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This evening’s gospel comes at a time that is just days away from Jesus’ own death, at a moment when Jesus’ enemies are circling in and soon to grab him and take him off. Some non-Jews, “Greeks,” have come up to the disciples and asked, in a positive way, to see Jesus. All this has caused Jesus to recognize and to say that The hour has come for the Son of man to be glorified. This very important word “glory” hangs over the entire passage, a word which, as Father Turner well emphasizes, is one of the key terms of Christian faith. Let us revisit tonight’s passage with the question of glory in our mind: What is Jesus’ glory? What is his Father’s glory? And is there such a thing as glory for the likes of you and me?
Jesus says that the hour has come for the Son of man—himself—to be glorified. And immediately he says, Unless a grain of wheat fall into the ground and dies, it abideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. He is speaking of glorification, and he illustrates it with death. The illustration is of common agricultural material: one could imagine Jesus, as he speaks, breaking off a “corn” of wheat and rolling it between his fingers. This grain of wheat has to die or else it remaineth alone; but if it die, it stops being alone, it becomes productive, it bringeth forth much fruit. See what is implicit in this simple image from the farm: the grain of wheat’s death is followed by abundance, much fruit. It is the opposite of what people often think: that here we are, alive, together, but when we die, we are alone, in the grave (or wherever), cut off from other people. Jesus is pointing out that we have an everyday picture of the opposite: seeds die, but abundant new life comes out of their death.
And that, he wants us to understand, is what will happen to him.
In the next verse (25), Jesus sets forth the paradox. Any person that loveth his life shall lose it. And conversely, any person that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal. Jesus contrasts loving and hating your life, and he puts the contrast in those extreme terms for the sake of making the important point, that if the goal of your life is self-preservation you will not succeed. The best way not to preserve yourself is to make preserving yourself the aim of your life. Only if you are willing to lose your life, only if you do are willing to set aside self-preservation as the point of your existence, only if (in that sense) you “hate” your life in this world will you be able to keep your life, keep it for eternal life.
So Jesus moves in his teaching from saying that a grain of wheat has to die, which was a reference to himself, to saying that for everyone we have to “hate” our life, be willing to die, if we are to have real life. Then in verse 26 he connects this about us back to himself: if any one serve me, he must follow me; and where I am there also shall my servant be; if any one serve me, the Father will honor him. To be Jesus’ servant is to follow Jesus, and to follow Jesus is to walk after him towards the cross, towards one’s own death; if you serve Jesus that way, he says, you will receive honor from Jesus’ Father.
This is what glory is: a dying that is followed by abundant fruitfulness; a dying that is true self-preservation; a dying that is a following of Jesus, a being where he is, which is to say, a being in death, in Jesus’ death. Such a person the Father will honor, which means that no more than Jesus will such a person remain in death; rather, he will be lifted up.
Ignatius of Antioch was, Raymond Brown tells us, one of the earliest Christians to echo in his writings the thoughts of John’s gospel. In his martyrdom—he was fed to wild beasts—Ignatius lived out these three verses. He was “willing to hate his life in this world in order to live eternally, and thus [he] gave an example of how a servant should follow Jesus. As he did so, he cried out, ‘I am God’s grain’” [Brown, John, Anchor Bible, p475]. Jesus said, and Ignatius remembered it, Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies . . . (And I do not need to say that there are many Ignatiuses in the world today.)
One might wonder how Jesus felt about all this—about being the grain of wheat that was going to die. John tells us that Jesus, aware that his hour of glorification was at hand, and having explained about the fruitfulness that was to come from his death, immediately expressed an emotion that is nothing short of awesome. Now is my soul troubled. This is a holy moment. Jesus’ soul is troubled. He knows he is about to struggle with Satan, whom he calls the prince of this world, the ruler who is to be cast out, to be deprived, through Jesus’ death, of his power in the fallen world. But that has not yet happened; Jesus has not yet died, and here he asks, or at least he wonders aloud, in his troubled soul he considers: should he ask his Father to save him from this hour, to save him from his death? No; Jesus wants his Father’s will to be done; Jesus’ will is to do his Father’s will; Jesus’ will is the Father’s will, there is no space between Jesus and his Father.
Behold the holiness of Jesus with his troubled soul, who out of his trouble resolves awesomely by saying to the Father, Glorify thy name. It is precisely here, in Jesus’ troubled soul, that he turns to pray for his Father’s name to be glorified. Jesus, about to be glorified on the cross, about to give us the example for our own glorification, asks for his Father’s name to be glorified. And the Father answers: I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.
The Father says that his name has already been glorified. When would that have been?
If we look back in John’s gospel, we find glory connected with the signs that Jesus did. When Jesus changes water into wine at Cana, John says this manifests his glory (2:11). When Jesus anticipates that he is to raise Lazarus from the dead, he says that that miracle will be to God’s glory and also to his glory (11:4).
Jesus well understood that all of his glory was his Father’s glory. But there is, I think, something more specific when, so close to his own death, he asks his Father to glorify his, the Father’s, name. When we pray the Our Father, we say, “Hallowed be thy name.” Brown also says, and it seems to me intuitively correct, that the three lines at the beginning of the Lord’s prayer are synonymous: “hallowed be thy name” is “thy kingdom come” is “thy will be done.” For the Father’s name to be hallowed is for his will to be accomplished. Close to his death, Jesus asks his Father to glorify his name, and his Father assures him he has done so already—by Jesus himself living out his Father’s will—and he will do so in the future also, as Jesus goes forth to his crucifixion and death.
In Lent people often feel bad about their prayers and want to pray more. But there is no need for new prayers or fancy prayers. You want to pray more this Lent? Say the Lord’s prayer. And when you get to “hallowed be thy name,” there you are with Jesus, close to his eeath, uniting his will with the Father’s will; and there you are with Ignatius, hating his life and following Jesus and becoming wheat that will bring forth abundantly; and there you are with the Father, who wants to share his glory, which is Jesus’ glory, with you. A simple prayer: “Father, hallowed be thy name,” or if you wish, “Father, glorify thy name.”