Hating Our (False) Selves

'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.'

--John 12: 20-33

“We wish to see Jesus.”  They were a group of Greeks.  Maybe they were converts to Judaism.  Maybe they weren’t.  Maybe, because the Greeks have always been regarded as seekers of truth, they were just plain curious about this carpenter-turned-rabbi whose fame was spreading throughout their corner of the world.  We may never know the reason for their request, but we can sure understand it, can’t we?

Who among us does not wish to see Jesus?  Whether you’re in-person or online, you join your worship community each week, in part, because you wish to see Jesus. Truth is, there’s a whole world out there that wishes to see Jesus. They don’t always say so because they’ve been hurt by the institutional Church, but they love Jesus, and they want to meet him and know him. What does it mean, then, for the Church, which is the Body of Christ in the world, to show Jesus to the world?

The best way we can do that is to model our lives on his. This exchange we hear in the Fourth Gospel today gives us a clue to what Jesus’ life was about and what was at the heart for people who were hoping to inherit what he called the Kingdom of Heaven – not a prize for folks to receive when they die but a present reality that is in their hands to cultivate right now. He responds to the request from those Greeks with a metaphor about a grain of wheat, and how if it abides by itself it’s pointless, but if it lets go of its singular existence, if it commits itself into the deep soil, joining with other microbial organisms and, essentially, dying, then new fruit can be born from it. In the same way, Jesus says, those who love their singular existence will lose it, but if they hate it, then they will gain that eternal life they’ve waited for.

At first hearing Jesus say that folks need to “hate their lives” sounds pretty harsh, The Greek here is miseo, which implies active ill will and is the opposite of agape, which is Jesus’ word for love. The “life” he says to hate is not the same as “eternal life"; in fact, they are two different words in the original Greek. The first is the psuche, which is more akin to the false self or the ego, the version of ourselves that we project out onto the world – it’s the root for “psyche” -  but the second is zoe, a kind of life that is perfect and the abiding antithesis to death. Jesus isn’t saying that we must literally be filled with self-loathing or, God-forbid, harm ourselves, but he is saying that the kind of life we’re really looking for, is one that is not found by abiding in ourselves exclusively but by abiding with others, including God. This is scary, especially if we’ve been hurt by others – it’s sometimes called the Hedgehog’s Dilemma, the closer two hedgehogs get to one another, the more they hurt one another. It’s true for humans too, often the closer we get we the more we hurt, but the alternative is akin to nonexistence; it’s only when we are willing to give everything up that keeps us living solely for ourselves, including the need for self-preservation, that we can receive the kind of life that Jesus has to offer.

The Hedgehog's Dilemma

That’s the example Jesus sets as the one willing to give up everything, even his life, for the sake of the other – in his case, for the sake of the whole world. “Eternal life,” then, is declaring that paradoxical statement that it is only in giving up ourselves that we find ourselves. This is not only about Jesus’ sacrifice but it’s an invitation he issues to his followers to put the Kingdom of Heaven first, the love of the other, which starts with God and extends out to the people of God. But there’s one thing that tends to get in the way of us living into this example, and thereby showing Jesus to others, and that is the fear of death.

Our culture is overwhelmingly concerned with self-identity and self-preservation at all costs.  Every aspect of living tries to cater itself to our individual needs, which, of course, makes it easier to ignore the needs of others. But what would it truly mean to live for God and for others? Here we find Jesus, in the last days of his life, knowing what is about to happen, rhetorically asking, “What I should say? ‘Father, save me from this hour?’ No, Father, glorify your name!” And when he says this a voice from heaven speaks – and in John’s Gospel this is the first time we hear this voice because those other two times, his baptism and transfiguration, don’t happen in John’s Gospel – and the voice replies that the Father’s name has been glorified once already – in Jesus coming into the world – and will be glorified again – in Jesus’ death and resurrection that tears away the veil that separates us from one another and makes it possible for us to live no longer for ourselves but for one another, making the Kingdom of Heaven truly a present reality. 

What would it mean for us to move beyond our fear of death, of loss and change of all kinds – from “save me from this hour” to “glorify your name”? What if we, who are the grain of wheat, let ourselves go and be buried deep in the soil of God’s grace and love? What kind of amazing fruit might be born from that so-called “death”?

