Scripture: John 13:1–17
I am really good at killing seeds. Because over the years, I have tended to have better intention than execution when it comes to seed-planting. I tend to get excited and plant seeds, but then I get busy and forget to, you know, water said seeds! Case in point, I threw a bunch of grass seed out in the back yard several weeks ago, knowing that the freeze-thaw is supposed to be good for the seed and hoping that I would come out and find a lush green lawn in the spring! And then we had winter and summer, and then more winter and more summer again a couple of weeks ago…and instead of a beautiful lawn full of grass, I had…
A bunch of grass seed sitting on top of the dirt! Which, you might know, is not where grass seed generally wants to be! Somewhere in its journey, a seed needs to decide that it wants to be something else. If it is happy with its “seedness,” then it can stay a seed, but that is all that it will be, until it becomes bird-seed and gets gobbled up.
That is the place where we find ourselves in the book of John. We are at the tipping point, between “seedfulness”…and something else….
Over the last several weeks, we have been exploring the creation of what scholars Bruce Malina and Richard Rohrbaugh call an “antisociety.” In sociological terms, this is a counter-cultural group that sees the failures in the larger society, and works to create a micro-alternative that will hopefully have an impact on the macro-society. Several weeks ago, now, I talked about the dangers of nationalism, especially Christian nationalism. If our faith is coopted by commitment to the political nation-state, we will find ourselves worshipping the “tail that wags the dog,” missing the centrality of our faith commitment. We might claim to be about our faith, but when it comes down to it, the faith has to serve the nation-state, the culture, and the political powers that be.
We find this exemplified once again in today’s text about Palm Sunday. Jesus has arrived in the city of Jerusalem, the political and cultural center of the nation, to much fanfare and rejoicing. Many of those who gather have either heard about, or seen firsthand, his raising of Lazarus. The city is buzzing from the gossip around this event, and many find it to be a compelling religious moment. In fact, as Jesus rides into town, they begin proclaiming religious language. They shout “Hosanna!” a term calling for salvation and restoration. And they quote the words of the ancient Psalm, the one that we have numbered as 118. It calls for gratitude to God for “steadfast love” and refuge and righteousness.
But then, there is this extra line that you might or might not have noticed. The people proclaim “blessed is the king of Israel!” But, wait a minute. That line isn’t in the Psalm. That is a clear addition that is meant to proclaim something more political than faith-based. And while the psalm talks about laying out branches in order to welcome the worshippers, John (and only John by the way), explains that those in Jerusalem that day have used palm branches, a national symbol meant to proclaim political power. Jesus, aware of their political coopting of his message, chooses to ride in on a donkey, the symbol of peace and prophetic power. But the ship has sailed. So many who greeted Jesus, saw him as a harbinger of war and political insurrection. It was a January 6 moment.
And it is a meta-moment for what is happening throughout the Gospel of John. Over and over again, Jesus says a thing, the people misunderstand the thing, and he has to double down on his message to make sure they get it. As Malina and Rohrbaugh write, this is a “…signal to the crowds that Jesus will lead no riot; force was not in his repertory for the social change he had in mind.”
Which leads us to the turning point of John. I made the point last week that the sermons of Jesus were just as important as the miracles that he has been performing. Perhaps more so. He has been preaching that he is the Living Water, the one who has come to save the world and not condemn it, the Good Shepherd, the Resurrection AND the Life. He has been teaching his followers what to believe. But now, there is this shift: if the first part of the book is about what this anti-society is supposed to BELIEVE, then Jesus now moves into teaching what it is supposed to DO. It is time to act. In John’s language, it is “Jesus’ hour.” Now, of course, the two are intricately intertwined throughout the whole story, but let me tell you what I mean and see if it makes sense. What is this antisociety supposed to do?
One, it dies.
Chapter 12.23-26
Our seed metaphor comes home! This section appears pretty much right after the triumphal entry, and it sharpens the point that Jesus has been trying to make. If a seed is going to become something else—a stalk of grain or a tree or whatever—it must first die. It cannot sit on top of the ground like the grass seed in the Sturtevant backyard. It cannot stay a seed if it is going to grow into something else. Jesus has been trying to explain that we must detach from his life if we are to embrace the eternal and abundant life that he gives. Of course, we know the story of the rest of the week, how his own death will bring about triumph over life. But you cannot get to point B without first going through point A. Resurrection cannot be accomplished without death. In the week where we most clearly look to the cross, this cannot be stated clearly enough.
So, anti-society, what needs to die in you today? What do you need to give up in order for Christ to be born in you in new ways? The answer to this question is intimately personal. Scholar and mystic Evelyn Underhill, who lived in the UK through the rise of Nazi fascism, writes about the work of Lent to name and remove what is sometimes called the “Seven Deadly Vices”: “Pride, uppishness, the great instinct of self-regard. No one can see straight in religion until they get rid of that. Envy—an inimical, snarky attitude to others, ill-wind in all, even its most subtle and refined forms. Anger, the combative instinct, turbulence, emotional uproar, self-centered vehemence, the negation of Peace. Sloth, the opposite number of wholesome zest, the deadly spirit of slackness, fed-up-ness, ‘is it worth while-ness.’ Avarice, the possessive spirit, grab and hold-tight in all its manifestations. Gluttony, intemperate enjoyment for its own sake of what is in reason good and allowable. Lust—letting our instinct and emotional nature get the upper hand and leading us, instead of our leading it, being ruled by our longings.” What needs to die within your soul, so that Christ can live? When we look at the actions of the anti-society, it must first be built on death.
