Sunday, March 22, 2026

Sermon from March 22, 2026


John 11:1-45, Ezekiel 37:1-14

                  Things are starting to get real. At the beginning of the passage from John we learn that Jesus is heading to Bethany. Bethany is near Jerusalem. The disciples are concerned, they know that there is danger, but Jesus knows the time is nearing and he is ready to face it. Most of us know the story well enough by now to know what is coming. Jesus getting nearer to Jerusalem means Jesus getting nearer to his death on the cross. Next week is Palm Sunday and then Maundy Thursday and then Good Friday. It’s coming nearer, things are getting real.

           What Jesus and the disciples will have to face in Jerusalem is death. Both of the Scripture readings today are about looking death in the face. Maybe the Ezekiel reading felt kind of weird to you, I’ve always found it kind of weird too. In fact, some years back when I was planning a Halloween bonfire for a youth group I led I picked this passage from Ezekiel as the scripture reading for the event. It was the creepiest passage I could think of. The rising up of bones and then sinews and flesh, I picture it all happening at nighttime with sounds of clanging bones and groaning. It is pretty creepy.

          The passage from John also gives us a Halloween worthy creepy image as the stone in front of the grave is rolled away, the stench of death fills the air and out comes Lazarus wrapped in death clothes. Can you imagine the gasps, the pounding hearts and the jump scare reactions? It’s no wonder that for thousands of years artists have been drawn to this gaze worthy image.

          These passages force us to look directly at something we may otherwise try to avoid- death. And honestly, life forces us to look directly at death, even when we try to avoid it. Death is all around us. The melted snow reveals the decayed leaves that got trapped under, the cold of winter slowly lifting shows what was hiding under the blanket of ice … death.

           One thing that both my job as a pastor and my job as a hospital chaplain have in common is exposure to death. I went into this line of work quite young and sometimes I think about my first encounter with death besides going to a funeral. I was 24 and doing a hospital chaplaincy internship and it was my first time having the pager overnight. It beeped in the middle of the night and I walked down to the operator bleary eyed and still not fully awake. I went to the room that called, I waited for life-saving measures to finish and I walked in. Everyone else had left, the tv was playing some show like Law and Order, it was quiet, and there I was, looking death right in the face. If I was serious about this pastor stuff, which I was, I knew I needed to face this.

           When we face death we have some options. We can run in fear, we can immediately begin reassuring ourselves that we are safe and this won’t happen to us, we can deny it and walk away or awkwardly change the subject. All of these are completely valid and understandable reactions. But in the passages read today, God calls us to do something else. God calls us to look right through it.

          The reading from Ezekiel is a prophecy. It points to something larger than the creepy bones clanging together. It is meant to show us God’s commitment to God’s people, to show that there is hope, God has not abandoned them and God is about to do a new thing and bring new life to a hopeless and dried up people.

           In the reading from John, Jesus says again and again that the death of Lazarus is to show the disciples, and the people gathered, who Jesus is so that they might believe. At this point in the story the disciples have had some time with Jesus, they have heard his teachings and seen miracles, but they still don’t get it. Thomas, always the relatable one with his doubts and realism, immediately shows his lack of understanding. Jesus says they will go to Judea, they say they are afraid. He then says he will go and awaken Lazarus who is dead and Thomas says (and I imagine him saying this while he exasperatingly throws his hands in the air) “ok, let’s go too so we can all die with him.” He doesn’t seem to get it.

         When Jesus gets to Bethany, it seems like Martha might get it, she might understand who Jesus is … but does she really? She basically says she knows Jesus does miracles and she gets all the traditional doctrine, but Jesus says “I am the resurrection and the life.” This is not just about the miracles, the miracles are about who Jesus is. Martha later shows she still doesn’t quite get it when she cautions Jesus about rolling the stone away because it’s just going to let the smell of death out.

           Mary then seems to understand. She says that if Jesus had been there her brother would not have died, but then she begins to weep and the others around her are weeping and then Jesus starts weeping. It’s interesting to note that the word used for weeping is different when it is used for Mary and the others than when it is used for Jesus. In his commentary on this passage, Francis Moloney explains, “The careful use of another verb for the weeping of Jesus … indicates that Jesus’ tears cannot be associated with the surrounding mourning process. He weeps because of the danger that his unconditional gift of himself in love as the Good Shepherd … the resurrection and the life who offers life here and hereafter to all who would believe in him, will never be understood or accepted.” [i] In other words, Jesus is crying in anger and frustration that people can not see or understand who he is and what his presence means. The miracle of raising Lazarus from the dead is not the story, it is meant to point to the real story that is Jesus Christ, the Savior in this life and the life to come.

         This is the good news of the story, the miracle that was present for Lazarus and you and me. Death is not the story, life in Christ is the story. The death of Lazarus, and the death that will soon come on a cross, point us to life. A life in Christ that is not bound to the physical laws of this world. A life that is rooted in God’s love, a life that is part of the body of Christ, a life that is drenched in hope and fueled by faith. A life we are all called to. We are those dried up bones being called into new life in a relationship with God. We are the mortal body of Lazarus bound by garments of death being beckoned by Jesus to a new life in him.  One where death is not the final word, one where we can look at death and not be afraid because we know that God’s love is greater than death.

          It’s been a long time since I stood in that hospital room as a 24-year-old who was preparing for vocational ministry. Unfortunately, in that time I have faced death many more times. And it broke my heart. I have wept and mourned and feared and lamented and been angry and grieved deeply. Because like Mary and Martha and Thomas and all those others weeping, I am human and it can be hard being human. But I have also learned to look through death, to see the greater story it points to, to hold onto faith during fear.

