Night And Light
Sermon
From Upside Down To Rightside Up
Cycle C Sermons for Lent and Easter Based on the Gospel Lessons
A friend of mine had rewritten a familiar proverb and used it ominously. “Just remember,” he said, “things always look the darkest before the lights go out completely.” There was something of that threatening anticipation which always washed over us on this darkening night. We join Jesus and his disciples as dusk falls. They did not know it yet, but within hours the blackness would become very bleak. Jesus would be arrested, they would be scattered, and even Peter would deny and reject his relationship with their very best friend. This was a dark night indeed.
John had prepared us for this. The great transition in John’s portrait of Jesus happened between chapters 12 and 13. The first half of the gospel has rightly been called “the book of signs,” since it focused on seven specific miracles through which the divine identity of Jesus was increasingly revealed. As the last of these miracles, the raising of Lazarus in chapter 11, was noised about, John told us that “Greeks” came seeking an audience with Jesus (12:21). “Greeks” was a code-term John used for “the world,” the larger designation of all peoples on earth, both Gentile and Jews. Remember how Jesus put it in his famous words? “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son…” (John 3:16). This was the language of Jews for the rest of humanity. Jesus’ signs were done so that the Jews might see, know, and respond to their Messiah. But now, even the Gentiles, the Greeks, the world had observed the light of heaven shining in the darkness and were coming!
Glory
This is the “hour” of divine revelation! When the “Greeks” came, Jesus knew that the “signs” had accomplished their goal, and the world was looking for its Savior. At this point, Jesus declared that his “hour” had come, the time of the full revelation of his glory that would take place through his passion. The scenes shifted, and John 13-20 became “the book of glory.”
Here in John 13, we are told that Jesus knew that his “hour” had come, and so he gathered his disciples for a final meal. Following Mark’s lead, the synoptic gospels clearly identified the final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples as a Passover celebration. Yet strangely, for all the other symbolism in the fourth gospel, John clearly steered away from that connection in chapter 13. Why?
The answer appears to have several parts to it. First, John deliberately timed the events of Jesus’ final week so that Jesus was tried and sentenced to death on Friday morning (at the same time as the unblemished Passover lambs were being selected), and crucified during the precise hours when the Passover lambs were being slaughtered in the temple courtyard. In this way, John accomplished a purpose that he indicated at the beginning of his gospel, to portray Jesus as the “lamb of God” (1:36). Thus, it was important for John not to identify the last supper as the Passover, since Jesus must die with the lambs who were being slaughtered prior to that meal.
Second, this does not immediately mean that either John or the synoptics were telling the story wrong. Instead, there were several different calendars functioning among the Jews of the day, marking the celebration of the Passover with slight variations. These came into being due either to the chronological ordering of each new day (Roman: sunrise to sunrise, or Jewish: sundown to sundown), or the perceived occasion of the new moon that began the month (adjusted differently by Babylonian and Palestinian rabbis).
Thus, Jesus and his disciples probably ate a Passover meal together, as the synoptics identify it, but one which was tied to a different calendar than that used by the bulk of the Jerusalem population. In this way, John could leverage the different schedule to communicate a particular emphasis in his portrayal of Jesus’ symbolic identity. Throughout the changes of the gospel, this understanding of Jesus girded everything.
This is why the foot washings took place. The dust of the old expressions of God’s activity with these folks was being washed away so that they might travel with Jesus into the new age. And the badge that would mark them would no longer be circumcision but rather a visible expression of love.
A World Waiting To Be Born
Nevertheless, this intimate gathering of Jesus with his disciples takes place on a very dark night. C. S. Lewis captured well the biblical tension between light and darkness in his space trilogy about Venus. The planet Mars, in his tale, was populated by an ancient race of God’s creatures who never gave in to the lure of evil, and remained holy and just. Earth, as we know, it had fallen under the domain of the dark shadows, and the great creator had posted warning signs around it in space. It is off limits to other races, quarantined until the end of time.
Venus, though, is a freshly birthed planet with a more recent “paradise” story of creaturely development. A newly formed pair, similar to Earth’s Adam and Eve, danced about in innocent delight.
The evil power in the universe would not allow a divine masterpiece to go long unmarred, however, and he sent a vicious Earth scientist named Weston to introduce sin on Venus by corrupting its lord and lady. In a countermove, the great creator sent an ambassador of his own to Venus. The universe held its breath as the future of this bright world hung in the balance.
Like Adam and Eve at Earth’s creation, and like the lord and lady of Venus, we are surrounded by dark powers, yet long for the light of redemption and love. Most of our lives we struggle to see more clearly. But grace breaks through, now and again, in moments of insight and illumination, and those are the moments we have to hang onto. Like a mother who brings a child into this world, God is protective of the lives birthed on planet Earth. When sin stains and decadence destroys, God’s first thought is to rescue and redeem and recover the children God so dearly loves.
So darkness threatens, with its denials, betrayals, and broken relationships. I think of Allison and Gary (not their real names), who were high school sweethearts and obviously in love when they first came to talk with me about marriage. Their backgrounds were similar and they had dated for over five years, so they knew each other well. Both families agreed that Allison and Gary were off to a great start.
