Sermon: We Are Buried Seeds
LAND ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
Good evening, Kaleo! My name is Erin my pronouns are she / her.
Tonight we honor the First Peoples of current-day downtown Phoenix, the Tohono O’odham (Thaw-naw-Awe-Thumb) Nation.
In the words of Lisa Sharon Harper:
“They were and are here. We see you. We honor you. And we thank you for laying foundations of harmony, balance, truth, and honor. Thank you for stewarding the land where Creator settled your people. We bless you. We bless your elders: past, present, and emerging.”
LENTEN SUMMARY
Over the last five weeks of Lent, we've journeyed through a time of reflection, penitence, and preparation, drawing ever closer to the heart of the Christian narrative—the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus. This season invites us to confront our own shortcomings and to meditate on the depth of Jesus' sacrifice for humanity. Each week, the lectionary readings have offered us glimpses into Jesus' journey towards the cross, revealing His teachings, miracles, and the increasing tension with the authorities that would eventually lead to His crucifixion.
The Temptation in the Wilderness
The Transfiguration
The Parable of the Fig Tree
The Prodigal Son
The Raising of Lazarus
As we enter tonight’s passage John 12:20-33, these themes lead us to a critical moment in Jesus' ministry. The arrival of the Greeks seeking Jesus symbolizes the broadening of Jesus' mission beyond the Jewish community but to all of those whose backs are against the wall…who feel buried underneath the weight of imperialism.
Jesus' response to their request underscores the universal significance of what is about to occur: His crucifixion, which He describes using the metaphor of a grain of wheat that must die to produce many seeds.
This imagery speaks to the heart of the Lenten journey—I hesitate the say…”the necessity” of death to bring forth life. But let’s explore this idea a bit more…
If penal substitutionary atonement is the perspective we have concerning the death of Jesus…then His teachings on losing one's life to save it, serving and following Him, and the promise of being honored by the Father, all emphasize a call to discipleship that demands sacrifice, foreshadowing the ultimate act Jesus Himself is about to make…
But what if Jesus wasn’t telling us to willingly endure oppressive systems and structures…what if He was reminding us to not be afraid of the things that try to bury us?
But to be drawn to the hope of light that calls us up out of it… as we become more rooted in who we are…that we are loved by our Creator.
The last five weeks of Lent have prepared us, through introspection and contemplation of Jesus' teachings and miracles, for this moment in John 12:20-33….
LET’S READ IT TOGETHER:
JOHN 12:20-33
12:20 Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks.
12:21 They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus."
12:22 Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus.
12:23 Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.
12:24 Very truly, I tell you, 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.
12:25 Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.
12:26 Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.
12:27 "Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say--' Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour.
12:28 Father, glorify your name." Then a voice came from heaven, "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again."
12:29 The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, "An angel has spoken to him."
12:30 Jesus answered, "This voice has come for your sake, not for mine.
12:31 Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out.
12:32 And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself."
12:33 He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.
PASSAGE SUMMARY {source}
Once again, we are presented with a pivotal moment where Greeks approach Philip with a profound desire to see Jesus. This incident sets the stage for Jesus to articulate a profound response that speaks to the essence of His mission…underlining why such words are often inscribed on pulpits.
Jesus declares "the hour has come," a phrase laden with meaning, heralding His crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension.
The hour had come…for Jesus to choose the highest act of solidarity…to be with those who are crucified and unjustly killed by the state, by government, by imperialistic systems.
This announcement is not just a marker of time but a profound revelation of Jesus' mission and summation of divine prophecy.
His words serve as an interpretation of this "hour" for all to understand, linking His soon-coming death and resurrection as the ultimate sign of His identity and purpose as Messiah.
To be with…to join those who have been buried…
This passage, chosen for the last Sunday of Lent, challenges us to grasp the full meaning of Jesus' death…
What does it mean for Jesus to join those who have been buried???
What does it mean for Jesus to live at this level of solidarity???
And what is Jesus asking of those who follow Him?
THE RESILIENCE OF BURIED SEEDS
My attention is drawn to a particular set of verses
Where Jesus tells us, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, 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."
Authors Alexia Salvatierra and Brandon Wrencher in their book, "Buried Seeds," explore the vibrant resilience of marginalized Christian communities, recognizing how, despite being buried by oppression, these communities sprout, grow, and bear fruit in the aftermath. This narrative isn't just historical; it's a living testament to the power of resilience and rebirth that defies the logic of white supremacy and oppression.
The number one strategy of White supremacy culture has historically been to make us afraid. Afraid to stick up for ourselves. Afraid to tell the truth. Afraid to run in our neighborhoods. Afraid to sleep in our apartments. Afraid to walk to the gas station. Afraid to play with toys. Afraid to have a broken tail light. Afraid to not be able-bodied.
Fear distorts our perception, leading us to overlook our inherent power and relinquish agency in pursuit of a promise of safety, "even as we come to slowly learn that safety dependent on violence is not safe at all."
White supremacy creates a culture that operates on fear, aiming to disconnect us from each other in various ways—across racial lines, within racial groups, from ourselves, the environment, and our inner wisdom. And this disconnectedness cuts us off from our original life source – love.
This fear-driven approach, prevalent in governing both large and small groups, seeks to divide and conquer, favoring the interests of a few over the well-being of all.
