As they walked behind their Master on the donkey on the road down to Jerusalem, listening to the praises of the crowds for Israel's true king, I wonder if any of them – his disciples, I mean – reflected on where they'd been before they met him. For the most part, they'd only known him three years. But some of them had known each other longer than that. At least three of the twelve, and maybe five of them, were from the same little village, a place of maybe two hundred people – certainly, when Jesus called them all, it made an impact there! They were from Bethsaida, a fishing town on the northeast side of the Sea of Galilee.
Unlike the villages on the west side, Bethsaida was a bit conflicted. Sometimes it was considered part of Galilee, but not always; other times it was assigned to Gaulanitis, and they probably did a fair bit of business with the less Jewish regions to the north and east of them, including the thoroughly Greek Decapolis cities. Other than those cities, Bethsaida and the further villages were under the rule of a man named Philip, son of the quite infamous Herod and half-brother to Galilee's ruler Herod Antipas. Maybe it was after this Philip that Bethsaida's own Philip – eventually one of Jesus' twelve – was named. For Jesus' Philip, as the Gospel tells us tirelessly, was from Bethsaida, where he grew up alongside a pair of brothers, Andrew and Simon (the latter now being called Peter). And given that Zebedee and his sons James and John were partners in the same fishing business that Andrew and Simon worked for, it's safe to say they were local to Bethsaida or a nearby village.
So I can picture the scene, maybe four or five years before this fateful Passover of Passovers. It's a sabbath day under the new moon. There's no work today, no fishing to be done. The boats are empty, but the synagogue in Bethsaida is full. There sit Andrew and Simon. A few rows behind them, there sits Philip. Maybe James, John, and Zebedee are somewhere in there, too. They don't know Jesus yet. But they will. Up front, the reader has unfurled the scroll of the Prophet Isaiah to the end. It's time to hear from the close of the prophecy. “The time is coming to gather all nations and tongues. And they shall come and shall see my glory, and I will set a sign among them. And from them I will send survivors to the nations, to Tarshish, Pul, and Lud, who draw the bow, to Tubal and Javan, to the coastlands far away, that have not heard my fame or seen my glory. And they shall declare my glory among the nations. And they shall bring all your brothers from all the nations as an offering to the LORD... to my holy mountain Jerusalem … For as the new heavens and the new earth that I make shall remain before me, says the LORD, so shall your offspring and your name remain. From new moon to new moon, and from sabbath to sabbath, all flesh shall come to worship before me, declares the LORD” (Isaiah 66:18-23).
Flash-forward four or five years, in some of the villages or towns or cities north and east of Bethsaida. There, more than a few sons of Javan, Greeks, live. Some of them stand apart from their Jewish neighbors, disdaining them or even hating them, and worship their own native gods in the sophisticated pagan temples built there in their towns. Others, less caught up in hostility, are more opportunistic with their gods – they'll worship their own ancestral gods, they'll worship the Jews' God, they just want to be polite to the divine of every kind. And a few, having perhaps met a persuasive Jewish missionary, have been captivated by this message of the one supreme God who made all things, rules all things, redeems all things. Being drawn toward the local synagogue, maybe they heard the scripture read there, not only in its original Hebrew, but in a Greek line-by-line translation – attuned just to their ears. Bit by bit, they surrendered attachment to the gods of their mothers and fathers, and fell in love with the God proclaimed in the synagogue. And though going all the way to become Jewish seemed a bit physically costly, they knew there was no going back. They began to attend the synagogue, worship the God of Israel, and live in obedience to the Laws of Noah, which the synagogue ruler told them would allow them, even as Gentiles not party to the covenant through Moses, to have hope of finding life in the kingdom of God when it came.
One day, maybe these God-fearers heard a perplexing story by a very excited man who passed through town from one of the Decapolis cities. He shared how he'd been overtaken once by thousands of wicked spirits, who held him in the tombs and made him a menace to himself and others, until one day they'd been stirred up by a new presence arriving on the shore. Screaming at this Jewish man named Jesus, they hissed in terror at him as the Son of the God of Israel, the Living God Most High – and with but a look of compassion and a word of command, this man had been freed of the spirits, restored to wellness in a way no other gods could've achieved, and commissioned to spread the message of his mercy to all in the Decapolis and the villages around it. So who, the God-fearing Greeks must have wondered, was this Jesus?
