Homily for Sunday Lent 5B, 21 March 2021 John 12:20-30; Hebrews 5:7-9; Jeremiah 31:31-34

Paradox, paradox, paradox.
Mystery.
Truth.
Revelation.
For us: light; salvation; life; glory.

In today’s Gospel Jesus speaks of his own glorification, and also of his giving glory to God the Father. The word “glory” occurs 40 times in St. John’s Gospel. That is, the noun “glory”, 18 times, and the verb “glorify”, 22 times. And in today’s brief passage from Hebrews, the author speaks of Jesus having been made perfect. The word “perfect”, in various forms, occurs 13 times in Hebrews. Both words, “glory” and “perfection” in their context are full of paradox, even apparent contradiction; and both point towards the meaning, the mystery, the power, the centrality of the saving Cross of Jesus.

Now the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified (Jn 12:23). Jesus will be glorified at his resurrection from the dead, and his ascension into heaven, and his eternal sitting at his Father’s right hand. But first, he will be glorified when he is lifted up on the Cross. That is: on the Cross Jesus will be publicly manifested, made visible, shown forth to the whole world, not just to Jews but to Gentiles also; not just in his own time and place, but for all times and all peoples whatever. To unbelievers this will be his moment of final shame and defeat. But to believers, this will be where Jesus triumphs definitively over his enemy the devil. Here on the Cross Jesus will win the victory over death itself. Here supremely Jesus will prove his love for us: love to the end, love than which none could be greater. Here also, God will glorify his Son. That is, when Jesus is lifted up on the Cross, God will make him radiant with light; he will set forth the power and majesty of Jesus as divine Son, as God’s self-Revelation, and as our Saviour. Through the Cross of his only-begotten Son, God the Father will manifest his love for the world, and give eternal life to us. So the Father will glorify the Son on the Cross, and the Son will glorify the Father; for their glory is one, as their love is one.

The perfection of Jesus spoken of in Hebrews has nothing to do with moral progress. Jesus, we read, was made perfect through suffering (2:10). That is, on the Cross, according to Hebrews, his mission was completed, finally accomplished, brought to its consummation. As this Letter expresses it, we have “eternal salvation” from the Cross, because here supremely Jesus exercised his High Priesthood; here he made intercession for us; here he offered to God the Father a holy, cleansing, reconciling, life-giving, all-sufficient, endlessly efficacious sacrifice. With St. John’s Gospel, the Letter to the Hebrews presents this sacrificial death as freely and deliberately chosen, glorious, triumphant, beautiful. But also, of course, it was all horrible, terrifying, unjust, cruel, inflicted on an innocent victim by wicked men; apparently the ultimate manifestation of sin, and the final triumph of iniquity.

Why this way? Why all that horror, that suffering, that dissolution? Why that freedom for us to choose, or to reject? Why did God not just declare sin abolished, and everybody henceforth free from its consequences? The answer can only be found in the mystery of God’s love, of his infinite goodness, of his superabundant mercy. For it is God’s will that we also be perfected, and glorified, together with Christ; that we be identified with him in ways that are most appropriate to us, in order to be identified with him also in ways that are far above us. It is God’s will, or his desire, and invitation, that we have in us that same love which Christ had when he handed himself over to death. This is our glory, and our perfection, and it’s what the Collect of today’s Mass asks for.

One disciple of Jesus who understood this in an outstanding way was St. Francis of Assisi. The Fioretti tell how Francis came to receive the marks of Christ’s wounds in his body. He was praying on Mount Alvernia, on the Feast of the Holy Cross in September 1224. “My Lord Jesus Christ”, said Francis, “I pray you to grant me two graces before I die. First: that I may feel in my soul and in my body the pain which you, dear Jesus, sustained during your most bitter Passion. The second is that I may feel in my heart that excessive love with which you, O Son of God, were inflamed, in willingly enduring such suffering for us sinners.”

Another great Saint who entered the mind and heart of Jesus, and truly lived according to the words of his Gospel, was our own father St. Benedict. As a youth he boldly renounced all the honours and delights which this world can give, and ran away to become a monk. This was his way of hating his life in this world, in order to keep it for eternal life. Today is the feast of Benedict’s passing, when the wheat grain fell finally into the ground. Now indeed, we believe, Benedict is honoured by God, and he is honoured also by us, as we celebrate the abundant fruit his life has borne for the Church and for the world.

What though about us? Is this all too much for us? Can we rise to these heights? or will we gently sink instead under the weight of our inherent mediocrity, our selfishness, our pride, our love of comfort and convenience, our failure of generosity?

When I am lifted up from the earth, says Jesus, I shall draw all men to myself. And it’s true. In spite of everything to the contrary, we find ourselves endlessly attracted by the Cross, fascinated by it, moved by it, drawn to it. The grace of the Holy Spirit is there of course, ever writing God’s law on our hearts, as announced in our first reading from Jeremiah. The Spirit pricks and prompts our consciences; he kindles us with desire for holy things; he prompts in us a certain distaste for worldly things, and a dissatisfaction with all that our fallen nature craves. And now, we also have the Holy Eucharist. At Mass we encounter directly the love of God which comes to us in Jesus Christ our Lord. We offer to God Christ’s saving death, and we participate in his victory, and his glory. At Mass Jesus feeds us with the bread of life, the nourishing wheat that first died in order to yield its harvest. So especially through the Mass we find ourselves already now where Jesus is: in the Father’s glory, in the Father’s love, in the Father’s joy.