What does Jesus teach that the antisociety must do next?
It serves.
Chapter 13.1-17
This is one of the clearest examples how one must behave if they are to join the community of Jesus. The context might need a bit of explanation here. In the ancient Palestinian world, people regularly walked through some pretty disgusting stuff. There was no sewer system, no waste-water removal, so people dumped feces out of their homes into the street. Then, people regularly walked through it, with open-toed sandals. So, when they entered a home, one of the first things that they would do have their feet washed. Usually, a servant or someone of low social standing, probably a woman, would wash their feet to remove all of that disgusting waste. But when there was no servant to do this, or a lack of clear hierarchy to decide who would do it, it might go…undone. Remember, the disciples regularly argued about who was greater than the other. So, one might imagine the disciples eating the meal with this stuff squishing between their toes the whole time, wondering who was the lowest in the room. And then Jesus, the only clear Master among them all, stood up and took of his outer robe. And with humility and grace, he washed the feet of every one of his followers. Remember that these were the folks who were going to reject him, deny him, betray him. But it didn’t matter. Jesus knelt down and washed their feet. It is perhaps the most profound example of God-with-us. “God who washes feces from between our toes.”
So, antisociety, where do you need to serve today? Where are the places that you feel you are too good to go? Who are the people that you feel you cannot deign to talk to? What are the actions that you cannot imagine taking? Start there. Scholar Jennifer Garcia Bashaw explains what is at stake here: Jesus is shocking them into a realization about the nature of true power. Lords and teachers usually sat at the head of the tables, using their power and authority to preside over meals. That is how a hierarchical, patriarchal world operates. Jesus, the Lord and Teacher from God, disrobes, kneels, and cleanses his guests like an overlooked scullery maid. This is a reversal of epic proportions, not just for their culture, but for any culture in the world.
Lest we forget the MO of the Gospel of John, nothing is as simple as it seems. When Jesus proclaims that his disciples must serve, there is of course, a double meaning. The conversation between Jesus and Peter demonstrate this. When Jesus tells Peter that he needs to be washed by Jesus, it is not just about his toes. It is about his soul. The symbolic action is about the detritus that needs to be washed from our hearts and minds, as well. This symbol is about forgiveness. Just like the disciples sat in that room with distracting and disgusting stuff on their feet, we so often sit in community with one another clogged with past guilt and shame and sin. Jesus proclaimed that night that we have to forgive one another and forgive ourselves in order to be the community that he was trying to build. We have to learn to let go of that stuff, or we will never be able to proclaim the grace that Christ is willing to offer. He says it most clearly a few verses later. We who are part of the community of Jesus must learn to serve, to love, to forgive:
Chapter 13.34
And finally, there is one more task of the antisociety of Jesus. It dies. It serves. It loves.
And it lives.
Chapter 14.12-15
If you heard the sermon last week, you know that the healing of Jesus was only the beginning. He knew that he would only be around for a few years, and if his healing ministry ended with him, it wouldn’t amount to much. He knew that he had to inspire, empower, and create community around the way of healing and hope. That’s why his words were as impactful as his actions. He could have healed the whole pool at Bethsaida, but then he would have become the rock star and when he was gone, the healing would stop, too. He knew that he had to create a ministry of healing. A community of healing. That work had to live beyond himself and his ministry.
On the first day of my Clinical Pastoral Training at Baptist East Hospital in Louisville, KY, our main supervisor gathered all of us students in a small room to introduce us to the ministry that we were about to embark upon. In that hospital, people were (and are) regularly healed of cancer. Of childhood illnesses. Saved from injury and burns and life-threatening sickness. And as we joined that work and that community of healing, he read us these words from John 14. Not the hypocritic oath. Not the 7 guiding principles of the hospital. Not the requirement of the Joint Commission or HPAA. John 14. Jesus promised that we would do greater things than even he did. “That,” he told us, happens every day in these halls.” The healing work that Jesus began continues every day. It lives on…in us. We were joining a community of Jesus-healing. Buckle up and prepare to see miracles every day.
Our antisociety must continue to be about that work of healing. Who has access to health care, in our nation and around the world? Who must choose not to go to the doctor because they don’t have the money for it? Who is denied access to health insurance, or Medicare, or affordable medicines? Those are Jesus-questions. Those are questions that the political and greed-centric society answers in one way, but we as Jesus-followers must answer in a different way. This is how the work of Jesus lives. In you and me and us.
I bought a packet of seeds last year. Again, my goal was great…I was going to get them in the ground and have early season spinach for the whole family! I found that packet of seeds this past week. Every seed still in the sealed packet. Not quite in salad form. A reminder that good intentions can not be the end of the story. In gardening, and in the walk of faith. In the next few days, we will remind ourselves of the power of the cross. It will remind us of our own death. Our own servanthood. Our own forgiveness. Our own work of healing and hope and life. May we be ready to become the seeds that God intends us to be. May we be ready to join the community of Jesus to change the world.
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