A Peculiar Definition of Glory
Text: John 17:20-26
There’s a song from singer Bruce Springsteen that topped the Billboard charts in the summer of 1985. It was called “Glory Days” –a song remembering the good old days from way back in high school. It’s kind of ironic, that in 1985 I was just in high school, and this year marks the 20th Anniversary of my own graduation… So admittedly this feels a little weird.
In the song, Springsteen weaves this tale of a guy longing for the good old days when he and his friends got all the attention, whether in sports, whether they were popular in school. It literally was their moments of glory… and they spend the rest of their lives longing for what has gone by. For Springsteen, this is not necessarily a good thing…
I think all of us have had these moments of glory at one point or another in our lives. A moment of recognition for hard work, a winning play in a sporting event, a moment where the public spotlight for one reason or another falls on us. Andy Warhol called it our “15 minutes of fame.” –Although it doesn’t necessarily have to be in eye of mass media… It’s more that recognition and honour from one’s peers for an accomplishment. We call this “glory” It is such a powerful feeling that once it’s all over, there is a real temptation to try and recapture it. Perhaps it’s human nature, but it is a strong temptation that we face. I know that I’ve preached on this before.
Glory is one of those intangibles… because it’s a word that shifts so much depending upon the context. It ranges anywhere from a moment of both achievement and recognition at the same time, to the glowing radiance of the divine presence. These days, most of the time we talk about glory, it goes hand-in-hand with sports. If you’re an Ottawa Senators fan, you know the feeling… Mind you, these days, any Canadian team making it to the Stanley Cup final captures the essence of what we understand glory to be. Yet our definition of glory and God’s definition of glory seem to be something entirely different.
Take the gospel of John that we heard this morning. I’ll be honest, I imagine that most people’s eyes tend to glaze over when we listen to these more obscure, almost esoteric kind of passages. By the time that we get to this morning’s passage, Jesus is heavily in the midst of a rather long prayer, explaining that this is now his moment of glory. It comes in just before John’s telling of the Passion.
The excerpt goes like this:
20“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, 21that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, 23I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.
John has this tendency to use pronouns a great deal, it’s as if we’re listening in on a private conversation… and there is a lot of inside talk. The downside is that we’re often left scratching our heads as to exactly what he’s talking about. Yet through this prayer, we get an insight into that thread that John was after.
It’s not so much as to what Jesus says as much as where in the story we hear him say it. He pontificates at length about his glorification, that his “hour has now come.” But what does that actually mean? We think we know what glory means… and if Jesus is talking about his moment of glory, we’re waiting for the crowd’s adulation, the moment where we see the kingdom of God shining forth so that everyone will see it.
But we know the rest of the story. Immediately after Jesus talks about this glorification, that his hour has now come, Jesus is betrayed, arrested, tried, mocked, beaten, and crucified. He is literally hung out to dry with the mocking title of “King of the Jews” hung over his head. That’s not exactly the kind of “moment of glory” that we’ve come to expect. Not even close.
But that’s the point. John reminds us that God has a peculiar definition of glory.
When I was doing research this week, I came across the story[1] of a man, a banker, a wonderfully pious, deeply Christian person. In the loan department of his bank, he became aware of a systematic, though completely quiet and unstated practice of denying loans to persons in ethnic minorities. Of course, there are federal laws against such discrimination. But he became convinced that, through subtle pressures, and a corporate culture of non-compliance, his bank was violating the spirit, if not the letter of the law.
Through prayer, he decided to complain about this practice to bank management. He came up with the figures, documented his case. He was not making a big deal out of it, not trying to start trouble, nevertheless, he wanted the management to change their practices. Exactly one month after he initiated his process, he was fired.
The bank said that they were going through some reorganization. But he knew why he was let go. He was out of work for over seven months. When he finally got a job, it was much less of a job than he had at the previous bank. People in our congregation said that he had had a period of bad luck. Many told him, during his time of unemployment, “I know this is a hard time for you.”Jesus might have said, “This is your hour to share in my glory.”
Our response to what Jesus says might be one of confusion… But this is a peculiar definition of glory… This manager did the right thing, and yet his reward was economic martyrdom: he lost his job, precisely because he did the right thing… but then again, as we are so often reminded: Jesus lost his life for doing the right thing. As Christians, we believe that Jesus as the embodiment of God’s love was never a more glorious and self-evident sign of God’s magnificent love than when he was hoisted up on a cross. This was his hour of glory. In today’s reading, Jesus promises us a share in some of that glory... yet it’s not exactly the kind of glory that we expect.
It's human nature to want to feel validated, honoured, respected for who we are and what we do. Yet as Jesus reminds us, that need for glory can often get in the way of our relationship with God. Like the characters in Bruce Springsteen's song, we end up trying to relive those moments of glory, to recapture that sense of adulation from others... or worse yet, trying to seek out attention and demand that others recognize us for what we do. In essence, we're placing ourselves in a space that only God can occupy.
Yet ironically, God's glory, the glory that flows from the experience of the cross is something quite different. That even the lowest point of God's own experience is greater than any human triumph, and in that we realize something of God's glory. It is not the affirmation or adoration of others that makes it a moment of glory, but the very opposite... to show us that in the midst of our own darkness, no matter how dark it might get, God's glorious light shines into the deepest darkest recesses of our own lives. It shows us that we don't need the adulation and affirmation of others, but that God sees each and every one of us in the same loving light. Jesus shares that love and glory with us... and calls us to share that love with one another.
Amen.
[1]From William Willimon’s Pulpit Resource for May 20th, 2007.
