Cinny was a cute blond with almost
terminal cheerfulness. Seriously. The girl was just adorable and she
lit up every room she was in. You couldn't help but like her. She was
like everybody's kid sister. She was a classmate of mine in the
Theater Arts Department at California State University about a
million years ago.
One day the instructor of our Theater
Management class decided to start his lecture by asking us students
to share the single most positive thing going on in our lives. I had
just returned from San Francisco where I'd had a screening audition
for a professional showcase. I had done brilliantly at the audition
and was set to perform for the casting people of several regional
theaters. When it came my turn to share, I proudly announced my
accomplishment to my classmates. When Cinny was asked to share, she
told us, “I'm a Christian, and my faith brings me joy!”
I don't know what the other students
thought when they heard Cinny testify, but I felt like a complete
jerk. I was a Christian, too, but I had just selfishly blown an
opportunity to do the thing which all Christians are called to
do—proclaim Christ and glorify his name.
In the gospel appointed for the Fifth
Sunday of Lent, John 12:20-33, we read about some foreigners who are
longing to see Jesus. John calls them “Greeks,” a generic name
for anyone who spoke that language and was not an ethnic Jew. Philip
and Andrew might not know if it's quite kosher to bring these
gentiles into the presence of their rabbi, but they don't deny them
access either. John doesn't give us the whole story, but he does have
Jesus tell us that he has come to “draw all people to myself”
(v.33), so I'm thinking the Greek guys got the audience. Jesus is
inclusive like that.
I guess the reason that I like this
passage is because it's one of the appointed passages to be read at
graveside. I'm called upon to do lots of funerals, so I read
this passage several times during a year. I try to clarify to the
mourners that the reference to hating one's life in verse 25 doesn't
mean acting like a petulant fourteen-year-old girl (“OMG! My life
soooo sucks!”). Rather, “hate” in this context is probably best
understood as the antonym of “love.” It might better have been
translated as to be “unconcerned” about the things of this life,
thereby freeing oneself to be concerned about eternal things—things
which will live on after our mortal bodies have stopped functioning.
In this story, Jesus knows his time is
growing short. Maybe the fact that these foreigners have taken an
interest in him tips him off that his fame has reached the point
where the powers that be just have to stop him. Who knows? But
I find his simile very apt. If you hold on to a grain of wheat, all
you have is one grain. If it falls into the earth and “dies,” it
bears much fruit (v.24).
There's an old saying that the learning
doesn't start until the lesson is over. That is, once the teacher
isn't around to tell you what to do anymore, you either know what to
do or you don't. If you do, it's because a part of that teacher is
living in you. The seed is planted and bearing fruit in your life.
What's more, it's bearing fruit in the lives that your life touches
and in the lives touched by everyone who was influenced by that
teacher. When Jesus was with us, there was only one of him. When he
was “lifted up” on the cross, his message grew in the hearts of
his followers, influencing them and, ultimately, the entire human
race.
When I preach this at graveside
services, I ask the listeners to think of the things their departed
loved one taught them and to do those things in remembrance of the
deceased. For Christians hearing this message, I think the seed that
is planted is the glory of God. As Jesus glorified the Father through
his obedience, we are called to glorify Jesus through our
proclamation. There are hearts in this world which hunger to see
Jesus, and they need to see Jesus in us.
The
challenge in this gospel lesson is how bear the fruit. It's pretty
easy for a guy like me who walks around in a black suit with a
clerical collar. Whenever I consecrate the Eucharist, I proclaim
Jesus. People expect this of me, but for lay people it might be a
challenge to wear faith so openly. But if we see Jesus
in others, it's easy to be
Jesus to them. Proclamation can take the form of charitable work,
speaking out against intolerance and prejudice, a welcome to a
stranger in worship (even if you've seen that same “stranger” for
years!), or simple kindness and decency. It might be something as
simple as my old classmate's declaration, “I'm a Christian, and my
faith brings me joy.”
In
verse 26 Jesus tells his friends, “Whoever serves me must follow
me.” Fertilization and cultivation of the seed of Christ's glory
requires that we follow him. That means we do the things the teacher
taught us—we pray, we sacrifice, we give thanks, we endure
suffering with patience, and we unashamedly believe in the goodness
of God. These are the things which will bear fruit when we ourselves
are gone. If we do nothing else in this life, let us proclaim Christ.
God
bless you, my friends. Do some proclaiming this week, okay?
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