March 21, 2021: Beloved Community
John 12:20-33
Rev. Rhonda Blevins
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.
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My friend, David, and his wife Sarah bought a new house a couple of years ago. It was one of those situations in which the “bones” of the house were great, the property was amazing, but the previous owners had gotten older and couldn’t quite keep up with it the way they once had. But because the home needed some TLC, David and Sarah felt like they were able to purchase the property at a really good price, knowing they were going to have quite a lot of work to get the house and property back in shape.
One of the areas of the property that needed a lot of attention were the flower beds in the front yard. They were overgrown—it was hard to figure out what should stay and what should go—so they cleared out most everything and started with fresh plantings. And being resourceful and conscientious, they started a compost pile out back with the refuse.
Compost is amazing, isn’t it? It’s trash, waste, undesirable, rotten and sometimes even stinky—and yet when it comes to good soil for planting, there’s nothing better than compost—yesterday’s trash is tomorrow’s rich soil.
This compost metaphor isn’t too far off from the metaphor Jesus uses to describe his own life in the Gospel lesson we read together. “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.” What a boring metaphor! “Jesus, your life may be the most exciting thing that has ever happened on planet earth, and you compare yourself to a grain of wheat falling to the earth? Give us something better than that! Compare yourself to a rocket ship or a t-rex or a great warrior—not a grain of wheat falling to the ground—not . . . compost!”
Yet that’s the metaphor that Jesus uses, knowing that his death is requisite, recognizing that he must die in order for the moment to become a movement. So naturally, his heart is troubled in anticipation of his death.
So when some Greek folks approach Philip, one of the disciples, about seeing Jesus, it seems to cause a bit of consternation. Instead of Philip taking them directly to see Jesus, he approaches Andrew to discuss the request. Then Philip and Andrew together come to Jesus to tell him that the Greek folks—probably non-Jewish people—want to see him. Jesus doesn’t immediately say, “Bring them to me!” Rather, Jesus begins talking about wheat falling to the ground and dying. Jesus opens up about how troubled he is knowing that he must die. We don’t know if he ever meets the Greeks who want to see him, but Jesus seems to indicate it’s not terribly urgent, saying, “I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” “All people” surely includes Greek folks too.
Why did Jesus choose to draw “all people” to himself? There are quite a few folks I wish he would leave out . . . you know . . . “those people.” The Jews didn’t want the Greeks, and now the Christians don’t want the Sikhs (or much of anybody else who looks, thinks, or worships differently.) I’m reminded of a poem about how we may be in for a big surprise at just how inclusive heaven is:
I was shocked, confused, bewildered as I entered Heaven’s door,
Not by the beauty of it all, nor the lights or its decor.
But it was the folks in Heaven who made me sputter and gasp–
The thieves, the liars, the sinners, the [users] and the trash.
There stood the kid from seventh grade who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor who never said anything nice.
Herb, who I always thought was rotting away in hell,
Was sitting pretty on cloud nine, looking incredibly well.
I nudged Jesus, “What’s the deal? I would love to hear your take.
How’d all these sinners get up here? God must’ve made a mistake.
And why’s everyone so quiet, so somber— give me a clue.”
“Child,” He said, “they’re all in shock. They never thought they’d be seeing you!”
— J. Taylor Ludwig
(No previous pastors named “Herb” were harmed in the writing of this sermon!)
This funny little poem reminds us to “judge not lest we be judged.” “All people,” Jesus tells us, will be drawn to him. Not “some people.” Not just “good people.” Not even “Christian people.” All people. Even Herbs.
Recognizing how inclusive heaven is and will be, we pray for this same unity here in this realm each time we pray “Thy kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.” The biblical vision is the wolf and the lamb lying down together. The societal vision, to use Martin Luther King Jr.’s language, is that of the “Beloved Community.” As described by the King Center, “Beloved Community is a global vision in which all people can share in the wealth of the earth. In the Beloved Community, poverty, hunger and homelessness will not be tolerated because international standards of human decency will not allow it. Racism and all forms of discrimination, bigotry and prejudice will be replaced by an all-inclusive spirit of sisterhood and brotherhood.” Sounds a lot like Jesus drawing all people unto himself to me.
