Reflection on John 12: 20-33 for the Fifth Sunday in Lent

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”

The words startled Philip, who had been lost in his own thoughts even in the midst of the pressing crowds who had come to Jerusalem to worship at the time of the Passover festival. They shouldn’t have startled him, really—“We wish to see Jesus” had become an increasingly familiar refrain that he heard many times a day these days. Word of Jesus’ teachings and miracles continued to spread like wildfire, and as the crowds of people continued to seek Jesus out, it was commonplace not just for Philip but for all of the disciples to be sought out like this. People wanting to see Jesus for themselves would approach one of the disciples, hoping that they might be persuaded to put in a good word, to be the advocate they needed to gain them a personal audience with Jesus.

These men weren’t like most of the crowds they’d all become accustomed to -- that was evident in their Greek accents. The accents set them apart from the mainly Aramaic speakers in the crowds. But other than the accents, nothing in particular stood out about them.

Philip wondered what it was that had brought these men to seek Jesus. Were they curious, hoping to see a miracle, like so many of those who had sought Jesus out? Were they among those who sought Jesus, desperate for one last shot at healing, either for them or for a loved one? Were they intellectuals or religious men, curious about Jesus’ teachings about the true nature of the faith? Or, because in recent days Philip and the other disciples had become increasingly aware of the gathering forces of people Jesus had angered with his radical positions, could they be seeking Jesus out in hopes of picking a fight or gathering evidence against him? So many people sought Jesus out for so many reasons. Philip took a closer look at these faces, trying to guess what their motives might be.

The variety of reasons that people sought Jesus fascinated Philip. He himself hadn’t come seeking Jesus at all—rather, it was Jesus who sought Philip, who found him in his hometown of Bethsaida and invited him to be his disciple with the simple invitation: “Follow me.”

The decision to accept that invitation—to impulsively leave behind his daily routine to become this man’s disciple, along with his friends Simon, Andrew, and Nathanael, had turned Philip’s life upside down in the past three years. He had witnessed the miraculous—from the wedding feast when, at Jesus’ word, jars of water had become the finest of wine, to more recently when Philip had seen with his own eyes as Jesus visited the tomb where Lazarus had been lying dead for four days and, with a word, called the dead man out, unbound him from the linens in which his body had been wrapped, and brought him back to life. Philip had hardly been able to believe what he had seen, but earlier this very week, he himself had sat down at table for a feast with both Jesus and Lazarus, and had seen the man eat, had heard his laughter, had even shook his hand. There was no way around it—the man had been very much dead, and he was now every bit as alive as ever. Philip could never have predicted any of this three years ago, and increasingly found himself trying to make sense of it all.

Of course, the tensions had also been mounting ever since the miracle of Lazarus, and more and more the rumour was that the religious leaders were looking to bring Jesus in for questioning, to arrest him—and not only that, but there were also threats against Lazarus, for being the man at the heart of all of the rising controversy. Now that Jesus was in Jerusalem for the Passover, concerns among the worried disciples were more numerous than ever. And Jesus’ increasing references to his own burial, and the crowds insisting on proclaiming Jesus the King of Israel, and Philip’s own questions about what it all meant, and what would happen next—all of these were weighing heavily on his mind. Until the Greek speakers arrived, startling Philip out of his own thoughts.

Shaking off his own thoughts and questions, Philip nodded to the two men, and, after a brief word with Andrew, who was also standing nearby, the two of them went to tell Jesus of the men’s request. Having a concrete mission helped to take Philip’s mind off his worries.

At least, that was true until Jesus responded to their request.

Instead of offering a straightforward response to the men’s request to meet him, Jesus’ response puzzled Philip more than ever.

“The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified,” Jesus began. Jesus had been talking about this “hour” ever since Philip could remember—but until very recently, it had been “my hour has not yet come.”

But just when Philip thought that the climax of the story was coming—that Jesus was going to liberate the people from the foreign powers controlling the land, teach them to walk in God’s ways once again, bring the healing and hope that the people so desperately needed—just as Philip’s pulse began to quicken at the thought of Jesus finally being glorified before all people, so that more people could see the miracles, receive healing, and be liberated from their sins—just then, Jesus continued to speak.

“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.”

Philip was confused. These didn’t sound like the words of a man who had not long ago healed a dead man and restored him to life! These didn’t sound like the words of a man who had allowed a blind man to see, made a lame man walk again after thirty-eight years, restored the health of a dying little boy.

How could dying bear fruit? What on earth did death and being glorified have to do with one another? And how was any of this related to the Greek men who simply wanted to see Jesus for themselves?

Then, Jesus turned from speaking to Philip and Andrew to praying to his Heavenly Father, talking about his soul being troubled as “this hour” approached. “Father, glorify your name,” Jesus prayed earnestly as Philip and Andrew stood by uncertainly and the curious crowds of onlookers continued to press in.

Then came another one of those moments that Philip would remember until his dying day: An otherworldly voice filled the air, a voice that seemed to come from heaven itself: “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.”

The crowds looked to the sky, searching for the storm clouds from which the thunderous sound must have come, trying to gauge how soon they might have to run for cover. Some within the crowd insisted that it was no ordinary thunder—that there had been words within the booming noise, that it must have been a heavenly messenger speaking to Jesus.

Jesus alone seemed reassured after the noise receded. His words stirred the hopes of those looking for a new King to drive out the foreign powers in Israel: “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.”

It wouldn’t be until much later that Philip recalled Jesus’ words, and heard the truth that he hadn’t been able to grasp on that day. That he realized that Jesus wasn’t to be exalted in the way that the crowds, and even some of his disciples, had hoped he would be.

It wouldn’t be until later that Philip would recall Jesus’ words and understand that Jesus was to be lifted up in a way that nobody could have anticipated. Lifted high above the ground on a cross, to await his death. Several days later, lifted up out of the grave—restored to life. And still later, lifted up before their very eyes, ascending to heaven to return to the presence of the Father until his return.

It wouldn’t be until later that Philip would understand that the crowds who saw Jesus as a wonder-worker and interesting teacher weren’t really seeing Jesus at all. Not in full, at least.

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* I'm preaching on this text this coming Sunday, and while I've decided this isn't the direction I want to take for the sermon, I thought I would share my imaginings of this text anyways, from the 'discard pile.'