“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” (John 12:24)
Wheat is often used as a symbol of rebirth, or new life, or sometimes of the life of a community. A few years ago, the kids and I planted a tabletop container of wheat at the beginning of Lent. Nothing happened for the first two days. On the third day, we noticed that the seeds were swelling and starting to put out little roots. By the fifth day, there were little green shoots pushing up out of the soil. In the second week, there were days when you could almost see the shoots growing, reaching for light. Four full weeks into Lent, the wheat grass was about 10 inches tall. The fruit of our wheat garden was the fruit of reflection, of patience to watch it grow, of wondering at God’s amazing creation.
Before watching that wheat spring up in the middle of our dining room table, I never really understood how the symbolism of wheat connects to Easter. Now I know!! It takes three days for wheat to germinate. Three days to die and come back to life.
The wheat berries fall as single grains. They die: they are no longer the tight seed they were. They put out little white roots. They become something different: new life, potential that was in them all along, bursts from within them. No longer little red berries; they become gangly green grass. All because of a little tenderness, water, and warm sun light.
Watching the wheat grow and change reminds me of the sacrifice inherent in our Lenten disciplines. Sacrifice is offering something precious to God as a form of worship. When we face our temptations and to re-orient ourselves to God, we offer ourselves to God. What could be a more precious offering to God than a beautiful, unique bit of God’s own creation? As a parent, I treasure every offering my children give me, no matter the size. And I believe God treasures every effort we make to offer our selves and our lives to God.
Those morphing wheat berries could tell us about sacrifice. About losing one form to take on another. About wondering if they have the energy to grow, or what they will become as they grow and change. About the miracle of hidden, God-given life potential springing from within them - unexpected and exciting and frightening, all at once. The joy of living crowded all together, in community with others who have experiences of dying and rebirth. About discovering a new and marvelous form that promises more life to come. They could tell us how they miss their old form. And how they didn’t even know how constrained they were by their rigid outer husk of bran.
In the Gospel today, Jesus says out loud that his soul is troubled (Jn 12:27a). He knows that what remains for him in his ministry is to die. Rather than ask God to spare him from sacrifice, he acknowledges that offering his full self to God is the fullness of his purpose and ministry, “Father, glorify your name” (Jn 12:28a). Sacrifice and offering. What could be a greater gift, greater sacrifice, than to entrust oneself fully and completely to God’s purpose?
In Jeremiah today we hear about a new covenant promised by God. A covenant is a contract of relationship in which each party agrees to do something to remain in relationship. This new covenant is a love letter that God writes on our hearts. A promise, written in indelible holy ink on the depths of our being, that God will never leave us. That God will always forgive and forget our sins, and love us more than we could ever imagine - all because we are created in the holy and beautiful image of God.
For our part, what makes this covenant new is our capacity to be faithful. In the Old Testament, the heart is also the seat of intention or will. With God’s promise written on our heart, our will is changed forever, from the inside out. No longer a covenant of external obedience to God’s commandments, we are made anew for loving God who loves us, and living our best life of faithfulness.
As followers of Jesus, who shows the ultimate example of loving God and living faithfully, we re-focus on God’s desires for our health and wholeness, so that new life can spring from the potential that God has already planted within each of us. Released from our husks, we find ourselves in the company of many who journey this same path. With hope, we reach for warmth and light, stretching and growing toward God.
Transformed by our trust in God’s promise of new life, we bear fruit by reflecting God’s love to the world. We become more aware of the Holy Spirit working in the world around us. We find our passions ignited: to know our neighbors’ names and stories, to address injustice, to bring peace to places of violence, to center the voices of silenced and invisible children of God. Our focus on our needs fades as we encounter and respond to Jesus’ face reflected on friend and stranger. We encourage one another to speak and act with faith, creating God’s kingdom. Finding our roots in this faithful community, we offer our new shoots and fruits to God’s purposes.
This is the last week of Lent before Holy Week. Next Sunday is Palm Sunday, when we begin the journey with Jesus through his Passion to the cross and death. This week, continue on with, or begin (it’s not too late), whatever you have chosen to think and pray about this Lent. Whatever discipline has been the wheat berry you or God planted and watered and has been growing in you. Be ready to bring that bit of yourself that might need to die with you to Holy Week, to offer it to God as a sacrifice and prepare to wonder at the new life and faith that is preparing to burst forth and grow.
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