Three years later they made an appointment with me. Things were a bit rocky in their marriage. Both were faithful to each other, yet each had begun to resent the time the other was spending on outside interests. Gary was into cars and racing; Allison delighted in clothes, work, and friends.
There was a bristling of the air when they talked. Something wasn’t right, and they knew it. Allison’s mom wanted them to talk with me, since she knew that marriage was for life. The two of them were not as convinced about the permanence of marriage, and both hinted that they might be ready to pack it in.
A year later they were separated. The house was sold. Gary took an apartment and Allison moved back in with her parents. The next year they got a divorce.
What happened? Allison said she always felt as if they were each listening to different music. Gary had the rumbling beat and twang of country in him, and she moved to the provocative drive of rhythm and blues. It was not that they particularly liked those two styles of music; rather, said Allison, it was a sense that each of them was responding to a different note or melody or beat in life. They couldn’t get it together.
Eventually both Allison and Gary moved in with other people. Neither married again. Their one attempt at finding “the right one” had convinced them that it would never happen again.
Some marriages go down in a blaze of adultery. So do some testimonies of Christian faith. Most, however, slip away through failed friendships. The bursts of passionate love and emotional testimony slide away as people forget to live together. George Santayana put it this way: “He liked to walk alone; she liked to walk alone. So they got married and walked alone together.” In the end, that is a recipe for disaster.
Love Feast
And so it plays out on this Maundy Thursday night. The great marriage of Jesus with his disciples is at its brightest. They are basking in “the hour of glory,” as Jesus put it. And Jesus is the perfect spouse, honoring his partners, hosting a celebration meal for them.
Still, the darkness threatened, and Judas heard a different love song. Judas slipped out into the night, earbuds catching a different and dark tune.
Peter was almost there with him. “No, Lord!” he said. “You can’t wash my feet!” Yet Jesus, the loving partner, went ahead with this most intimate act of devotion.
As the meal continues, Jesus sang the true song of love. This is why we are here tonight. If we want our marriages to last, we need the glue of friendship to make it happen. So, too, in our religion. Do not flirt with the lures and loves songs of this world if you want to stay out of divorce court on judgment day. Do not let the darkness win.
And it will not. Everyone is looking for a new tomorrow, the dawning of justice and mercy embracing, the time of healing and peace.
Easter is just around the corner for us, and in these darkest nights of Holy Week, we need the early morning rays of its promises. I can feel a new tomorrow coming on.
It is night and it is dark. But Jesus is here with us. And regardless of what comes tomorrow, he has a wonderful song of love for us. This is the “hour of glory.” This is the night of remembrance. This is the time of the “new commandment” that will keep us humming through the darkness until Easter dawns again ….and again and again.
John had prepared us for this. The great transition in John’s portrait of Jesus happened between chapters 12 and 13. The first half of the gospel has rightly been called “the book of signs,” since it focused on seven specific miracles through which the divine identity of Jesus was increasingly revealed. As the last of these miracles, the raising of Lazarus in chapter 11, was noised about, John told us that “Greeks” came seeking an audience with Jesus (12:21). “Greeks” was a code-term John used for “the world,” the larger designation of all peoples on earth, both Gentile and Jews. Remember how Jesus put it in his famous words? “For God so loved the world that he gave his only son…” (John 3:16). This was the language of Jews for the rest of humanity. Jesus’ signs were done so that the Jews might see, know, and respond to their Messiah. But now, even the Gentiles, the Greeks, the world had observed the light of heaven shining in the darkness and were coming!
Glory
This is the “hour” of divine revelation! When the “Greeks” came, Jesus knew that the “signs” had accomplished their goal, and the world was looking for its Savior. At this point, Jesus declared that his “hour” had come, the time of the full revelation of his glory that would take place through his passion. The scenes shifted, and John 13-20 became “the book of glory.”
Here in John 13, we are told that Jesus knew that his “hour” had come, and so he gathered his disciples for a final meal. Following Mark’s lead, the synoptic gospels clearly identified the final meal that Jesus shared with his disciples as a Passover celebration. Yet strangely, for all the other symbolism in the fourth gospel, John clearly steered away from that connection in chapter 13. Why?
The answer appears to have several parts to it. First, John deliberately timed the events of Jesus’ final week so that Jesus was tried and sentenced to death on Friday morning (at the same time as the unblemished Passover lambs were being selected), and crucified during the precise hours when the Passover lambs were being slaughtered in the temple courtyard. In this way, John accomplished a purpose that he indicated at the beginning of his gospel, to portray Jesus as the “lamb of God” (1:36). Thus, it was important for John not to identify the last supper as the Passover, since Jesus must die with the lambs who were being slaughtered prior to that meal.
Second, this does not immediately mean that either John or the synoptics were telling the story wrong. Instead, there were several different calendars functioning among the Jews of the day, marking the celebration of the Passover with slight variations. These came into being due either to the chronological ordering of each new day (Roman: sunrise to sunrise, or Jewish: sundown to sundown), or the perceived occasion of the new moon that began the month (adjusted differently by Babylonian and Palestinian rabbis).
