April 2, 2017
The first time I recall thinking about death, about real death,
about my death, I was in high school. There was a Chicago news anchor, Fahey
Flynn who’d been a news anchor for 30 years – my entire life. When I was in
high school, he died. I remember going to bed that night thinking about Fahey
Flynn, and wondering what had happened to him. I knew he was dead, but what
happened to him? To his soul? To his spirit?
Was he just gone?
I don’t regularly think about death. We started Lent on Ash
Wednesday, with the words, “You are dust, and to dust you shall return.”, as
ashes are imposed on our foreheads in the sign of the cross. While I am
intrigued by the liturgy, somehow I don’t think about death. I escape that. I
don’t think about mortality in general, or my mortality in particular. About
being dead and buried. But if there was any chance that I’d get through Lent
without spending some time thinking about death, this morning’s readings ended
that. Today we get a series of readings that help assure we see the death part
of the miracle we profess weekly, of Jesus’ death, resurrection and ascension.
Today also serves as a preview of Holy Week and Easter, with a
series of dramatic and memorable readings. In the Old Testament, we hear about
the dry bones coming alive. This is one of the more vivid readings with details
that almost place you there. You can hear the rattling of the dry, dead bones,
as they are re-formed into the “vast multitude”. In the Gospel reading from
John, we hear of Jesus’ friend Lazarus who has died. He’s dead in the tomb.
After some interactions with his sisters, Jesus
brings Lazarus back to life.
We hear about these readings as a primer for the whirlwind walk of
life, death, and resurrection we’ll start next Sunday as Holy Week begins. With
its numerous services, emotions, actions, dramatic readings and late nights,
Holy Week can become a blur. Today, we get a preview without quite as much
going on. If we pay attention and think about today’s lessons, we can start our
Holy Week journey much better equipped.
We hear that Jesus has been told that his dear friend, the friend
whom he loved, Lazarus, has taken ill. He cryptically announces that the
illness doesn’t lead to death, but rather it is for God’s glory. So, taking his
time Jesus heads towards Judea to the home of Lazarus, and his sisters Martha
and Mary. He continues that Lazarus hasn’t died, he has simply fallen asleep.
He will be all right, Jesus assures. The disciples are confused at his choice
of words along with his seemingly illogical choice to return to Judea. They
remind him that Judea is a dangerous place for Jesus, that the Jewish leaders
were most recently trying to stone him. If, as Jesus says, Lazarus is just
sleeping, he’ll be fine. Don’t go there. But Jesus clarifies. Yes, Lazarus is
dead.
Upon arriving, Mary and Martha run out to meet him, and blame him,
stating that if he had only come quicker, their brother wouldn’t have died.
This time, Jesus says that Lazarus will rise again. Believing in resurrection
life, they agree that yes, he will rise on the last day. But Jesus dispels the
notion of a resurrection be reserved for the last day. Jesus explains that he,
Jesus is the resurrection life. “Those who believe in me, even though they die,
will live.” I can only imagine the
perplexed look on the faces of the disciples, and of Mary and Martha. Jesus
asks if Martha believes him.
Echoing the words of the formerly blind man in last week’s lesson,
Martha asserts simply, and profoundly, “Yes Lord. I believe”. This sounds like
such an easy response. But is it? Martha
has seen no proof yet. And yet, by his word alone, she believes him. No
bartering, or requests for signs, or demonstrable proof. Her response is
powerful. Definitive. And frequently, out of reach for me. I hope to someday
have the faith to simply and profoundly respond when tested, “Yes Lord, I
believe.”
Of course, Jesus does raise Lazarus, and Lazarus comes out of the
tomb still bound in his burial cloth. But not until after he’d died. Dead and
buried. We see some of Jesus’ humanity in this story, because after seeing the
sadness of the sisters and their friends, Jesus cries. Even Jesus, who knows
how this story was going to come out, cried. Death and the grief it causes
those left on this earth is sad.
