Amen, amen, I say to you,
unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies,
it remains just a grain of wheat;
The grain of wheat, if anyone asked it, would probably say it would prefer to remain comfortably where it was than to fall to the ground and die. But the grain was never meant to remain a mere grain. And what it was meant to become was something greater than any grain could imagine, far transcending any self-image it might want to protect. In order for this metamorphosis to occur it was not only that it needed to shed external things or appearances. In order to open outward to what it what always meant to be it would have to relinquish even its own identity to that point.
but if it dies, it produces much fruit
Without dying the grain would remain closed in on itself, only able to absorb nourishment, stuck at the level of being for itself alone, unable to elevate to the level of being for others, unable to bear fruit. Only when it no longer existed for itself, that is, having died to self, was bearing fruit a real possibility. But once it had committed itself to the ground, to giving itself away, it would realize how natural it was to bear fruit. It would produce not only some, but much. It would not only sometimes have some of what it needed for good works. It would always have all it needed to have an abundance for every good work, as the first reading described.
Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly,
and whoever sows bountifully will also reap bountifully.
In real life the choice to die to self is not a one time yes or no commitment. Rather, there is a gradient of possibility. We can give only a little of ourselves, in which case the results will also be meager at best. If we only give a little, and do not really put this principle to the test, we may come to believe that dying to ourselves is mostly burden and hardship. It is only when we make a more comprehensive commitment of self that the true freedom and delight of the grace of God at work becomes apparent, "for God loves a cheerful giver".
Whoever loves his life loses it,
and whoever hates his life in this world
will preserve it for eternal life.
If we love our lives in this world as though they are our greatest good then that will obviously come into conflict with the possibility of dying and bearing fruit. If we love our lives too much there is no room in us for God or for neighbor. The concept of bearing fruit will then seem like people receiving from us what ought to be our own. We are meant to enjoy our lives, to have life in abundance, and to the full. But if seek our own lives above all, to the degree that we refuse to plant our seed in the ground of the world and bear fruit, we will end in disappointment, having sought that which we cannot keep and failed to attain the one thing that truly lasts.
Whoever serves me must follow me,
and where I am, there also will my servant be.
The Father will honor whoever serves me.
Jesus is our example. He is the grain which was buried and bore the fruit of the redemption of the world. He clearly enjoyed his life in the home of his family and then along the road with his disciples. But he never tried to stop in one of those good places as though it were the destination. He knew that the cross was a necessity that could not be avoided. But even that was not the ultimate destination. The point was obscure during the dark hour of the passion but was reveled in the resurrection. The true goal was not so much the dying but the fruit. And this fruit Jesus now shares with us through the gift of his own Spirit.
An evil report he shall not fear;
his heart is firm, trusting in the LORD.
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