This gospel reading from John, at least the first part of it, must belong to the Top Ten – of most enigmatic passages of the Bible! Really, what does Jesus mean when he says all these things about the Son of Man being glorified and God being glorified in him and being glorified at once? Does anybody really understand? Since this will be my last sermon for a few months, I decided that I shouldn’t shirk away from this more complicated text and give it a try.
The first rule when you come across difficult scripture passages is easy: you take a closer look at the immediate context. What is the setting of this comment? What comes immediately before and after it? How does it fit in with the whole of the plot line? And when you do this in John 13, what happens is, Jesus’ comments become even more befuddling. Right before these comments about glorification he identifies Judas at the dinner table as the one who will betray him. And right afterwards, as Peter offers him his dying loyalty, Jesus replies by predicting his denial. I don’t know about you, but the context of this passage does not sound very glorious to me. It sounds rather inglorious and embarrassing. And amidst these events of culminating human sinfulness, the question arises: what in the world is Jesus trying to get at, saying: “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.”
Dear congregation, the best I can do to explain this, is to tell you that, at the heart of Christianity, in the bubbling volcanic center of our faith, there is something that refuses to be explained easily and runs counter to most things we call reality. I know, that’s deep stuff and if you say, “I don’t like things that are mysterious; I don’t like stuff that doesn’t make sense to the plain eye,” you probably will never become a fan of the gospel of John. And I can even understand you do some extent, because sometimes I feel the same way. I want to know: what kind of glory is Jesus talking about here? But in order to understand we need to go deep into the heart of our Christian faith. So, let’s try…
Last year, our older youth prepared for the National Youth Gathering in Detroit with a number of Bible study sessions. The studies were conducted with and by the youth participants and their leaders; other members of the congregation were invited as well. One of the Bible study topics held the lofty title, “Theology of the Cross,” a Lutheran favorite that, to this day, most people have trouble understanding or explaining. And sure enough, I don’t remember very much from that session, except one thing: most who attended the session seemed somewhat confused, like: “What was this supposed to mean?” I concluded afterwards that the Bible study instructions had been written by a professional theologian because only theologians can manage to be even more enigmatic than the gospel itself.
The theology of the cross, what is that? Let me tell you, it is in fact the key to understanding this mysterious passage from John 13. According to this view, God is glorified in Jesus’ death on the cross – and also in the suffering and betrayal that led up to his crucifixion – in Judas’ betrayal, in Peter’s denial, in the stupid crown of thorns that some drunken soldiers thought was so funny. In this view, suffering is not a wasted part of life, but is sacred and even a God-filled part of life. In this view, glory can be found in the least glorious places. In this view, even your biggest mistakes and mess-ups can be an entry way to God. Theology of the cross says: when you think you’re done, God is by no means done with you! Theology of the cross says: God is especially present in the dark alleyways of life.
It’s a paradox really. It runs counter to most people’s perceptions, but the deeper you dig into the volcanic rock of our faith, the more you realize that it is true.
Last week I visited a person in hospice care, in the last stage of life. I saw him several times, I saw him go down from day to day and it’s never a pleasant sight. People lose weight; they become boney and skeleton-like. They may not be able to control their bowel movements. In the advanced stages of hospice care, they are under heavy doses of morphine. Let me assure you, if you haven’t seen it yourself, few sights are less glorious than those. Yet, when a Christian pastor or a Christian person for that matter, goes to the bedside of one of our dying brothers and sisters, we smell more than the stench of death; we see more than the last movements of a decaying body. We sense the presence of God in that very room, in that mortal, suffering body, yes we sense God in that moment of apparent defeat. Because, according to our faith, according to the deepest tenet of our beliefs, God is there on the cross, in the dumps, in suffering, in the deafening silence of death. Whenever we confess that Jesus descended into hell, we say as much!
Now, of course God’s presence is not at all confined to those moments. God is much larger than the theology of the cross, bigger than any “theology,” which are all human constructs. Of course, God is more, is creator and giver of life, birth, growth, evolution, celebration. But that much is pretty clear and apparent when you look around. The Christian gospel reveals what is not so apparent, that the darker moments of life are God-filled also and full of salvation. That’s why Jesus used this paradox language, at least in the gospel according to John: “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.”
Will I remember this the next time I feel empty or in some way God-forsaken? I don’t know. But chances are, I may actually remember it, now that I have engaged in this conversation with John 13. And I hope you too will remember that the glory of God does not depend on your ability to be successful or spiritual or wise. God has her own rules and is able to meet you in Jesus in the most inglorious places. If you believe that, you got it – the gospel, the theology of the cross and the most beautiful paradox of our faith.
Amen.