That grace and love have already been written on our hearts by the covenant that God has made with us. The prophet Jeremiah spoke of a "new covenant" (Jeremiah 31: 31-34), and when he did so he wasn't saying that the old one on Sinai was now null and void, nor was he thinking of Jesus, but he was proclaiming a hope that the people would know that God had written God’s very self onto their hearts, and we still live into that covenant today. Because of that truth, we know that anything the world defines as loss, as death, is folly in the eyes of God;  just an opportunity for something new, some fresh fruit, to be born. 

To let go of our false selves, our egos and psyches, is the beginning of embracing eternal life. This is the reason we have come to "this hour" each Sunday morning.  That’s why we are go to church.  We see Jesus pouring himself out in the bread of life and cup of salvation, so that we can be poured out. What we experience in church is the dress rehearsal for the rest of our lives. And if we are willing to let go and lose our so-called lives, we will find them, and we will not only know that Good News for ourselves but we will show others, as well.  Brothers and sisters, the world wishes to see Jesus.  Will you show them?  

John 3: 16 says...

'Jesus said, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”'

--John 3: 14-21

Is there a more often quoted line of Scripture than John 3: 16? You used to see someone holding a sign that said ‘John 3: 16’ at major sporting events, and I’ve seen more than a couple of churches with billboards and electronic signage that read ‘John 3: 16.” But in none of those cases does anyone actually spell out WHAT John 3: 16 says, let alone what it means. The citation has become a parody, mocked by everything from the Netflix animated comedy America: The Motion Picture to the wrestler Stone Cold Steve Austin, who quipped that "Austin 3: 16 says I just whooped your…."well, I won’t finish that quote. 

These used to be everywhere.

So let’s talk about the most popular – and probably most misunderstood – sentence in the Bible. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” Longtime Episcopalians might recognize this sentence as one of the so-called Comfortable Words that a priest says after the Confession of Sin and just before the Passing of the Peace in our Rite I liturgies (or any Eucharist prior to 1976). Taken out of context it’s hard to tell who’s saying these words, to whom they’re saying them, or why. 

Jesus is the one who is speaking, but our lectionary doesn’t give us any further information. If we read a bit earlier, we learn that he is  speaking to Nicodemus, one of the Pharisees – that sect of Judaism devoted to the Law and keeping the traditions alive in the face of Roman occupation. This happens right after Jesus has performed his infamous Cleansing of the Temple, as we heard last week, and those religious authorities are upset. Nicodemus goes to Jesus under the cover of darkness. He’s intrigued by this rabbi from Nazareth and clearly sees that he is about doing the will of God, but his methods are confusing to the traditionalists. Nicodemus asks him to explain himself, give his platform, as it were, what are his ministry goals, etc. Jesus tells him – in the section just before the part we read this week – that a person cannot see the kingdom of God without being born from above, which is statement that isn’t just baffling to Nicodemus, but is still confusing for us today. Then Jesus brings up the story of Moses lifting up the bonze serpent in the dessert – a story found in the book of Numbers - and how the people who looked upon that bronze serpent were healed of their infirmities. In the same way, Jesus says, those who look upon him when he is lifted up – that is, when he is crucified – will also be healed. 

And then comes the famous line: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” What does Jesus mean here? What he doesn’t mean is that God gave the Son as some sort of penal sacrifice for the repayment of everyone’s sins – what is known as substitutionary atonement. This idea doesn’t even come into existence until the Mid-dle Ages, and today a lot of churches and preachers use this idea – that Jesus died to pay back to God for your individual sins because you’re a terrible person – as a means of guilt-tripping people into following them. It’s an abusive tactic and not at all in-keeping with what Jesus means when he says that God “gave his only Son.” The Greek word didomi used here means to “to give freely of one’s accord with goodwill.” That doesn't sound like substitutionary atonement to me. God’s gift, freely given to humanity, is God’s own self, not for the purpose of appeasing a bloodthirsty God, but so that the world can know God more fully, more intimately than ever before.

John 3: 16 gets quoted all the time, but does anyone ever hear folks quote John 3: 17? “For God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.” Too often churches and preachers use John 3: 16– and, honestly, John’s Gospel as a whole - to condemn those who do not actively or openly affirm the same beliefs as them, but it’s clear in verse 17 that that isn’t God’s plan. Jesus is not here to judge and condemn and punish but to draw people together, to bring them out of the darkness of ignorance, into the light of revelation.