If we are to follow Jesus, we are to join him in the work of drawing all people to him. To be a part of this work we have to change the way we think. We humans seem wired to judge and exclude, to label some as “in” and others as “out.” Funny, isn’t it, that we always imagine ourselves as “in?” We always believe ourselves to be right and others wrong. (Don’t argue with me on this—I know I’m right on this J.) Repentance, in the true sense of the word, is simply changing the way we think. We need to let go of so many of our judgments and biases, change the way we think, that way love and acceptance can find room to grow.
There is a story about an old man in a village, he was very poor, but even kings were jealous of him because he had a beautiful white horse. Such a horse had never been seen before— the beauty, the very grandeur, the strength. Kings asked for the horse and they offered fabulous prices, but the old man would say, “This horse is not a horse to me, he is a person, and how can you sell a person? He is a friend; he is not a possession. How can you sell a friend? No, it is not possible.” The man was poor, there was every temptation, but he never sold the horse.
One morning, he suddenly found that the horse was not in the stable. The whole village gathered, and they said, “You foolish old man. We knew that someday the horse would be stolen. And you are so poor— how can you protect such a precious thing? It would have been better to sell it. You could have fetched any price you asked, any fancy price was possible. Now the horse is gone. It is a curse, a misfortune.”
The old man said, “Not so fast—simply say that the horse is not in the stable. This is the fact; everything else is a judgment. Whether it is a misfortune or not, how do you know? How can you judge?”
The people said, “You silly old man. We may not be great philosophers, but no philosophy is needed. It is a simple fact that a treasure has been lost, and it is a misfortune.”
The old man said, “I will stick to the fact that the stable is empty and the horse is gone. Anything else I don’t know—whether it is a misfortune or a blessing—because this is just a fragment. Who knows what is going to follow it?” People laughed. They thought the old man had gone mad. They always knew that he was a little crazy; otherwise he would have sold this horse and lived in riches.
But he was living like a woodcutter, and he was very old and still cutting wood and bringing the wood from the forest and selling it. He was living hand to mouth, in misery and poverty. Now it was completely certain that this man was crazy.
After fifteen days, suddenly one night, the horse returned. He had not been stolen: he had escaped to the wilderness. And not only did he come back, he brought a dozen wild horses with him. Again, the people gathered and said, “Old man, you were right and we were wrong. It was not a misfortune, it proved to be a blessing. We are sorry that we insisted.”
The old man said, “Again you are going too far. Just say that the horse is back, and say that twelve horses have come with the horse— but don’t judge. Who knows whether it is a blessing or not? It is only a fragment. Unless you know the whole story, how can you judge? You read one page of a book, how can you judge the whole book? You read a sentence in a page—how can you judge the whole page? You read a single word in a sentence—how can you judge the whole sentence? And even a single word is not in the hand—life is so vast—a fragment of a word and you have judged the whole! Don’t say that this is a blessing, nobody knows.”
The same is true of people. We judge that which we do not know—their outward appearance, one fragment of a much larger life from a far greater family and cultural system. How can we truly know another? Why then, do we judge, imagining another’s hopes and dreams are rubbish?
And speaking of rubbish, remember my friend’s compost pile I told you about at the beginning of the sermon? The compost pile started from the refuse of an overgrown and untended garden? Recently that compost pile surprised my friends as it burst forth in radiant glory as dozens of bright yellow daffodils pushed their way from the soil into the daylight. Dormant bulbs apparently were hidden within the debris. Flowers from bulbs! Beauty from ashes! Life from death! My friends are the proud owners of the world’s most beautiful compost pile!
So let us hold our judgments loosely, remembering that Jesus is drawing all people unto himself (whether we like it or not), recognizing that even untended gardens are encoded with beauty, that even bad seeds can bloom, giving thanks that a grain of wheat, through death, can indeed bear much fruit.