Later, as all the Jews set out for Jerusalem for a great pilgrimage feast, the Passover, some of those God-fearing Greeks – and maybe some of their polite-to-all-gods friends and family members – decided to go. For the polite ones, it was sure to be an interesting vacation, with plenty of fascinating rituals to watch or maybe even find a way to take part in. For the devoted ones, it was a chance to celebrate the mighty actions of God, who long ago had delivered not only the Jews but also a mixed multitude of non-Jews out of Egyptian slavery. Off these went – these Greeks, I mean – to the already bursting-at-the-seams capital of Judaea. The Passover was near, and the Greeks – whatever their motives – came, as Isaiah had foretold, “to worship at the feast” (John 12:20).
As they stand in the outermost courts of the temple, the bustling bazaar called the Court of the Gentiles, filled with vendors and currency exchange booths. It was... distracting, to say the least, for these Greeks who came to worship in the direction of God's temple, albeit from a distance – for no closer than this were they permitted to approach the holy place, on pain of violent death. The feast had not yet begun, and yet in the thick of all the crowd, suddenly they heard some unusual chanting. “Hoshea 'ana! Hoshea 'ana!” “Save us now, save us now! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord – the King of Israel!” The crowds around were too dense to see much of the procession, save for a figure seated a little bit higher, on a small donkey (John 12:12-15).
The Greeks, I imagine, must have been curious. Asking someone in the crowd what was going on, it was told them that a great prophet, and perhaps the awaited king from David's line, had ridden into the city. He was a teacher rumored to open the eyes of the blind. He confused people by welcoming not only the most upstanding of Jews but even lowly Samaritans and unclean Gentiles – “no offense,” perhaps their informant told the Greeks – and traveled from place to place announcing the arrival of that kingdom of God in which the God-fearers prayed to somehow find life. Now, everyone was saying that that man – yes, that one right there, in the crowd, from a village not far from here – had been dead not that long ago, but had come to life again when this king gave the order. Life and death were in the man's hand, so how could he not be the king? How could a kingdom established by heaven not be here? That's why, said the informant to the Greeks, these Jews are so vivaciously waving palm branches of victory around this man they're acclaiming the rightful king of Israel. “His name! His name! What is his name, man?” asks one of the Greeks. “What, you haven't heard? Jesus,” comes the reply.
Jesus! Jesus, who braves the tombs! Jesus, who conquers demon legions by his voice! Jesus, who makes right what otherwise can't be cured! Jesus, who overturns death after the fact! Jesus... who welcomes even Gentiles? They've got to see Jesus! think these Greeks. Some of them, the just-polite ones, mumble about the heroes of ancient myth. But the others, the God-fearers of the synagogue, feel their heartbeats quicken. They've been living for this day, the revelation of the glory of the Lord to the nations. But they've got to hurry before Jesus passes the barrier into an inner court where Greeks may not go. Pressing around through the crowd, they see an almost familiar face: Philip of Bethsaida. Maybe he sold them fish once. But he's been pointed out as a student of this teacher, and with a Greek name like 'Philip,' he feels like a safe bridge. “Sir,” they tell him with all honor and respect, “we want to see Jesus!” (John 12:21). “Wait here,” Philip tells them. “I'll see about that.”
Off Philip goes, approaching a more senior apostle – his friend Andrew, the only other member of the Twelve with no Hebrew name, only a Greek one, though both of course were Jewish. And together, they come to Jesus. To the frustration of the Pharisees, who are already despairing that the whole world seems to be falling in love with Jesus (John 12:19), they tell him that some Greeks are asking to see him. These Greeks, out of place at the Passover, lost in a sea of Jews and scarcely able to worship in their far-off courtyard on account of the moneychangers and animal-sellers, say they want to get close to Jesus, hear from Jesus, lay eyes on this Jesus.
Philip and Andrew might be skeptical, wondering if the Greeks are mere religious tourists, all of the just-polite brand, doing their common pagan duty of paying token honors to every temple and every god, and seeing Jesus as one more chance to play all sides, curry every favor. But, on the other hand, the Pharisees speak more truth than they realize. The whole world is going after Jesus. The approach of these Greeks is a sign that the hour is ripe. That's clear as Philip and Andrew tell him what's happened (John 12:22). And Jesus has some thoughts.
Whether these Greeks got their wish to see Jesus, John technically doesn't tell us – though I'd have a hard time believing that they didn't. Within 24 hours before or after their request, Jesus would weave a whip to terrify the moneychangers and animal-sellers for their preventing the temple from living up to its purpose of being a house of prayer for all nations – these Greeks by no means excluded (Mark 11:15-17). But now, in this same temple, Jesus calls out to his Father, and the Father thunders from heaven – though not all understand the sound (John 12:28-30). And to the crowds, Jesus explains his hour of glory.