Thus, Jesus and his disciples probably ate a Passover meal together, as the synoptics identify it, but one which was tied to a different calendar than that used by the bulk of the Jerusalem population. In this way, John could leverage the different schedule to communicate a particular emphasis in his portrayal of Jesus’ symbolic identity. Throughout the changes of the gospel, this understanding of Jesus girded everything.
This is why the foot washings took place. The dust of the old expressions of God’s activity with these folks was being washed away so that they might travel with Jesus into the new age. And the badge that would mark them would no longer be circumcision but rather a visible expression of love.
A World Waiting To Be Born
Nevertheless, this intimate gathering of Jesus with his disciples takes place on a very dark night. C. S. Lewis captured well the biblical tension between light and darkness in his space trilogy about Venus. The planet Mars, in his tale, was populated by an ancient race of God’s creatures who never gave in to the lure of evil, and remained holy and just. Earth, as we know, it had fallen under the domain of the dark shadows, and the great creator had posted warning signs around it in space. It is off limits to other races, quarantined until the end of time.
Venus, though, is a freshly birthed planet with a more recent “paradise” story of creaturely development. A newly formed pair, similar to Earth’s Adam and Eve, danced about in innocent delight.
The evil power in the universe would not allow a divine masterpiece to go long unmarred, however, and he sent a vicious Earth scientist named Weston to introduce sin on Venus by corrupting its lord and lady. In a countermove, the great creator sent an ambassador of his own to Venus. The universe held its breath as the future of this bright world hung in the balance.
Like Adam and Eve at Earth’s creation, and like the lord and lady of Venus, we are surrounded by dark powers, yet long for the light of redemption and love. Most of our lives we struggle to see more clearly. But grace breaks through, now and again, in moments of insight and illumination, and those are the moments we have to hang onto. Like a mother who brings a child into this world, God is protective of the lives birthed on planet Earth. When sin stains and decadence destroys, God’s first thought is to rescue and redeem and recover the children God so dearly loves.
So darkness threatens, with its denials, betrayals, and broken relationships. I think of Allison and Gary (not their real names), who were high school sweethearts and obviously in love when they first came to talk with me about marriage. Their backgrounds were similar and they had dated for over five years, so they knew each other well. Both families agreed that Allison and Gary were off to a great start.
Three years later they made an appointment with me. Things were a bit rocky in their marriage. Both were faithful to each other, yet each had begun to resent the time the other was spending on outside interests. Gary was into cars and racing; Allison delighted in clothes, work, and friends.
There was a bristling of the air when they talked. Something wasn’t right, and they knew it. Allison’s mom wanted them to talk with me, since she knew that marriage was for life. The two of them were not as convinced about the permanence of marriage, and both hinted that they might be ready to pack it in.
A year later they were separated. The house was sold. Gary took an apartment and Allison moved back in with her parents. The next year they got a divorce.
What happened? Allison said she always felt as if they were each listening to different music. Gary had the rumbling beat and twang of country in him, and she moved to the provocative drive of rhythm and blues. It was not that they particularly liked those two styles of music; rather, said Allison, it was a sense that each of them was responding to a different note or melody or beat in life. They couldn’t get it together.
Eventually both Allison and Gary moved in with other people. Neither married again. Their one attempt at finding “the right one” had convinced them that it would never happen again.
Some marriages go down in a blaze of adultery. So do some testimonies of Christian faith. Most, however, slip away through failed friendships. The bursts of passionate love and emotional testimony slide away as people forget to live together. George Santayana put it this way: “He liked to walk alone; she liked to walk alone. So they got married and walked alone together.” In the end, that is a recipe for disaster.
Love Feast
And so it plays out on this Maundy Thursday night. The great marriage of Jesus with his disciples is at its brightest. They are basking in “the hour of glory,” as Jesus put it. And Jesus is the perfect spouse, honoring his partners, hosting a celebration meal for them.
Still, the darkness threatened, and Judas heard a different love song. Judas slipped out into the night, earbuds catching a different and dark tune.
Peter was almost there with him. “No, Lord!” he said. “You can’t wash my feet!” Yet Jesus, the loving partner, went ahead with this most intimate act of devotion.
As the meal continues, Jesus sang the true song of love. This is why we are here tonight. If we want our marriages to last, we need the glue of friendship to make it happen. So, too, in our religion. Do not flirt with the lures and loves songs of this world if you want to stay out of divorce court on judgment day. Do not let the darkness win.
And it will not. Everyone is looking for a new tomorrow, the dawning of justice and mercy embracing, the time of healing and peace.
Easter is just around the corner for us, and in these darkest nights of Holy Week, we need the early morning rays of its promises. I can feel a new tomorrow coming on.
It is night and it is dark. But Jesus is here with us. And regardless of what comes tomorrow, he has a wonderful song of love for us. This is the “hour of glory.” This is the night of remembrance. This is the time of the “new commandment” that will keep us humming through the darkness until Easter dawns again ….and again and again.