There’s a song from singer Bruce Springsteen that topped the Billboard charts in the summer of 1985. It was called “Glory Days” –a song remembering the good old days from way back in high school. It’s kind of ironic, that in 1985 I was just in high school, and this year marks the 20th Anniversary of my own graduation… So admittedly this feels a little weird.
In the song, Springsteen weaves this tale of a guy longing for the good old days when he and his friends got all the attention, whether in sports, whether they were popular in school. It literally was their moments of glory… and they spend the rest of their lives longing for what has gone by. For Springsteen, this is not necessarily a good thing…
I think all of us have had these moments of glory at one point or another in our lives. A moment of recognition for hard work, a winning play in a sporting event, a moment where the public spotlight for one reason or another falls on us. Andy Warhol called it our “15 minutes of fame.” –Although it doesn’t necessarily have to be in eye of mass media… It’s more that recognition and honour from one’s peers for an accomplishment. We call this “glory” It is such a powerful feeling that once it’s all over, there is a real temptation to try and recapture it. Perhaps it’s human nature, but it is a strong temptation that we face. I know that I’ve preached on this before.
Glory is one of those intangibles… because it’s a word that shifts so much depending upon the context. It ranges anywhere from a moment of both achievement and recognition at the same time, to the glowing radiance of the divine presence. These days, most of the time we talk about glory, it goes hand-in-hand with sports. If you’re an Ottawa Senators fan, you know the feeling… Mind you, these days, any Canadian team making it to the Stanley Cup final captures the essence of what we understand glory to be. Yet our definition of glory and God’s definition of glory seem to be something entirely different.
Take the gospel of John that we heard this morning. I’ll be honest, I imagine that most people’s eyes tend to glaze over when we listen to these more obscure, almost esoteric kind of passages. By the time that we get to this morning’s passage, Jesus is heavily in the midst of a rather long prayer, explaining that this is now his moment of glory. It comes in just before John’s telling of the Passion.
The excerpt goes like this:
20“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, 21that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. 22The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, 23I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.
John has this tendency to use pronouns a great deal, it’s as if we’re listening in on a private conversation… and there is a lot of inside talk. The downside is that we’re often left scratching our heads as to exactly what he’s talking about. Yet through this prayer, we get an insight into that thread that John was after.
It’s not so much as to what Jesus says as much as where in the story we hear him say it. He pontificates at length about his glorification, that his “hour has now come.” But what does that actually mean? We think we know what glory means… and if Jesus is talking about his moment of glory, we’re waiting for the crowd’s adulation, the moment where we see the kingdom of God shining forth so that everyone will see it.
But we know the rest of the story. Immediately after Jesus talks about this glorification, that his hour has now come, Jesus is betrayed, arrested, tried, mocked, beaten, and crucified. He is literally hung out to dry with the mocking title of “King of the Jews” hung over his head. That’s not exactly the kind of “moment of glory” that we’ve come to expect. Not even close.
But that’s the point. John reminds us that God has a peculiar definition of glory.
When I was doing research this week, I came across the story[1] of a man, a banker, a wonderfully pious, deeply Christian person. In the loan department of his bank, he became aware of a systematic, though completely quiet and unstated practice of denying loans to persons in ethnic minorities. Of course, there are federal laws against such discrimination. But he became convinced that, through subtle pressures, and a corporate culture of non-compliance, his bank was violating the spirit, if not the letter of the law.
Through prayer, he decided to complain about this practice to bank management. He came up with the figures, documented his case. He was not making a big deal out of it, not trying to start trouble, nevertheless, he wanted the management to change their practices. Exactly one month after he initiated his process, he was fired.
The bank said that they were going through some reorganization. But he knew why he was let go. He was out of work for over seven months. When he finally got a job, it was much less of a job than he had at the previous bank. People in our congregation said that he had had a period of bad luck. Many told him, during his time of unemployment, “I know this is a hard time for you.”Jesus might have said, “This is your hour to share in my glory.”
Our response to what Jesus says might be one of confusion… But this is a peculiar definition of glory… This manager did the right thing, and yet his reward was economic martyrdom: he lost his job, precisely because he did the right thing… but then again, as we are so often reminded: Jesus lost his life for doing the right thing. As Christians, we believe that Jesus as the embodiment of God’s love was never a more glorious and self-evident sign of God’s magnificent love than when he was hoisted up on a cross. This was his hour of glory. In today’s reading, Jesus promises us a share in some of that glory... yet it’s not exactly the kind of glory that we expect.
It's human nature to want to feel validated, honoured, respected for who we are and what we do. Yet as Jesus reminds us, that need for glory can often get in the way of our relationship with God. Like the characters in Bruce Springsteen's song, we end up trying to relive those moments of glory, to recapture that sense of adulation from others... or worse yet, trying to seek out attention and demand that others recognize us for what we do. In essence, we're placing ourselves in a space that only God can occupy.
Yet ironically, God's glory, the glory that flows from the experience of the cross is something quite different. That even the lowest point of God's own experience is greater than any human triumph, and in that we realize something of God's glory. It is not the affirmation or adoration of others that makes it a moment of glory, but the very opposite... to show us that in the midst of our own darkness, no matter how dark it might get, God's glorious light shines into the deepest darkest recesses of our own lives. It shows us that we don't need the adulation and affirmation of others, but that God sees each and every one of us in the same loving light. Jesus shares that love and glory with us... and calls us to share that love with one another.
Amen.
[1]From William Willimon’s Pulpit Resource for May 20th, 2007.
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