The heart of John's Gospel, which we follow through Lent this year, is divided into two parts: The Book of Signs (Jn 1.19–12.50) and the Book of Glory (Jn 13.1–20.31). In the first half, Jesus performs great miracles—transforming water to wine, multiplying the loaves and the fish, raising his friend Lazarus from the dead—and manifests to the world his true identity as Son of God, assuring his followers that God is active in their history.
I suspect that most of us have read from the "Book of Signs" in our own lives. We recall moments of minor or major miracles that attest to God's love for us. We've seen Christ active in our history, raising us, like Lazarus, from our "wounds of sin and division" (one of the prayers from Mass), and filling us, like the guests at Cana, with joy at the moments of great celebration—maybe even at weddings. Like the crowds, we have been nourished by the Bread of life. And so John's "Book of Signs” is inspirational, for it reminds us the many ways God's grace has sustained us.
In today's Gospel we meet Christ at the conclusion of his signs and at the threshold of his glory. We join the disciples after they have witnessed Christ's wondrous power. And we might imagine that as Christ begins to speak the language of glory, his disciples, who have witnessed his signs, would have been roused to fervent enthusiasm. Familiar with Jesus's miracles, they would be ready to see him celebrated and glorified as he deserves.
Given their expectations, we can imagine that the Greeks who have approached Jesus might have been perplexed by the way he describes the glory that awaits him. These newcomers are probably looking for more of the Book of Signs: How can Jesus benefit them, make them more successful? In particular, many Israelites among them would want political freedom for their country, to have self-government and to become a powerful nation. What will Jesus do to help? How will he show God's glory to a troubled world?
Jesus's articulation of glory is mysterious but consistent with his life and ministry. He says that you can't look to him if you want a quick and easy fix, if you want a magic transformation, if you only want more signs. Yes, he is the Messiah, but he is not primarily a political Messiah, at least not in the normal ways we imagine. Jesus is not going to set up a new governmental bureaucracy; he is not going to help us find a well-paying job. That's not what his glory entails.
No, Jesus's glory arrives precisely as he is "lifted up." On the cross he will show that God is glorified, and God glorifies only through self-offering. To be sure, his many signs have improved the situation of those he has encountered; his many signs have helped all of us. But Jesus's signs are not magic tricks or shows of power. They are meant to support believers in their faith, to prepare them for even greater union with God's love.
So Jesus wouldn't look like the savior that many anticipated, especially when he would come to die on the Cross. But it is precisely that cross which would become his "glory," as the Gospel stresses. Somehow, in suffering, Jesus would be giving new life.
As Jesus explains, that life is like the seeds that many people are planting these days. The seed's greatest achievement is to disappear: you stick it in the ground and it seems to die, forgotten. But at that very moment it begins to bear great fruit.
Next week, on Palm Sunday, during the proclamation of the Passion, we contemplate Christ's glory in high definition. We begin Holy Week, which will culminate as our Lord is lifted up on the cross that we venerate on Good Friday. And here we see the destiny of all the signs that have sustained us up to this point. Although on the cross they may seem to have ended only in failure and loss, we know that even the death we witness is the start of new life.
Why would we want to be Christians if our own glory might mean apparent failure and even death? Well, the glory of the Christian is not that we are free from suffering, but that Christ is with us in our suffering, that he has taken it upon himself and made it into a victory. Yes, sometimes we need simple comfort, a sign from God that he is with us. But those signs must lead us more deeply into the mystery of the cross, the mystery that we celebrate at every Eucharist.