Lent 5 | Unless a Seed Falls | John 12:20-33
When Jenny came to me for spiritual direction, I knew right out of the
gate that we were in trouble. She had read my book God as Nature Sees
God, and had been in a couple of my ChI classes, though she ultimately
did not go through the program. She had made an appointment with
me and was nervous and giggly as a schoolgirl when she arrived.
I lit a candle, saying, “Let this remind us that there are three
of us, here,” and suggested we take a couple of minutes to be
quiet and become fully present. Then I picked up my clipboard, and
smiled at her. “What’s up?” I said.
Then the gushing began. She began talking about how she wasn’t
worthy to be in the presence of such a spiritual giant, how inadequate
she felt, and how grateful she was that I would deign to see her. She
was, of course, describing the John Mabry of her exalted projections,
and not one that bore even a passing resemblance to that guy that was
actually sitting in the room with her.
I breathed a great sigh and stared at my hands. Sure it felt good to be
on the receiving end of so much adulation, but the flip side of that is
that it’s really depressing to realize just how short of that
mark I actually fall.
But the truth is, I’m comfortable with the real me. The question
was, would she be? There was just no way we could continue with the
session with me on this pedestal of hers. I am, after all, an extreme
acraphobe, and besides, her idealized projection of me couldn’t
really be any help to her at all. All it could do was let her down when
the bubble burst and she saw, no doubt with great disappointment, the
incredibly fallible person that was actually there.
The only thing to do in that situation was to climb down off of the
pedastal first thing. So what I usually do in that situation is swear.
Now, you have to be careful with this when you’re preaching,
especially when there are children around, but I am actually a great
fan of swearing as a tool for spiritual enlightenment. It’s kind
of a Zen thing to do. So I swore, for absolutely no reason, in passing,
and I must admit, I really enjoyed watching her jaw drop. Then I told
her that though I was all for her getting closer to God, I, in fact,
did not know whether such a being actually existed, and often took a
very agnostic perspective on things, and would that be all right with
her? Finally, I leaned in and leveled with her. I told her that I was
sorry to disappoint her, but I’m not, actually, a terribly
enlightened person. I’m actually a pretty sick puppy sometimes,
and as screwed up as anyone else. But if all of that was okay with her,
I’d be happy to companion her, not as the spiritual giant she
thought I was when we entered the room together, but as the deeply
flawed fellow struggler that I actually am.
And then she started crying. Not out of disillusionment, but out of
relief. Because I had dismantled the pretenses surrounding myself, she
could let go of hers. She no longer had to appear to me to be the pious
pilgrim on the path, with all of her earnest efforts on her sleeve. The
real person she was, the lonely, frightened person looking for an
anchor in the storm actually showed up, and the real work, her real
work, could actually begin. It was a good start to a very healing
process.
In our Gospel reading, Jesus has some similar dismantling to do. Just
as this woman was projecting all kinds of things onto me that
weren’t mine, Jesus’ country-folk are projecting all kinds
of things onto him as well. Many were expecting him to be a military
leader, the Messiah, who would lead a revolt against Rome and liberate
the Jewish people. Even some of his disciples were of this opinion.
But the New Testament writers are of a different opinion. For the
Jewish authors of the Gospels of Mark and Matthew, for instance, the
idea of Jesus as a military savior has to die, to make room for a Jesus
who is a spiritual savior, leading his people not to an earthly
kingdom, but to an inner state where the sovereignty of God is not
touched by the politics of this ephemeral world.
For the authors of the Gospels of Luke and John, however, the picture
is a little different. For them, the idea of Jesus as the savior of the
Jews has to die, to make room for the idea of Jesus as the savior of
the gentiles as well.
Now, when I talk about this stuff to Flavio, he puts it all into
reasonable perspective by saying, “I’m sorry, but
that’s just psychotic,” which is about what you’d
expect from a rationalistic Jewish psychologist. And it, too, is a
valuable perspective. Because none of these things describe how Jesus
actually saw himself. These are the projections of all the people who
walked into the room with their own ideas.
I don’t know if Jesus actually bore the sins of the world, but
I’ll tell you one thing for sure: he bears the projections of the
world, and has done it for a very, very long time.
There are few things as painful as being misunderstood, and I sometimes
wonder, if Jesus were with us in the flesh today, what he would make of
all the things that are being done in his name. Perhaps he, too, would
sum it up like a Jewish psychologist and say it’s
“psychotic,” but because these psychotic projections are
all about him, I’d be surprised if he weren’t kind of
depressed about it as well. After all, he’s only human,
isn’t he?
I’d like to suggest another shift in perspective. I’d like
to suggest that we withdraw two thousand years of projection onto Jesus
and simply let his words, his teaching, speak for itself. I’d
like to suggest that we allow the idea of Jesus who is the King of the
World to die, so that the suffering servant can make an appearance.
I’d like to suggest we allow the idea of Jesus as God to die, so
that Jesus the man can actually show up. I’d like to suggest that
Christ pantocrator, the judge of the world be allowed to retire, so
that Y’shua the rabbi, the teacher of compassion can be heard.
Christians throughout the ages have excelled at creating elaborate
fantasies about who Jesus is, building up pedestals so high that even
God would get a nosebleed at the top of them, and at what expense? At
the expense of actually hearing what Jesus was saying. The Christian
church has invested so heavily in the psychotic fantasies of Jesus as
God that we have completely ignored the earthly ministry and humble
teachings of Jesus the rabbi.
And what are those teachings? Heal the sick, feed the hungry, visit the
lonely, clothe the naked, bear each other’s burdens, care for the
stranger as much as you do for yourself, turn the other cheek, go the
extra mile, lift up the broken-hearted, forgive your friends, love your
enemies, pray for those who hurt you, God loves you just as you are,
and you can find God wherever you happen to be.
Anything other than this isn’t Good News. Anything other than
this has nothing to do with Jesus. Anything other than this is not
Christianity. Anything other than this is psychotic. Anything other
than this is not worthy of our attention.
Just as my directee had to be disabused of the notion that I was a
spiritually advanced soul for me to actually be of any use to her,
perhaps we need to let go of Jesus the Lord of the Universe so that
Jesus the Teacher of Compassion can be of some use to us. Only if we
allow our psychotic projections onto Jesus to die, can the radical
message he actually taught be heard.
And we do this not for ourselves alone. Jesus the Lord of the Universe
is a repugnant notion to those of other faiths with whom we ought to be
friends and fellow travelors. As long as we proclaim Jesus Lord of the
Universe as the One True Way to salvation, we erect a fence around him
and deny access to his wisdom for all of those who cannot buy into the
psychotic projections of history. And this is a tragedy, because Jesus
is not the property of the church, he does not belong to Christians
alone. Jesus belongs to the world, and his teachings are life to anyone
with ears to hear, regardless of who they are or what they believe.
Unless a seed fall to the earth and die, it cannot bring forth fruit.
Jesus is about to die, along with all of the projections his followers
are casting upon him. I suggest we let him. Let us pray…
Jesus, we know how painful it is to be misunderstood. We have seen how,
time and again, you become impatient with your disciples when they just
don’t get it. Well, Jesus, I imagine you are squirming in your
seat wherever you are, because we still don’t. Please have
compassion on us, and continue to teach us through the words of life
you have left for us. We may be clueless, but we are at least sincere
in our desire to follow the way of life you have forged. Help us, teach
us, pray for us, and whatever you do, don’t stop loving us.
Amen.