“Now is the judgment of the world! Now will the ruler of the world be cast out!” (John 12:31). The world, in its fallen state, has long lay under the sway of the devil's deception. Since the primeval garden, Satan has been the deceiver of the world. Is it any wonder Pontius Pilate harbors such contempt for the chosen people, and yet is given power? Is it any wonder the Sanhedrin will show merely the outward form of a trial in order to get rid of a perceived threat? Is it any wonder the nations bow to false gods foisted upon them in their temples? Satan has deceived them, and through his deceptions, through his influence, through his webs of entrapping sin, he holds the world as a whole in his sway. To the extent he's able, the devil has stamped the world with his very own malformed character. And in this indirect way, it's him most of the world worships: “The god of this world has blinded the eyes of the unbelievers” (2 Corinthians 4:4). And so he exalts himself as “ruler of the world.”
But if the world is going after Jesus, if even Greeks are asking to see him, then the time has come for the world to be both judged and saved – judged insofar as it serves its ruler willingly, saved insofar as it has served him unwillingly. For the time has arrived for the ruler of the world to be cast out, chased away, forced into retreat. This world-ruling devil is about to make a grave tactical error in motivating Judas to betray Jesus, setting in motion the course of events that lead to the cross. For in condemning Innocence-made-Flesh, the powers will be signing their own death warrant. Satan's hatred of Jesus will be his own undoing, dethroning him as de facto ruler of the world, excommunicating him from the cosmic community, exorcising him so powerfully that even his apparent advances in the future will always be really retreats.
For “the reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the works of the devil” (1 John 3:8), to overthrow the devil's rule, to break apart the devil's rickety strongholds, to untie the devil's knots and let loose these binding ropes that strangle God's good creation. Everything the devil's done to infiltrate Israel? The Son of God appeared to destroy those works. Everything the devil's done to hoodwink Greeks and other Gentiles? The Son of God appeared to destroy those works as well. And how can the Son of God destroy those works? “He partook of flesh and blood, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death – that is, the devil – and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery” (Hebrews 2:14-15). As St. Augustine explains it, “Through his blood which was poured out for the remission of sins, thousands of believers were freed from the domination of the devil, were joined to Christ's body... This he called judgment – this distinction, this expulsion of the devil from his own redeemed ones. … However huge the siege machines [Satan] erects against us, since he does not hold the place in the heart where faith dwells, he has been cast out.”1
“And I, when I am lifted up from the earth...”, Jesus says (John 12:32). Even the God-fearing Greeks might've understood what he was getting at. Earlier in Isaiah, there's a song that declares how God's true servant “shall understand, and he shall be exalted and glorified exceedingly” (Isaiah 52:13 LXX). No wonder Jesus declares that “the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified” (John 12:23). In other words, it's time for him to live out the words of that song. But the song goes on to say, “This one bears our sins and suffers pain for us” (Isaiah 53:4 LXX); “he was led to death on account of the acts of lawlessness of my people” (Isaiah 53:8 LXX). Jesus spoke of being lifted up from the earth – but lifted up on the cross, lifted up in blood and gore against the rough wood and sleek nails. “He said this to show by what kind of death he was going to die” (John 12:34).
From the moment he declares the arrival of his hour of glorification, he highlights the cross. Crucifixion is Gentile Rome's great tool of shame, their way to inflict death on those they deem least worthy of life – slaves and thieves and ungrateful rebels. Jesus is going to be seated on a cross, pinned to it by cruel nails. It's going to so horrify creation that the sun hides its face in darkness and the earth trembles in anxious outrage. And yet it will lift Jesus up between earth and heaven. And there, what the crowds prayed with palm leaves a-wavin' will come to pass. Blessed is the one who came in the name of the Lord all the way to grim Calvary. Save us now! Save us now! Now he is saving – saving by bleeding his sin-dissolving blood down on your darkness, saving by breathing out blessing in the face of your hate, saving by offering his body for your life-giving food and his soul as a perfect human life of worship into his Father's hands. And his words, which of themselves save when welcomed and judge when shunned, he speaks from the cross with royal authority. Because here is crucified Jesus of Nazareth, King of not only the Jews, not only Israel, but King of the Universe. The cross is his throne. Here, to die, he is lifted up. Here, at the cross, he is exalted. Here, at the cross of mortal shame, he is glorified.