So why did Jesus need to go through this? Why didn’t he, as Mary and Martha suggest,
come earlier so Lazarus didn’t have to die?
Was it simply for the “wow” factor?
Unlikely, as Jesus wasn’t much into showmanship – ever
Rather, Jesus’ delay in attending to his friends illustrated the
glory of the son of God. Ok, but what does that mean? What this display shows me is that with God,
there are no limits. – no outer reaches beyond which God’s glory cannot reach.
Not sin. And from today, not death.
In our world view and in our understanding, death feels like a
pretty bright line. You’re alive and here. Or you’re dead and not. But not in
God’s kingdom. And not with the grace and love Jesus shows. Death is not the
end. In God’s kingdom, death is not a dividing line. As a matter of fact, it’s
a pretty arbitrary line in the sand. In the lesson, Jesus interchanges the
words death and sleeping, awake and alive. Of course death matters. And of
course it’s sad. Jesus himself cried at Lazarus’ death. But in the Kingdom of
God, death is not the end. God’s love and grace reach all. Death does not have
the last word. We see that with Lazarus, and we see that in Jesus’
resurrection.
Do not misunderstand. I’m not suggesting that death is good, or
easy, or painless. We all know differently. But it is not the end. God’s power
transcends death. And here’s some really good news. I’m not just talking about
the end of our mortal life, when our hearts stop beating and as we say on Ash
Wednesday, “to dust we shall return.”
Being dead and buried certainly applies to the end of our mortal life,
when our hearts stop beating. But it means so much more too.
The first reading today is that dramatic reading of the dry bones.
God breathes life into the vast array of dry, dead bones. God raises the bones
to new life. This sounds simply like another resurrection dead-and-now-not-dead
story. But I think it’s much more.
A quick survey of how we use the words bury and dead give us
insight into all of the ways to drop into this story. We can be buried in work.
Buried in debt. We can bury our feelings. We can be deadened to pain, to
suffering. A fire or a relationship can be dead.
So what if the dead and buried that’s described today in Ezekiel
or John goes beyond the grave? Imagine
for a minute that it’s referring to our true selves. Who God designed us to be.
How many of us have ever felt like our true genuine self has been buried by
debt, by doubt and fear? I can get myself worked into a real snit, resulting in
a me I don’t recognize. The real me is buried in worry. When who we are
supposed to be gets buried by our actions or thoughts, God raises that to new
life. God can raise me up to who I am supposed to be. God can resurrect our
lives and souls, by breathing life into us.
And what if the dead and buried that’s described today is talking
about our hearts, our relationships, our fire?
What if our love of others has grown cold? What if we’ve grown
disinterested in their pain and suffering?
What if we’re apathetic to the needs of others? With a simple word or breath, God can enliven
our hearts which have grown cold and dead.
All of this talk about dead and buried is certainly addressing the
end of our mortal life. And it’s also about our selves, our souls, our bodies.
God can resurrect it all and bring us to new life.
One last note about this resurrection and redemption work of God.
In the Ezekiel story, it is God who breathes life into the dry bones. But it is
God working through Ezekiel. “Ezekiel, say to these dry bones…” To me, that changes a lot in these lessons.
God uses Ezekiel to resurrect the dead dry bones. What if we are Ezekiel? What if we are the ones that God is working
through to breathe life into the lives and hearts of others around us?
Have you ever felt you were called to help, to love, to give? It’s not unreasonable to assume that God is
working through you, as God works through Ezekiel. Maybe you didn’t hear “Mortal, prophesy to these
bones”. Maybe you didn’t hear anything at all. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t
God calling you.
As we finish our Lenten Journey and head into Holy Week, think
about death. About being buried. About new life. About resurrection. And if you
doubt whether God’s power can do these things in your life, think of Martha.
Aim for Martha’s profound and simple response:
“Yes, Lord. I believe.”
Amen
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