White supremacy culture has subtly infiltrated every aspect of our society, influencing how we work, manage people, lead, parent, earn and spend money, engage online, express ourselves, and choose silence over speaking up.
It feeds this fear that we don't belong or that we're not measuring up and creates a messed-up cycle where people end up fearing and sometimes hating others, all to try and prove they're worth something.
For things to change, we must confront and navigate fear, so that we’re not manipulated by those who exploit division to maintain power and control.
WHEN WE HEAL FROM FEAR
But what could happen when we collectively decide to heal from fear? It's something those in power conveniently overlook. They're all about crushing the vulnerable when they're down, thinking that's the end of the story.
But what White Supremacy Culture fails to grasp is the resilience of the generations that rise up after surviving the horrors of mass genocide, whether it's in Gaza, Cuba, Sudan, Haiti or right here in America—hidden beneath the facade of a justice system that was birthed out of the erasure of Black and Brown bodies.
When we collectively begin to heal, whether we realize it or not, we're creating a movement. It's a movement where people are awakened to the ways oppression plays with our minds and infiltrates the human experience. When we heal, we are liberated…
Imagine a world where white folks are no longer afraid that people of color will to them what they have historically done to us? A world where people of color are no longer afraid of being buried?
What could we be together…if we heal from fear?
With that newfound freedom, we're handed the power to love again. This love of self and love for others morph into resilient courage—the kind that stares down our oppressors face-to-face.
It's the courage to demand our reparations, to unabashedly share the truth of our lived experiences without it reopening old wounds. The courage to reclaim our land and resources. The courage to speak up loudly and live authentically. The courage to save our planet. The courage to document the undocumented. The courage to give back land to Indigenous people. The courage to unveil the reality of capitalism and its lingering influence on our pursuit of justice. The courage to remove ties with anything and any system that harms humanity.
When Jesus speaks of a seed needing to die to bear fruit, I do not believe He is calling us to glorify oppression or to accept enduring oppressive systems and structures as our highest duty. This interpretation, I would argue, is a distortion of Jesus' liberating Good News. Rather, Jesus invites us to overcome our fear of the forces that attempt to bury us.
When we no longer fear the darkness that buries us, understanding instead that we possess the power to rise through it, drawn by the light that beckons us to catch the sun's rays—rays that breathe oxygen back into us. When we appreciate the rain provided by dark clouds, a gift of our ancestors' tears, and recognize that, unafraid, we collectively hold the power to keep each other safe—what then can bury us?
Can the genocide in Gaza bury us?
Can the war in Haiti do so?
What of Western silence and complicity?
Can SB1070 2.0 and anti-immigration bills bury us?
What about oppressive leaders?
The possibility of Trump dictating again?
How about friends who betray us?
Leaders and others who misunderstand or speak ill of us?
Systems that conceal our poor and silence our prophetic voices?
What, indeed, can bury us?
Can a TikTok ban?
The revocation of Roe vs. Wade?
Can the KKK or Proud Boys?
Or colonization, kidnapping, and chattel slavery?
Friends, I ask again—who...what...can bury us? For we are seeds…maybe even fireweeds?
Whoever buries us…also suffers the consequences of our growth.
Jesus died…to remind us that we don’t have to be afraid anymore.
He also rose…to remind us that we too shall rise.
For we have each other…and we are seeds…buried seeds.
CONCLUSION
I’ll conclude with an excerpt taken from the book “Buried Seeds” by Alexia Salvatierra and Brandon Wrencher:
“Buried seeds are there when we taste the bitter cloud of tear gas for being boldly present in our Black humanity in the streets of our city. Buried seeds are there when we attune our shared life together to the dangerous, world-remaking red letters of Jesus in the Gospels, when we break bread together, when we play together, when we prayer-walk the streets together, when we sing with joy, when we lament the latest tragic act of policy and inflicted violence on poor bodies. When our tears become our manna, they are the sustenance we need to keep on keeping on in the wilderness of the American South. We are bodies in need of resources that bring life and health but are blocked by systems gone satanic. May these seeds grow. May they sprout. May they spread like the wild and invasive mustard plant. We are a liberating church, a hush harbor inspired by Basic Ecclesial Communities in Latin America. May the liturgical acts of sankofa, ubuntu, and listening to the talking book bring about the revolutionary and undomesticated characteristics of the reign of God in our city as it already is in heaven.
Surely, we are in a watershed moment in the church. The COVID-19 pandemic has laid bare the deep, twisted wickedness of the powers as expressed by the disproportionate number of deaths among historically marginalized groups. Social misery is laughing its way to the bank. In this moment, we hear the prophetic call of our ancestors from hush harbors of old calling us back to a kairos when they embodied a faith deeply rooted in mutual aid, shared moments in the Spirit, ring shouts, prayer meetings, and an open table to eat at. A call that pulls us away from the neoliberal spell of hyper-individualized, branded, and anxiety-ridden lives. A call that breaks the hypnosis of the swinging pendulum of shrinking publics, a growing authoritarianism, whitelash, transphobia, and xenophobia. As we practice sankofa, may Mission House Church, your hush harbor, and your Basic Ecclesial Community go back and get that incarnational, sacred wisdom born in the sojourn of a people kissed by the sun. Asé and amen.”