“And I, if I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all to myself” (John 12:32). Being glorified on the cross, of all places, is disconcerting even to Jesus: “Now is my soul troubled,” he openly says (John 12:27). Yet it's the reason why he came. It's how he destroys the works of the devil. It's how he undoes the power of death that binds the world in needless fear. It's how he glorifies God his Father – and how his Father glorifies him (John 12:28). It's so much like it is with a grain of wheat. If a grain of wheat stays above ground and keeps its life and identity intact as a grain, then it remains alone. But if the grain of wheat is buried, if the grain of wheat will surrender its identity and life as a grain, then in what looks to us like its death, there – precisely there – it grows. There it becomes fruitful, life-giving to so many, as the wheat appears to feed the world (John 12:24).
Because Jesus deserves no death, his execution will be the world's self-condemnation. Because Jesus is lifted high on the cross, the erstwhile 'ruler of the world' will be chased away by the cross-reigning King's edict of expulsion, echoing down through millennia until the destruction of the devil's works is complete. Because Jesus surrenders his life as a seed for life, he plants fruitfulness for all who will receive. And in that, his cross really is the hour when he is glorified as the true Son, the true Servant of the Lord. And in being thus glorified in this incomprehensible way, in answering the begging hosannas with his dying groans within days, he draws all people and all things together into a new unity, a unity in himself, in whom the creation itself has its being.
The approach of the Greeks is a sign of it, a sign of what this week of the passion will mean. They want to see, they want to hear, they want to believe in the King and his kingdom. They have these desires because the cross is already drawing them along, out of Satan's clutches in which the Jewish, Greek, Roman, and others' worlds have so long been ensnared. Early Christians will be in wonder how the cross causes sin's retreat and Satan's condemnation, how every power of death is sent fleeing from the cross, how the cross of Christ drives out demons and reclaims souls. The glory of the crucified king is vindicated over and over again, down through the ages, as his passion compels the darkness to retreat, as his regal mercy wins over hearts from every tribe, as his loving richness answers the deepest cries of every culture and offers it a Savior King to trust and follow. For “if anyone serves me, he must follow me,” and “if anyone serves me, the Father will honor him” (John 12:26). And so from every nation, drawn into the one new humanity in Christ, people have followed Jesus in laying down their lives in his service, seeking an honor from the Father that the one who once ruled this world has no power of comprehending – for the darkness does not grasp the light of truth that expels it.
To this day, the advance of the gospel – the message of a King judging the world by being judged, saving the world by dying, enthroned on a rugged cross, glorified most fully in the moment he dies, and soon to show it by ripping death apart from the inside-out – is step-by-step driving out the darkness, whipping the devil and his minions like moneychangers who don't belong. This gospel of the King exalted on the cross not only exorcises the darkness to pave way for a dawning light, but it entices all creation – including people both like and unlike us – to wish, as those Greeks at the Passover did, to come and see Jesus. So the words of Isaiah are true. All flesh will come to worship the Lord, not merely at the Jerusalem on earth, but at the Jerusalem of a new heaven and new earth. Declaring our King's glory among the nations, fishing like Philip and Andrew for all people, we can hope – through their eyes – to rediscover what a majestic thing it is to see Jesus. Exorcise, exalt, entice – cast out darkness, lift up Jesus, draw all to his salvation. That's what the palms wave for. Save us now! Amen.
Prayer
Almighty God and Father of our King Jesus, your Christ, you sent your Son to destroy the works of the devil and to rescue us out of the domain of darkness and deceit and into your kingdom of inexpressible light and truth. You intend to gather all nations, all peoples, all tongues, all things in creation, into a great unity in Christ, one new creation whom you draw out into life with the fishhook of the glorious cross. Death and devil, baited into biting, are being destroyed; we, baited into biting, are being liberated and renewed. Though once we had not seen your glory, Lord God, now we see you crucified, Lord Jesus, Son of God. The powers that once ruled us are cast out from our hearts by faith in you. Ride in, O Savior King, to set up your cross-throne there, to rule over faithful hearts with your love. Save now! Save now! Be exalted within us, exalted in our eyes, exalted in our words, for you are the Blessed King who saves the world. Make us a holy offering with you to your Father, and gather us into the New Jerusalem to forever worship you at an everlasting feast. Until then, make us a New Bethsaida, a house of fishermen enticing all by exalting you. In your regal name, we bow before your cross in worship, entranced by your crucified glory. Amen.
1 Augustine of Hippo, Tractates on the Gospel of John 52.6.2; 52.9, in Fathers of the Church: A New Translation 88:284, 286.
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