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The Fifth Sunday in Lent |
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Is the ministry of Jesus limited to only certain kinds of people? Is the gospel proclamation universal, or only for some? We may answer without question, "Of course, the ministry of Jesus proclaimed in the gospel is for all human beings." However, the universality of God's message of love was a surprising doctrine when it was first announced, and still today it is not always accepted by Christians or by people of other faiths. Look at the behavior we’ve seen from Serbian Christians and Bosnian Muslims, Israeli Jews and Palestinians, Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland, Groups in our own Episcopal Church, who seem to always be at each other's throats. Yet you and I in Baptism have promised, among other things, to respect the dignity of every human being and to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves. So, in a world where religionists of all sorts seem to limit the benefits of their faith only to certain persons—those who measure up to our standards, this baptismal promise seems strange. It convicts most of us as covenant breakers and liars. Both in history and in current events the universality of God's unconditional love for the human race is a difficult doctrine, and whether we adhere to it seems to depend largely on how much "ye agree with me." In the Gospel from John this morning, some Greeks wish to see Jesus. This is more than simply wanting to catch sight of him. They want to meet him and talk to him. Even in the rather casual and informal nature of the community surrounding Jesus, this request, it seems, has to be passed through channels. The Greeks speak to Philip, Philip speaks to Andrew, and then Philip and Andrew both consult with Jesus. And Jesus’ response to the request? We're not really sure. All we know is he answers the disciples with a discussion about his coming death which, strangely, he calls his "glorification,” using the metaphors of a grain of wheat being planted in the ground and his being "lifted up." Evidently he is explaining that the separation between Jews and non-Jews can only be broken down by his death. Paul states this clearly in his letter to the Ephesians. "[Christ] has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross..." (2:15-16). The question is, have we learned that, or more importantly, do we accept that? Separations and distinctions among people have marred human history with hate and violence and tragic bloodshed. And religious strife has been the worst of all. It would take something extraordinary and drastic to break down the barriers that have been a part of humanity's story from the beginning. It would take nothing less than God's incarnation as a human being to suffer and die as a sacrifice for all that violent human behavior in the past and yet to come. And this is because another separation is responsible for our human disunity—the separation between God and the human race, which the Bible ascribes to human disobedience. God is over there, or out there. And we are here. Even God's original covenant with humanity is a thing—a set of rules we may learn. We may even have some success at following them. But they are apart from, and different from, us and different from our own cultural and societal, maybe even religious, rules or structures for living. When the people of Israel had reached the final disaster brought on by their separation from God, all seemed hopeless. They dwelt as exiles in Babylon, grieving for the destruction of their city, their temple, their national identity. But Jeremiah announces that God is planning something new. The day is coming when God will make a new covenant with his people. This new covenant will not be something outside of human existence, distinct from us. But this covenant will be inside us and part of our existence. "I will put my law within them. I will write it on their hearts," says the Lord. "I will be their God, and they shall be my people, and I will remember their sin no more." The new covenant, in other words, will unite human nature with the nature of God. It will be God's response to the psalmist's prayer, "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me." When, and only when, the barrier between God and humanity is broken down can the barriers between human beings be broken down. And that new condition can prevail only when Christ is lifted up (John's way of describing the crucifixion). Like a seed, which can only bear fruit if it seems to die and is planted in the ground, Jesus’ saving action of restoring unity between God and humankind, and between various peoples, can only bear fruit when he dies. It takes that to get our attention. So the church proclaims again and again, but most especially in Lent, that Jesus, the only begotten child of God, the savior of the world, was crucified for our sake and has reconciled us with God and with each other, or, at least, made that possible. Now, perhaps this makes it sound rather simple. Yet when we look at the world around us, we recognize that, even if we have been reconciled with God, there is little if any sign that reconciliation between human beings has gotten very far. But, today, our Lord confronts us with our claim to Christianity. He confronts us with a vocation that demands far more of us than just being good church members. "Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also." (If you're going to be a mailman, you've got to deliver the mail. If you're going to be a Christian, you've got to imitate Christ.) We can only find that reconciliation, which human beings need to live in peace with one another, when we've taken on ourselves the same vocation Jesus was given by God. Our lives are to be united in the same self-offering that Jesus made. And Jesus didn't just offer himself to and for those who deserved it, did he? To those who agreed with his point of view or lived up to his expectations? In fact, even for those who nailed him to the cross, he prayed, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Amazing. Amazing grace. We have been reconciled with God in Baptism. But in Baptism we are ushered into a new way of living. We are not to be mere passive recipients of God's action on our behalf. In Baptism we are given a new identity: the body of Christ. People who imitate Christ. People who offer that same love and grace. Only when the Church as a whole, and its individual members, engages in this living new identity will there be any hope that the separation between people—whether religious or ethnic or racial or any other—will be overcome. Before the Greeks could "see" Jesus, it was necessary that he be lifted up, that he die and be buried, and that he be raised from the dead. If the world we live in is to see its many divisions healed, it must see Jesus. It must meet Christ dying and rising in its midst—through the actions of his followers. Lent is our renewal time—the time of renewal of our baptismal identity. Our lives must embody Jesus' vocation in self-giving love, not only to each other but to all people. We must live out our covenant with God. We must make the dying and rising of Jesus available now, even as we die to self, in order that God may raise us up as a new people. Then and only then can we answer the world's request, "We wish to see Jesus." In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
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