We Wish to See Jesus

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” What an odd request! It was Sunday. The great crowds who had begun gathering for the Passover festival had heard that Jesus was coming. They had gathered in the streets, shouting, “Hosanna,” at him, ready to anoint him as king. Why had these Gentile Greeks – we don’t even know how many of them there were – approached Philip asking to see Jesus? Hadn’t they been among the crowds? Hadn’t they seen Jesus then? Had they missed Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem and now wanted to find out what all the fuss was about? Perhaps they were God-fearers, Gentiles who sympathized with Judaism. What did they hope to see? Did they expect to see a king? Perhaps they hoped to share in the new political regime that this triumphant king would surely inaugurate. Or perhaps they’d heard about the healings Jesus had done and were seeking healing for one of their own. Or since Greeks generally did not believe in miracles, perhaps they’d come for some learned philosophical discourse. Gingerly, they approached Philip, who then went with Andrew to ask Jesus. Would Jesus actually be willing to meet with them?

The Gospel account doesn’t tell us whether the Greeks actually got a face to face meeting with Jesus. In a sense, it doesn’t matter. In this part of the story, the “Greeks” represent the totality of the human race. They stand in for all those outside the Jewish fold who will also be drawn into covenant with God through Jesus’ Passion. Jesus has performed all the miracles he is going to perform. He has shown forth all the signs of his identity as God’s son. The approach of these non-Jews signals to Jesus – and to us – that now the time has finally come for Jesus to take the next step on his journey: to the Cross and beyond.

Before Jesus can take that next step, he needs to make sure that the “Greeks,” if they are still there, his disciples, and the crowds, know just what that next step means. He needs to make sure that his followers “see” him as he truly is, and that they understand what following him will mean for their lives. So, for all who have ears to hear, Jesus sums up the gospel in three succinct statements. First, he tells his hearers that the seed of grain must die before it can bear fruit. Embracing the death he knows is coming, Jesus reminds his hearers that death must precede eternal life, and that without death there will be no life. Second, Jesus warns his hearers that they are called to “hate” their own lives in order to gain eternal life. Jesus is not counseling self-destruction or self-hatred. Instead, Jesus reminds his hearers that they must let go of everything in their lives – and in the world – that separates them from God and from God’s love. Finally, Jesus promises his hearers that those who follow him will be honored with him by God the Father. As he calls out, “And what should I say – ‘Father, save me from this hour,’” Jesus reminds his hearers that discipleship means following him specifically from death to life, but that God’s promises of life are trustworthy and sure. If his hearers are inclined to doubt, the voice from heaven provides a reassuring affirmation that Jesus – and his followers – have chosen the right path.

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Conservative church leaders were delighted, while social activists were disappointed, when Oscar Arnulfo Romero was chosen in 1977 as Roman Catholic Archbishop of San Salvador.1 Most people thought that Romero was a pious, scholarly bishop who would not make waves or call for change. Three weeks after his consecration Romero was called on to officiate at the funeral of his friend Rutilio Grande, a Jesuit priest who was assassinated because of his commitment to social justice. Deeply shaken by Grande’s death, Romero experienced what many considered a personal transformation. Amidst the violence engulfing El Salvador, Romero became an outspoken champion of justice. In his weekly sermons, which were broadcast throughout the country, he detailed all the ways in which the government trampled on human rights. When he visited the Vatican in 1979, he presented the Pope with seven detailed reports of institutionalized murder, torture, and kidnapping in El Salvador. Early in 1980 he sent a letter to President Jimmy Carter, appealing for an end to U.S. military support of the Salvadoran government. Drawing strength and courage from peasants, Romero embraced the cause of the poor. Indeed, he identified care for the poor as the defining characteristic of Christian discipleship. “A Church that does not unite itself to the poor,” he said, “in order to denounce from the place of the poor the injustice committed against them is not truly the Church of Jesus Christ.”

Romero was shot to death on March 24, 1980 while celebrating Mass at a small chapel near his cathedral. Only the day before he had preached a sermon in which he called for soldiers as Christians to obey God's higher order and to stop carrying out the government's repression and violations of basic human rights. Many believe that his assassins were members of Salvadoran death squads, including two graduates of the U.S.-run School of the Americas. Romero is buried in the Cathedral of the Holy Savior. More than 250,000 people from all over the world attended his funeral mass on March 30, 1980. On May 23rd of this year, in San Salvador's central square, Oscar Romero will be beatified by the Catholic Church. Having seen the face of Jesus in the poor and oppressed, Oscar Romero was privileged to follow his master in the way of the Cross.

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” “Show me Jesus,” the young man said to the pastor. Someone told me that you talk about his life and miracles every Sunday. Show me this Messiah who came to save the world.”2

The pastor led him into the parish hall, which was filled with chairs and tables. The young man looked at the people lined up in the foyer, and he smelled the food. “Here, help with the meal,” the pastor said. An elderly woman led him to the kitchen and handed him a potato peeler. He began to peel potatoes.

“Why did you come here today?” the elderly woman asked. “I want to see Jesus,” the young man replied.

“Then why don’t you go up front and help dish out the food?” He began to serve out the soup. An old man thanked him for giving him a hot meal on a cold day. A girl he knew from school smiled at him.

Then someone handed him a bowl of soup. “You’ve been working hard,” the man said, “sit down and have something to eat.”

“But I didn’t come here to eat.”

“Why did you come here?” the man asked.

“I came here to know Jesus.”

“Then go and sit with the people he loves,” the man said, gesturing to the crowd eating at the tables before turning back to serve the next person soup. The girl he knew from school motioned him to sit down beside her.

“This is a good place if you are hungry and lost,” she said. “I haven’t seen you here before. What brings you here today?”

“I asked the pastor to show me Jesus,” the young man said.

“And have you seen him?”

“I’ve seen people working together to help other people, and I’ve seen hungry people fed,” the young man said. “But I’m not sure I’ve seen Jesus.”

“Maybe you need to know why the other people are here,” she said.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“Because I was hungry, and I know that when I come here I receive more than just food,” she said as she put her empty bowl in a tub of soapy water.

The young man went to the man serving soup to those waiting in line. “Why do you give food to these people?”

“Jesus asks me to feed the hungry,” the man said.

The young man went into the kitchen and asked, “Why do you make food for people you don’t know?”

“Because Jesus tells me to love my neighbor,” the elderly woman replied.

The young man went back to the hall and saw the pastor eating soup at a table. He sat down next to him. “I asked you to show me Jesus,” the young man said.

“Did you see him?” the pastor asked. “Did you see his love and concern for others, the generosity of his heart, and the change he brings into people’s lives?” The young man thought for a moment and nodded. “I think I’ll come back and help tomorrow, and come to church on Sunday too.”

The pastor smiled. “Then you have done something more than simply see Jesus. You have begun to follow him.”

Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit
that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for the honor of your Name. Amen.

1. Based on Robert Ellsberg, “Oscar Arnulfo Romero, in All Saints (New York: Crossroad, 2000), 131-2.
2. Based on Peter Andrew Smith, “Showing them Jesus,” in Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit, Series VII Cycle B (Lima, OH, CSS, 2011), 67-70.