Curiously, a group of gentiles showed up here in the Temple. Why would they bother? For those who have demonstrated nothing but contempt for our way of life, for our faith, why are they here? What do they want? They spoke with Philip first. "Sir," they said deferentially, "we would like to speak with Jesus of Nazareth." Philip was wary, as were we all.

"What for?" he asked.

"We have heard of him. Some of us have seen his miracles and heard him teach. We want to follow him. We want him to . . . well, accept us as disciples," this with apparent embarrassment. They were as aware as we of how strange it was that gentiles should interject themselves into affairs presumably Jewish. Philip went to tell Andrew of their request. Andrew and Philip then went together to tell Jesus. Predictably, Jesus' response was unpredictable.

Who would have guessed that he would say, "So. It has come to this. The opportunity for my people is gone. The moment has now come." He looked away, as if resigned to the inevitable or, possibly, to absorb the shift of events. Then he said, "Bring them to me, Philip, and I will speak with them."

As the men came before him one of them knelt. "Master," he began, "We are here because we wish to follow you. We do not seek to become Jews, but we believe in the Father of whom you speak and we believe you are the Son of God. Please, accept us as your disciples. My name is Agatone. I speak for myself. I speak for us all."

The open, honest sincerity of the man and the expectant expressions on the faces of the others were troubling. He waited a long time before he replied. "Your name means 'Good' or 'Kind,' Agatone. You are, indeed, a reflection of your name. What you do not understand, and cannot know, is that you have come to the Temple of God because the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified."

"Sir?" Agatone responded.

"Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a seed. But if it dies, it produces a stalk with many seeds. You and your friends are the first, Agatone. There will be many others." They all looked at him incredulously. Jesus was right. They clearly did not understand. None of us understood. On the surface of it, it seemed to make sense'yet it was enigmatic. Jesus took the men aside and spoke privately with them. I have no idea what he said to them. I only know that they left in obvious gratitude. When they were gone, Jesus appeared disturbed. He seemed thoughtful, introspective. He spoke softly, as if to himself, but it was directed to us. Perhaps to me, "The man who loves this life will certainly lose it. But he who recognizes this life for what it is, will keep his life forever.

"Whoever serves me," continued Jesus, "must follow me, and where I am my servant also will be." It would not be hard, dear reader, for you to think that I am very taken with myself. Allow me to send you this personal message: However vain, trite or pretentious I may be, however wicked, however improperly motivated, however weak, however impotent, I can tell you this'I cannot begin to conceive how any man or woman has lived who wished to serve my Master more than I. Wherever he is, I want to be. I seek to be his constant companion. I wander about in this world existing in this body of death, engaging in a never-ending struggle with moral decay. Yet I have one hope that gives my life in this carrion of existence, purpose and meaning. It is these, his words . . . "My Father will honor the one who serves me." Yet it is not this honor I seek, but that which comes with it'closeness to him.

These men, the gentiles, these men not among the "chosen nation," left warmly affirmed. Nor am I chosen. And yet again, perhaps I am.

The entrance and timing of these gentile men into the Temple at Jerusalem had a special significance that no one'not even they'grasped until later. I am now convinced that God must have sent them as a sign that the nation of Israel, as we know it and as the special people of God, has changed. Since the days of Abraham, God has watched over us, cared for us and separated us to himself. Now I am beginning to realize, there may be a new Israel, one that not only includes gentile nations but embraces them and finds its loveliest expression in them. The seeds of wheat of which Jesus spoke would become not just a stalk with its seeds, but many stalks'fields of golden wheat swaying under the nourishment of the Father, caressed by the gentle winds of the Spirit, planted, blessed and fortified by the Son.

Jesus continued his soliloquy, "Now my heart is troubled, and what shall I say? 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour." His heart would become troubled much more, and in a few days cry out to his Father for just such deliverance.

These gentile men? They are the first fruits from the peoples of the world. They are the reason he came into this world. Then he lifted his voice to heaven and cried, "Father, glorify your name!"

Something stunning happened. A voice came from the sky above, "I have glorified it, and will glorify it again." Some said it thundered but there were no dark clouds. Others said an angel had spoken to him.

Our eyes searched the skies, yet the voice just happened, surrounding us, enveloping us. We had no idea of the direction from which it came. We all knew that a new era had embarked. A new day.

"This voice was for your benefit, not mine," said Jesus. "Now is the time for the prince of this world to be driven out and defeated. When I, the Son of Man, am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all men to myself." There it is again: All men! Not just Jews! Not just Israel. Whatever covenant or covenants God has made with Israel now belong to all!

As I think about that miraculous day, I am convinced that he said these things to show the kind of death he was going to die. Those listening to him must have understood at least something of what he said, for they asked, "We know from the Law that the Christ will remain forever, so how can you say, 'The Son of Man must be lifted up'? Who is this 'Son of Man'?" They understood that 'lifted up' meant crucifixion. Yet their love affair with the Law had fouled their minds. And could they not see the very Son of Man standing before them?

Once again Jesus did not directly address the question that was asked. If he had, they would merely have challenged his answer and rejected his claim. Instead he said, "You have light now. You will not have it much longer. Enjoy, appreciate and live in that light now, while you have it, before darkness comes. Become sons of light. I have come into the world as Light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness. When you come to know me, you know not only me, you know the one who sent me."

Jesus continued, "As for the person who hears my words but does not keep them, know this: I did not come to judge you, but to rescue and redeem you. However, there is a judgment for the one who rejects me and my words. And these words will come to haunt him at the last day."

With this, Jesus left the Temple. It would be his last time there. It would mark the final time anything resembling the presence of God was in that place. Still, one cannot be near Herod's Temple without being awed by it. As Jesus walked away, James remarked to Matthew, "This Temple is magnificent. It is massive. It is beautiful beyond imagination."

"You are impressed with these buildings, James?" Jesus asked. He called them mere "buildings." I could not believe it. The elegancy and the majesty of the Temple at Jerusalem overwhelm you. Once visited, it stamps its inspiring grandeur on your mind forever.

"Let me tell you something," he said, "Not one stone will here be left on another; everyone will be thrown down." Less than four decades later, these words became the awful truth.

Jesus left the vicinity of the Temple and hid himself from those who sought to arrest him. In a few days, he would voluntarily surrender himself. But not now. He had things to do, words yet to say.