We encounter the emotionally troubled Jesus tonight. Last time we heard that phrase was when he was standing outside the tomb of his friend Lazarus. Again, tonight, Jesus is drawing near to death. I said last night that in the face of the sort of deep shifts and changes within that Holy Week and Easter potentially lead us towards, experience tells us that a little death, a little letting go, or a little saying goodbye is often necessary. 

This is not a new insight. For many years psychologists and psychotherapists have known that growth in self-knowledge and the impetus for change and development are often rooted in times of discomfort and disintegration. As we saw Jesus confronted by the death of his friend and as we see him confronted by his own painful path this evening I am reminded of some words by Brian Keenan who was held hostage in the Lebanon for four years. He wrote that during that time he chose to ask questions and not accept ready-made answers. He says, ‘we discover our own answers if we have the will to do so; and if we are not afraid of the confrontation with ourselves that such a journey might entail’. This week we see Jesus engaging with the process of discovering his own answers only to find that the truth is found deep within the heart of God.  We confront ourselves with the Jesus story in the hope that we too can engage in such a process of discovery.

Tonight we hear quite clearly that the road to a deeper and more enriching sort of life takes us through a place of death. ‘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.’ To get life we must give it up – that must be on of the hardest paradoxes of gospel living.

So, we ask ourselves. What must we give up and let go of? What must we allow to die? All that is not truly you; all that you have chosen without choosing and value without having evaluated. What I mean is everything that you have accepted because of someone else’s judgement rather than your own. Give up all the self-doubt that keeps you from trusting and loving yourself and other human beings. What will you gain? Your own, true self; a self who is at peace and knows why you have been created. You must give up other people’s approval; trust yourself to judge between success and failure. Nothing could be simpler and nothing could be more difficult. It could seem too difficult for us. We tend to think that Jesus had an unfair advantage, but we would be wrong. And to drive that point home, that is why John tells us that Jesus was troubled. He was troubled because he was like us. He was the Word of God, yes, but he was the Word made flesh. Our flesh, human flesh, flesh that shrinks from pain and fear as we do. The other gospels don’t show us this side of Jesus, not until the Garden of Gethsemane, at least. But here, John lets it be seen only halfway through his book. 

Jesus’ followers could not, or would not, understand this vulnerable side of him. They are always looking to sharpen their swords for the great Messianic conquest and everlasting victory. However, God’s glory is not to be won by the sword but by love; astonishing, self-giving love. I always have a hunch that Jesus is frustrated as the disciples refuse to ‘get it’ and he resorts to broad symbolic language about light and darkness. The light is with them for a little while longer, and they must stick with it, walk in it and believe in it. And that’s where we are too; after all, John told us at the beginning of his gospel that we are children of light.

Tonight we allow that light to fall on every aspect of our lives. We use it to discern what we need to let go of and what we are going to leave behind. Christian Spirituality is always about letting go. Letting go, so that we may be unburdened in order that we might follow wherever God is leading.