We focus so much on John 3: 16 that the rest of the interaction with Nicodemus gets lost, including verses 20 and 21, where Jesus makes his mission clear: he is the light coming into a world where people have grown accustomed to darkness. It feels like home, maybe because in the darkness we get to enjoy our own illusions of light, our sweet magical memories of being righteous and pure, of having good intent, of having bright ideas and shiny opinions. We’ve been the heroes of our own story in the paradise of memory, after all. The darkness allows people to hide from the truth, be blissfully blind, so as to fit societal standards. Folks go with the flow in the dark. Maybe that’s why Nicodemus uses the nighttime to come see Jesus.

What shall be gained, then, by aligning with the light? The short answer is freedom, the freedom to see things – to see the world and to see ourselves – as they really are. And the freedom to be who we really are, namely the covenant people of God, remembering that when we look upon Jesus we find our healing, just as the people in the dessert found theirs when looking at the bronze serpent on the pole – which is, incidentally, still used as a symbol of healing on virtually every ambulance you see.

We must acknowledge, however, that the use of words like “darkness” and “light” or “black” and “white” have racial connotations and have been twisted over the years to equate that which is dark or black with being fallen or even evil, while light and whiteness are associated with purity and God. This is a sinful and false interpretation of Scripture and it must always been decried. Rather, a more appropriate dichotomy than darkness and light might be ignorance and revelation. Those to whom Jesus speaks through the words of John’s Gospel are those who are willfully ignorant, convinced that anything new will destroy them – they remind me of the Phantom of the Opera, who turns away from the “cold, unfeeling light.” 

But in Jesus is revelation, the unveiling of God’s love, mercy, and grace, that is free to all , and in this new covenant between us and God, mediated by Jesus through the waters of baptism, is true heal-ing and the kind of life that is rooted in the eternal love of God, for which God gave Jesus to the world, not for judgment, but that all may saved by love, mercy, and grace.

What Would Jesus Do??

'Then God spoke all these words:

I am the LORD your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.

You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I the LORD your God am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and the fourth generation of those who reject me, but showing steadfast love to the thousandth generation of those who love me and keep my commandments.

You shall not make wrongful use of the name of the LORD your God, for the LORD will not acquit anyone who misuses his name.

Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy. For six days you shall labour and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the LORD your God; you shall not do any work—you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns. For in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the LORD blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it.

Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long in the land that the LORD your God is giving you.

You shall not murder.

You shall not commit adultery.

You shall not steal.

You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor.

You shall not covet your neighbor’s house; you shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or male or female slave, or ox, or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.'

--Exodus 20: 1-17

'The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.'

--John 2: 13-22

What would Jesus do?  I used to see everybody and his cousin wearing those WWJD wristbands As Christians, that is a question that should be at the heart of every decision we make:  what would Jesus do?  Would he listen?  Would he show mercy and compassion?  Would he make a whip of cords and turn over tables in the church?  Yes.  Yes. And YES! 

The Cleansing of the Temple by Russian artist Alexander Smirnov

The Cleansing of the Temple, as we call this story, is one of the most compelling in Scripture.  It shows up in all four Gospels, which is rare, but here in the Fourth Gospel it is placed early in Jesus’ ministry, right after he turns water into wine, whereas the Synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke place this story during Holy Week—it’s the action that finally makes the authorities say “We’ve had enough of this guy!”  Here we see a side of Jesus we don’t see much.  He’s angry, and we don’t like him when he’s angry—Hulk Jesus, if you will.  

