak. Not to the Greeks directly, it seems, but answering Philip and Andrew, Jesus tells them about what it means for him to be glorified. The time had come, Jesus says, for the Son of Man to be glorified; and the way that Jesus would be glorified, was to die like a grain of wheat falling into the ground. Death will be necessary for him; and this will be his glory: to die like a seed in the ground, a seed that dies in order to bear fruit.

And Jesus speaks again of what it is for him to be lifted up, to be exalted; the same way Jesus spoke of this last week, Jesus speaks of his exaltation on the cross, when he says “And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” And confirming that for John, the lifting up and exaltation of Jesus is his crucifixion, John’s Gospel adds of this lifting up: ‘Umm, by the way? “He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.”’

The Greeks don’t know any of this quite yet. It seems that they may not even have been anywhere near enough to Jesus to know that he had said this. It’s almost as though it wasn’t time yet for the Greeks, it wasn’t time yet for the nations of the world to know what it would mean for Jesus to be exalted, and what it would mean for them. For the nations of the world, it would take a crucifixion, because it will be in Jesus’s exaltation, it will be in being lifted up on the cross that Jesus will draw all people to himself. The cross is the pivot point, it is from the cross that Jesus will gather all people to himself in his suffering embrace: the Greeks, and all the nations of the earth, too.

So for the Greeks who are waiting by the side of the road to come and see Jesus, the best is yet to come—and they don’t even know it yet. There will be more than seeing Jesus; they will be gathered in by Jesus. From the cross, Jesus will embrace them.

And it is from the cross that Jesus gathers you, too. Here, now, when Jesus speaks about his exaltation and his drawing all people to himself, there is no qualification. Jesus says nothing even of belief as a condition for being embraced by him. “I,” says Jesus, “I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” Tout court. No addition. No qualification. That’s it.

Not “I will draw all people to myself, and by ‘all people’ I mean the good people.” Not “I will draw all people to myself, and by ‘all people’ I mean the people with the money and the jobs.” Not “I will draw all people to myself, and by ‘all people’ I mean the Anglicans, though maybe also a few Lutherans.” And perhaps most importantly, Jesus does not say “I will draw all people to myself, and by ‘all people’ I mean the people who have taken me to themselves, and made me a possession, the ones who have made an idol of exclusion out of me.” Instead, Jesus says: “I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.”

This is good news, about as generous as we can imagine; in fact, there are some early manuscripts that have Jesus say that he will draw all things to himself—suggesting a salvation that reaches beyond even all us people who would have Jesus to ourselves. Instead, the Greeks are included; even those without faith will learn faith, and learn to trust, through a love that does not die.

Good news for you, and for me—that our salvation depends less on ourselves, and our merits, or our feigned holiness; but that our salvation, and indeed perhaps even the salvation of the whole world, of all things, depends on one such as Jesus, the one who even in death, opens up his arms in an enfolding embrace.

The Revd Canon Dr Preston Parsons