Mass readings for the 5th Sunday of Lent:
Jeremiah 31.31-34 Psalm 51.1-2,10-13 Hebrews 5.7-9 John 12.20-33
In our gospel reading we find an interesting chain of events. The apostles are approached by people described as “Greeks” – they want to meet Jesus. These disciples in turn tell Jesus of the request; and in hearing this, Jesus is prompted to declare, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified…”
And we know what that means: the Passion of our Lord will soon begin.
So, this approach by these “Greeks” appears to be a sign that Jesus is waiting for, a signal to go ahead where there was the possibility that, indeed, the events of Holy Week we know so well, might have been put off for another year. No “Greeks” then everything is delayed.
It’s an intriguing thought. But then we know that God has prepared all things for their time, and the work of readying humanity for the revelation of God made flesh spanned eons of time. Christ does not appear in the flesh at the dawn of humanity, he is not incarnate among the Hebrew slaves in Egypt, nor does he come among Israel in the days of the Davidic kingdom when, perhaps, that kingdom might have been saved from its decline and eventual fall. Well, the purpose of that kingdom was not to create a small preserve for a faithful few among fallen humanity for eternity. The kingdom of Judah, the city of Jerusalem, and the people of these places were part of a plan of salvation that comes to its first fruition in the person of Jesus.
This is all to say, Christ comes at just the right time, but that time is judged by God according to the disposition of humanity; and God will not force us into anything, but just as we are called to heed the signs of the times, so too does God watch us and wait for his opportunity to reach us, and make his offer of eternal communion and everlasting life.
So, who are these “Greeks” we hear of today? Well, they are not literally people from Greece – rather, what we have here is verbal shorthand for “foreigners.” Greek was the lingua franca of the ancient Roman Empire. I know we are apt to think it should be Latin because that’s what was spoken in Rome; but the overwhelming majority of the empire’s subjects, particularly in its Eastern territories of which Judea was a part, had as their common language, Greek. Now, there is some discussion of just how “foreign” these Greek-speaking foreigners are.
This could be referring to gentiles, that is, non-Jews who are in Jerusalem as tourists, or to be more generous, spiritually curious pagans. And we know that in Jesus’s day there were many such people, and they are referred to as “God-fearers” – and these Greek-speaking gentiles were known to attend synagogues, sitting in the visitor gallery because they were intrigued by the religion of Judea. Judaism was different from the other cults that were active at that time. For one thing, Judaism did something other religions didn’t do, or do particularly well: it had a moral vision; it incorporated into its worship ethical ideas. For pagans, up to this time, religion was one thing that concerned itself with rituals meant to please the gods who would then protect the people; morality, the matter of living life ethically, you got that from philosophers who could teach you about how to live well. Judaism puts these two things together, and so too, does Christianity.
Jews from abroad, from outside the Holy Land, who live in what we’ve come to call the Jewish Diaspora were also referred to as “Greeks.” These are people who identify as being Jewish, and regard Jerusalem and the Temple as the centre of their religion. They keep the customs of Judaism, celebrate Passover where they live; that is, in the other cities of the Empire and not in Jerusalem, but they no longer speak Hebrew. Their everyday language is Greek; and indeed, they even read the Hebrew scriptures in a Greek translation known as the Septuagint. And while trying to maintain their distinct identity as Jews, they are more and more seen from the perspective of Jerusalem as foreign people, and so, a little suspect in terms of their authenticity as true Jews.
But no one will turn them away, these pilgrims from across the empire – they bring much needed money into the economy of Jerusalem and its surrounding region; their material support is necessary to maintain the Temple and its priesthood.
And by the way, as I’ve mentioned before, this sort of thing was normal in the pagan world. There were special holy places for pagans that were supported across the empire. Some people might never actually visited the Oracle at Delphi, but they would send their questions, along with money and other gifts, to support what was essentially an ancient psychic hotline. Ephesus, which I mentioned last week, was home to a major shrine to the goddess Artemis, and this drew thousands of pilgrims every year to a temple built to what was a local god; but its being so spectacular it drew visitors from far and wide. Think about the number of non-Catholics who visit the Vatican, St. Peter’s Basilica and the Sistine Chapel every year.
So, did spiritual tourism instigate the passion and death of our Lord?
No, I’m not saying that. What is clear, however, is that Jesus is concerned that among those who will witness the coming events, there are representatives from the wider world. Not unlike those wise men from the East who came at his birth, he is looking to ensure that what is about to transpire is something more than a local matter, but rather one of significance to the Greek-speaking Jew from Ephesus, and the God-fearing Roman who’s come from Syracuse or Alexandria. His sacrifice is to have that global scope, that greater meaning – this doesn’t just concern the little world of Judea, the obscure politics of 1st century Jerusalem. No, the sacrifice is for those who’ve come to the holy city for any number of unspecific reasons, for those who are there on an intentional spiritual quest, for those seeking to deepen their understanding of their faith by coming for the Passover.
We will have people coming to this place of worship, perhaps not coming from great physical distance, but through initiatives like Alpha, like Into the Breach, like those touched by our outreach through our compassionate care ministry, those who come because they hear the music is good, or many who will come because its Easter, some will be like those ancient Jews who kept Passover in places far from Jerusalem, but this year make a point of coming because, well, it’s time. They come for different reasons, some more profound than others, but their coming is this signal to us who are Christ in the world. And, yes, that is a call to sacrifice. To give of ourselves so that the mystery of the cross is conveyed, the love of God shown. Our work is not so much to offer explanations, but the opportunity for spiritual encounter, for recollection, for rediscovery, for reconnection with a God who has either grown distant, been taken for granted, or in the curious spirituality of so many, familiar in a way that makes of Christ less one’s Lord and more an old friend we’ve lost touch with.
They will come, and we pray that by what they see and hear, encounter through us, this will, perhaps, drive out from their lives what has ruled them for too long, and then draw them to Christ, to his cross in remorse and repentance at first, but at last in the joy of thanksgiving.
Amen.