His anger makes sense, though, if we understand it. We might think he's angry at the moneychangers and the animals, but it's not these things themselves but what's behind them. He empties out the jars of coins from the moneychangers.  Their practice was perfectly legal, given that there were folks coming to Jerusalem from all over the world and they needed to exchange their money like we would if we traveled abroad, but these folks were charging extra for the exchange and extorting their customers.  Then Jesus uses his whip to drive away the livestock in the temple courtyard.  Like the moneychangers there were legitimate reasons for them being there because it was Passover and folks needed to buy an animal to sacrifice.  But the cost of one of these animals was ridiculous when compared to a perfectly good ox or lamb that could’ve been bought in the market downtown.  The reason that these animals were super special and extra holy was because they were sold in the temple court, which meant they were super extra expensive.  It’s like going to a baseball game and buying a bottle of water for $10 inside the stadium when you could’ve had the same bottle for $2 before you walked in.  All of this corruption and exploitation is what drives Jesus into a frenzy.  While it’s jarring to see, it’s also kind of cathartic.  Go get ‘em, Jesus!  Cleanse that temple!  Drive ‘em out!  THAT is what Jesus would do!  

We might not see it at first, but there’s a connection between Jesus’ actions in the Temple and the story from Exodus of Moses giving the 10 Commandments atop Mt. Sinai. The giving of the Law here is a sign of the Covenant between God and these wayward people whom God had brought out of slavery in Egypt and was leading into a new future. Part of that future was that they wouldn’t going to be like Egypt and all of those other empires, they would put their relationship with God and one another at the forefront of their lives – notice how the first four commandments are about being in relationship with God and the other six are about being in relationship with each other. To have a covenant with God means promising to be in right relationship with God AND with other people. 

This is what the religious authorities in Jesus’ time forgot. Relationship was not the point, maintaining power was, which is why those authorities entered into a covenant of collaboration and corruption with their Roman occupiers. Among the ways power was maintained was abusing the Temple, taking things that were perfectly legal and even necessary – like exchanging currency or selling the animals – and using them as means to keep the masses in line, exploiting the poor and making sure nothing ever changed.

Obviously, that’s not how Jesus operated. He confronts the moneychangers and sellers of livestock because he loves them all too fiercely to allow them to keep being used as instruments of greed wedged against the poor. He drives them out of the temple, turning the tables on this kind of enterprise, and any activity that divides and abuses, that uses power for wicked purposes. Business as usual in this system is not God’s kind of business.

So what kind of business is ours, who have entered a covenant relationship with God? Does the Church – both big and little C – today have the same particular responsibilities as the Temple did, to be houses of prayer, refuge, and support for the poor and the lost? How often is religion of all kinds used to entertain the folks inside the club and feed their greed, leaving others wanting on the outside? Maybe we need to actively turn over some tables, to upset the customs that incapacitate the poor and leave people feeling even more lost.

Several years ago I was working in a church of some means, and a person with whom I was very close scoffed and asked, “Do they worship money?” After the last 40 years and the rise of televangelism, mega churches, and celebrity pastors, I can’t blame this person for asking that. Lent is the time for us to let Jesus cleanse us of everything that gets in the way of God’s business. It’s true for each of us as individuals – what do I need cleansed inside me to be more mindful of and responsive to the needs of others? – and it’s true for churches, especially during transition – which tables need overturning, which part of our house needs reordering, reconnecting to both God and our neighbors? It is common for all the people of God to forget, just as the folks who received the Law from Moses in the dessert forgot, that relationship is at the core of who we are as participants in this covenant, our relationship with God and with each other. Every now and then we need to let Jesus in to turn over the tables, to reorganize us and get our houses back in the way God intended. Someone once said “God is a woman, and her house is a mess!” God loves us, Jesus loves us, too fiercely to allow us to be participants in systems that exploit and ignore the poor and those in need, and Jesus will find a way to clean up the mess.

Yes, we invite Jesus in to help us do this work on ourselves first, and also, we have a responsibility to actively call out and work toward dismantling the same kinds of corruption and exploitation in our world today as Jesus knew – if the church doesn’t do that, who will?! Notice that Jesus didn’t drive out the people in the Temple, he drove out the mechanisms of exploitation. We don’t denounce people, but we do denounce dysfunctional behaviors and the same corrupt systems that compelled Jesus to cleanse the Temple, namely the collaboration between religious and political power. We mustn’t be comfortable bystanders when we are called to be about God’s business, both within ourselves and in our world.  It starts with ourselves, remembering our covenant with God. Like those folks in the dessert, ours is a covenant grounded in right relationship with God and one another. When we do that work on ourselves we can more actively denounce corruption and exploitation within our churches, our governments, and every other system, turning over enough tables until God’s house is in order. That, I believe, is what Jesus would do.