St George's Cathedral, Cape Town

A Sermon preached by The Reverend Bruce Jenneker in St George's Cathedral, Cape Town, at Evensong on the First Sunday in Lent, 21 February 2010

Come, Spirit of God, come.
Come as the fire and burn.
Come as the wind and cleanse.
Come to convict, convert and consecrate,
until we are wholly yours.

Rudolph Bing was Opera Manager of the Metropolitan Opera in New York City for 22 years. They were exciting years filled with exciting performances. It was during his tenure at the Met that Marianne Anderson became the first African-American to sing there. Describing the exhilaration of his work, Bing once said, “There are two sighs of relief every night in the life of an opera manager. The first comes when the curtain goes up The second sigh of relief comes when the final curtain goes down without any disaster, and one realizes, gratefully, that the miracle has happened again.” When the curtain comes down. The story ends. The denouement has been achieved. Those who must die have died. Those who will live happily after ride off into the sunset. The curtain falls.

“When the curtain falls,” Harold McMillan famously said, “the best thing an actor can do is to walk away.”

The Second Lesson appointed for tonight brought us the closing words of the twelfth chapter of John's Gospel. These verses which are set to be read on the evening First Sunday in Lent mark a dramatic turning point in ministry of Jesus. In fact they demarcate the ending of his public ministry. In 12:36 John writes, “After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them.” The curtain has come down. Jesus departs and hides.

Permit me to remind you what had happened before Jesus left the public scene and turned his back on the crowds

.

It was a week before the Passover. Jesus went to Bethany to visit his friends Mary, Martha and Lazarus. They gave a dinner in his honour at which Mary anointed Jesus' feet with a pound of costly perfume. The next day Jesus made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey as the people waved palm branches, shouting, “Hosanna, blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” Frustrated and indeed enraged by this outpouring of public support for Jesus, the Pharisees say to one another, “You see, you can do nothing. Look, the whole world has gone after him!”

Among the crowd were some Greeks who were eager to meet Jesus. When Philip brought them to Jesus, Jesus speaks ominous and portentous words: “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified, declaring that his passion must commence now, his suffering and death is at hand.

As Jesus turns to leave the crowds, he bares his soul, saying that he is deeply troubled and speaking about the end of his life. It is at this point that John writes, “After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them.”

The curtain has fallen. Done now is the inspiring preaching. Over now are the miracles of healing and power. Completed are the signs proclaiming that this is the Son of God, the word made flesh, full of grace and truth. Now Jesus departs, and leaves the crowds behind, hiding from them.

What follows is the long conversation that Jesus has with his disciples. Extended, intimate, poignant, a last testament to those who have committed themselves to following him, this farewell discourse is four chapters long.

The Second Lesson read to us this evening is the beginning of that final, tender and affectionate address.

Introducing these moving words, John tells us that Jesus cried aloud, from the depths of his heart. John presents Jesus at a staggering turning point in his life. Troubled and anxious, disturbed and distressed, three realities figure prominently in his awareness. The Father, who sent him, with whom he is one and whose words he speaks; himself, the light of world who came not to judge but to save, who speaks what the Father commands him to speak, the words of eternal life; and his followers, who must live in his light, hear his voice, and obey the commandment he speaks. It is the Father and his followers that hold him captive, he thinks on the relationships that bind them one to the other, him to the Father and the Father to him; the Father to us and us to the Father; him to us and us to him. Jesus, the Son of the Father, our light and our life, surrenders to the Father and dedicates himself to us.

The Lord of life, the light of the world, turns away from the crowds to face his agony and death, and as he turns to Calvary, he speaks to you and to me, to us who have heard his voice, have answered his call and walk in his way.

I came into the world so that you should not remain in darkness, Jesus says. The darkness lies heavy around and within us. The darkness around us is easy to recognize. Crime is ubiquitous. Our homes are barricaded, our streets are scenes of violence and terror. Gangs hold the power in our schools and in the malls. Corruption is rife among us. Bribes secure freedom for crime to continue unchecked. While there is much talk about 'stepped-up' commitment to service delivery, the homeless remain without homes, the sick without health-care and schools without the resources for learning – while those who have the custody of our common life raid our common purse to the tune of millions and millions of Rands. The good life in which decency and respect meet generosity and kindness is hard to find, our highest leaders are no role models for what is good and noble and true. Will we let the light of Christ light up our common life to convict, convert and consecrate it? Will we stand as bold reflections of the light, daring to penetrate the darkness and bear witness in it?

I came into the world so that you should not remain in darkness, Jesus says. The darkness within us is easier to hide and we deny it with impunity. The darkness of our arrogance and stubborn self-will that sees only one truth; the darkness of our prejudice against those whose life-styles are unfamiliar and perplexing; the darkness of our self-inflicted isolation that makes us lonely in the midst of crowds; the darkness of our addiction to power and control, the comfort of possessions, the cheap release of sex – these are deep secret darknesses of our hidden hearts. I came into the world so that you should not remain in darkness, Jesus says. Will we let the light of Christ light up the darkest corners of our hidden hearts to convict, convert and consecrate our lives? Will we risk the silence in which the light can penetrate? We will dare the stillness in which the light can speak the words of life?

Lent lies open before us. The curtain has fallen. The public ministry is over. Now begins the intimate engagement that secures our inclusion in the love that saves. Now the light of Christ shines – near, immediate, in my corner. Let us pray for grace to see. Now Christ speaks, now the word of life comes – direct, knowing and full of love. Let us pray for the grace to hear.

Come, Spirit of God, come.
Come as the fire and burn.
Come as the wind and cleanse.
Come to convict, convert and consecrate,
until we are wholly yours.

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