Walking in the Light
Preacher: Alastair Merrill, Vice-Principal (Governance)
Readings: Isaiah 55; John 12:20-36
Today’s reading is a pivotal moment, described by the master dramatist John. It marks the culmination of the first section of John’s Gospel, describing Jesus’ public ministry in the Roman province of Judea. Now that ministry is coming to an end, with the beginning of his glorification as he moves towards his death and resurrection.
Jesus has entered into Jerusalem as a sensation. It is already a time of festival, the week before Passover, the city is full of Jews and Gentiles. News has spread of his raising of Lazarus, four days dead. Jesus’ triumphant arrival into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday has seen the whole city turn out to see this celebrity.
John choreographs the scene meticulously as a true piece of theatre. The passage begins with a group of Greeks who have come to Jerusalem for Passover wanting to meet Jesus; they go first to Philip because of his Greek name, and ask them if they can meet Jesus. Philip discusses the matter with Andrew and the two of them go off to speak to Jesus. We don’t hear how Jesus replied to this request, or indeed anything more about this group of Greeks. But the moment, in the hands of John, is symbolically important. Up to this point, Jesus’ ministry has been amongst his own people in Judea. Now, John is saying, his ministry belongs to the whole world.
Jesus begins speaking to the crowd that has gathered, “Now the time has come for the Son of Man to enter into his glory”. John has built up to this moment, dropping clues from the earliest chapters in his Gospel. At the wedding in Cana, he has Jesus says to his mother, “My time has not yet come”. When he speaks with the Samaritan woman at the well, he says “the time is coming”. During Jesus’ previous visit to Jerusalem, John laconically explains away why the authorities failed in their attempt to arrest him for preaching blasphemy and sedition in the Temple – “his time had not yet come”.
But now the time has come. Jesus explains why his death is necessary to fulfil his purpose. A seed unsown does not produce fruit. True discipleship means sacrifice and humility, placing the spiritual ahead of the material.
Yet the crowd doesn’t get it.
Even when, with a cinematic flourish worthy of Cecil B de Mille, Jesus’ words are reinforced by a thundering voice from on high, they don’t get it. This isn’t what they were wanting to hear. This isn’t what they were expecting from the Messiah, the man who had just raised the dead, who had made a rock star entry into the city. For them, the Messiah would be a king who would live for ever, a superhero who would kick the Romans out and make everything all right.
Jesus appeals to them, saying – “My light will shine for you just a little longer. Walk in the light while you can so the darkness will not overtake you”. It is a hugely powerful image.
The metaphor of light and darkness appears throughout the Bible, from the early words of Genesis – let there be light. We now live in a world where light pollution abounds, where we rarely experience true darkness. In the Galloway Forest perhaps, or an overnight sea crossing on a small boat. But even there, light is usually available at the flick of a switch, the press of a button on a phone, or even the striking of a match.
That was of course not the case in Judea in the 1st century, where tallow candles or oil lamps were all that was available; their light was precious and needed to be husbanded. If it was extinguished, it could not easily be relit. For the people of the time, having a source of light was quite simply the difference between life and death.
So light was a well understood universal symbol of all that is good and right. The contrast is easy to understand – stumbling around in the dark can be frightening, disorienting, dangerous.
Again, ever the careful dramatist, John has prepared us for this moment. In that wonderful and moving very first chapter of his Gospel, he says “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness can never extinguish it”. He introduces John the Baptist as “a burning and shining light”. And in an earlier echo of this moment, he has Jesus telling the Pharisees at the Temple, “I am the light of the world. If you follow me, you will not have to walk in darkness”.
Now Jesus says, “Put your trust in the light while there is still time; then you will become children of the light”. There is a double exhortation here. To believe in the light and to walk in the light. Trust is important. But so is understanding.
Jesus’ message is about more than just blind faith. Light brings knowledge and understanding. Not for nothing do we talk of the enlightenment. Light dispels the darkness that is ignorance. The light from heaven that blinded Saul on the road to Damascus didn’t just make him fall off his horse. It brought the knowledge and understanding that drove him for the rest of his life.
Jesus is exhorting the crowd to walk as people who are conscious that the light is among them. To ask questions not simply to raise objections, but in order that they may seek the truth.
And there is hope and promise – to be children of the light.
Towards the end of the chapter, in the next passage after this reading, John describes Jesus shouting to the crowds, “I have come as a light to shine in this dark world, so that all who put their trust in me will no longer remain in the dark”.
These messages of trust, enquiry and hope have a real resonance at this time, and here in St Andrews.
We are about to enter the period of Advent, a time of hope, preparing for the celebration of Jesus’ birth. A time traditionally marked by light – the advent candles in the church, the lights of the Christmas tree, dispelling darkness, bringing comfort and hope when the nights are at their longest and the daylight is fleeting.
Next week will see the University celebrating the graduation of some 1078 of our students from 82 countries, the first time in two years that we have been able to do this in person. Over 650 students will be crossing the stage over two days of ceremonies. Graduation is a joyous moment of celebration. It marks the culmination of our students’ years of study and enquiry. It marks their transition to becoming part of that global community of St Andreans who will always regard this one square mile of North East Fife as home.
It is a time of hope and a time of celebration – perhaps too much to expect the mountains and hills to burst into song (particularly in Fife), but just possibly the trees of the field will indeed clap their hands as well as the families and friends of the students who will walk across the stage to receive their well-earned degrees.
But Graduation also reflects the importance of trust, in the values of tolerance, respect, curiosity and intellectual enquiry that make our community what it is. The values that dispel the darkness of ignorance, discrimination and prejudice, encourage respectful discourse. The values that enable our community of scholars to debate the difficult and complex issues of our time in a safe environment that prizes civility, kindness and respect.
And on Tuesday of course, we mark St Andrew’s Day. St Andrew, named as the first-called among the Apostles in the Orthodox Christian tradition. St Andrew, who is consulted by Philip about the Greek visitors’ request to see Jesus. St Andrew, whose relics according to legend arrived here when St Regulus was driven ashore by a storm to the settlement that was then known as Kilrymont.
As a one-time sailor myself, I well remember the sense of detachment during a night passage, when all is dark, you are far from land, navigating only by the loom of a distant light that you cannot yet see. I wonder if St Regulus, storm-tossed in his little boat off a strange shore, looking for shelter and a place to land, saw a lamp burning in the village and turned his boat towards it. If so, he put his trust in the light; he followed the light; and the kernel of faith he planted in Kilrymont grew to become the centre of pilgrimage, the cathedral, the town and the University of St Andrews.