In my daily prayer times, I’ve been trying to reflect on the Gospel readings each week, paying special attention to what they might say about the topic of community and caring for one another. This week’s Gospel is from John 12:20-33, including these verses:
“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.”
It’s challenging but familiar, a welcome comfort as we pass through the grief of Lent. And that makes it easy to miss that this teaching is an answer to a question, to the simple request made to Philip by some Greeks at the festival: “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”
Jesus’ answer was more than anyone was looking for. The Greeks probably just wanted permission to meet the wise and compassionate teacher. Andrew and Philip were probably just looking to relay a “yes” or “no.” I can imagine being a little confused by Jesus’ answer – that’s very insightful, Jesus, but what am I supposed to say to these nice people who want to say ‘hi’?
Jesus was taking the opportunity to answer a different, and deeper, question. If we wish to see Jesus, where do we look? He says the Son of Man will be glorified, but his answer doesn’t take us to palaces or other places of power. Instead, he brings our gaze back to the earth: to the farmer planting wheat, the soil receiving and nourishing it, and the new growth bearing fruit. We usually focus on Jesus and his sacrifice – the wheat being planted – without thinking too much about the fruit. But Jesus’ act of love created a community of love. We are the fruit, growing out of his extravagant gift of grace.
We often describe ourselves as followers of Jesus in the little way of Francis and Clare. It’s not flashy, impressive, or marketable. It requires care, like a farmer paying attention to the soil, the climate, and the intricate web of living and dying that takes place under our feet. Planting a seed is an act of faith, letting it “die” in hope that it will sprout and bear fruit. Being in community is an act of faith, in hope that the risk of opening our hearts to one another will be met with love, understanding, and connection. Mutual care invites us to pay attention to our habits of relating to one another, contemplating all the little ways that our assumptions, and our egos, must “fall to the earth and die,” so that we can bear the good fruit of community.
In my experience, we can’t assume that the little ways we care for each other will happen automatically or by accident. It’s easy to overlook those ways unless we intentionally take the time, and it’s easy for our gaze to be drawn away. But this is part of the answer to that longing in each of us: “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” It’s so simple, and the work of our lifetimes.
One of the lessons we have continually been reminded of throughout the pandemic is how interconnected we are all, whether we like it or not. Similarly, both social and ecological justice issues remind us that our worlds are intimately connected, even if we create artificial boundaries that give the illusion that our actions, whether harmful or helpful, don’t have consequences. The last year has been terrifying in so many ways, but we’ve also witnessed wonderful acts of creativity, compassion, wisdom, and community. We carry both that pain and that joy with us: how do we care for each other? And how do we open ourselves to care, in the wake of tragedies and traumas we have felt and faced, especially in this last year?
As most of you know, I love to work with queries, letting questions simmer and listening for wisdom to arise. So here are some questions to plant in our hearts, gathered from the writings of Nora Samaran:
“What would it look like to belong in the world as our whole selves? What kinds of culture, knowledge, and community structures would we be able to create if we could nurture one another without our armor on, if we could draw out and develop the gifts in one another, if we could care for one another in concrete, meaningful ways, and could protect one another from systemic harms and forms of structural violence, even as we’re struggling to dismantle them? What do we already have waiting within us that can guide us in that direction?” (Turn This World Inside Out)
I believe these are the types of questions that can help us continually listen for the Spirit and follow Jesus by loving one another. Like a grain of wheat given to the soil, Jesus gave himself to the world in love, so that we could grow out of and into the love. The promise of Easter, the hope that carries us through, is also the promise of community, of life in the Spirit: the grain sprouts, grows, and bears fruit – us! I see Jesus in our little order, in one another. I see Jesus in each act of care, moment of joy, and expression of compassion we share. I see Jesus in the very act of faith that following him has brought us together. And I am grateful we have one another.