          I sit with a lot of people at the hospital who are facing death. I take a seat next to their hospital bed, I ask them how they are doing, I listen to their story and then there comes the part where they look at me and say “I’m dying.” One thing I have learned over the years is to hold that gaze. As they look me in the eye, I look right back and I don’t move. I don’t turn my gaze away, I don’t say anything. I sit there and look them in the face for as long as they want. It’s important to me to do this because I want them to know I am not afraid to look at this with them. I am not afraid to see them even in this difficult moment. Because that is a gift we can offer as followers of Christ. We can tell this story of death on a cross over and over again. We can wear crosses, which are really instruments of death, around our necks. We can read these creepy scriptures and know that God has us. We are not alone. Jesus has shown us the way. And even though we are human and we are frail and we are scared and we have hurts and pains and fears, we have seen what happens on the other side of Good Friday, we have seen through death, and we know God is greater.

 

         



[i] Moloney, Francis J. Sacra Pagina: The Gospel of John. The Liturgical Press, 1998. Pg 331

Sunday, March 8, 2026

Sermon from 3/8/26 First UMC East Greenbush

 

 John 4:5-42

          I’m not very good at small talk. I have to remind myself to engage in some light “how about that weather” talk before asking someone about their hopes, dreams, fears, beliefs. Because I realize I may come off a bit strong if I jump right into “what’s your life story?” It’s not that I don’t enjoy talking about the weather, especially this week when we finally are starting to thaw. It’s just that I am really curious about people and I love making connections with others. I love those moments of genuine connection where walls come down and hearts are seen. This is one of many reasons why I love this passage from the Gospel of John.

          It’s a long one, and for folks who like to ingest Bible passages in smaller doses, you may not have been excited to see that it goes all the way to verse 42, but when I looked ahead at the lectionary and saw that this was the reading for today, I audibly said “yes!” It’s my favorite passage. Many of you have noticed the green stole I wear during what the church calls “ordinary time” which basically means the time when it is not Lent, Advent, Pentecost, Epiphany or other big days. The stole is custom made and was an ordination gift from my friends and family. The artist who made it incorporates meaningful symbols from my life, and next time I wear it, you will see her- the figure next to the well … the woman at the well. She has been my favorite for a long time now and so she has accompanied me on my ministry journey on my stole and in the way I understand Jesus.

          She is bold, courageous, open-hearted and not really good at small talk and polite conversation. The first thing she says to Jesus is a challenge. He tells her to give him a drink and she questions him saying “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” There is no “hi, how are you?” or “boy what a hot day today” she goes straight to the question. And her question isn’t just a simple question about one person asking another for a drink. It is about historical divisions between two groups of people, religious differences and social norms. So right from the beginning, we know this isn’t going to be any ordinary conversation. Just as the bucket stretches deep into the well until it reaches the water, this passage takes us into a deep dive about: differences, judgment, gender, history, God and the meaning of life. Which I am pretty sure is outside what one might consider light-hearted small talk.

          I really began to love this passage when I began to really read it for myself, and not just accept traditional interpretations of it. For example, typically people present this passage as a story about a poor and desperate condemned woman, sort of crawling through the shame of who she is to get to this well in the hot mid-day sun. But is that really what the text says?

          She engages Jesus with courage and knowledge. She challenges him when she asks “are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us this well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” I think sometimes when people talk about this passage they talk about this woman as an outcast, as someone to be pitied, as someone who has lived what others may call a “sinful life.” But what I encounter in this passage is someone who is confident, and not afraid to be direct with a Jewish man talking to her alone in the middle of the day. Samaritans and Jewish people were not supposed to get along and had a long history of issues. And a man and a woman who were strangers weren’t supposed to be talking to each other alone. In fact, we read that when the disciples found him they were “astonished that he was speaking with a woman.” The text goes on to say, “but no one said, what do you want or, why are you speaking with her.” I wish they would have; I would love to hear Jesus explain to the disciples why it was important for him to talk to this woman that they were so astonished by.

 I think people often pity this woman because of what we learn about her.  Jesus says that she has had five husbands and that the guy she is currently with is not her husband. Because of this, she is often cast as sad or shameful or desperate. But what I find interesting is that the text doesn’t say that. Jesus describes her situation matter-of-factly and never pairs it with any judgment. And then reveals to her the truth of who he is and the nature of God.

 In her book, Abuelita Faith, Kat Armas says, “Jesus doesn’t just talk to an otherwise despised woman- as many theologians have pointed out to be radical- but he assumes her agency and engages her in mutuality. Jesus welcomes the    Samaritan woman’s challenge, participating with her in teologia en conjunto, the act of theologizing together in collaboration. And through their back-and-forth exchange, the mujer at the well encounters the Living Water- our sacred water who himself heals, gives life, and restores.” It’s not that Jesus is celebrating her past or that she is either, but he also isn’t letting it get in the way of having a meaningful conversation and bringing her to the living water.

          This is a conversation that goes deeper than the surface. She is fully seen by Jesus and with an open heart seeks the living water he speaks of. Jesus tells her that he is the Messiah and invites her to “worship in spirit and truth.” And we the reader, along with the whole community who she will go and tell this message to, hear that God is spirit. God is a living, moving, truth that is accessible for all, and we are called to dive deep into the heart of God. Beyond polite prayers and tacit acknowledgement and into the spirit of God which seeks to enfold us.

          And because of the testimony of this woman, this woman who asked questions, who opened her heart and who felt truly seen- many came to believe. And at the end of the passage read it says “They said to the woman, it is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the World.” They encounter the “living water” of Christ and know that the divisions do not matter, that Jesus has not come just for one group of people, but for the whole world. Living waters unleashed upon the whole world from this encounter at a well between a sassy woman and Jesus.

          And our world needs these living waters. There is so much pain and hurting and war and fear and death and destruction. It can begin to feel like hearts have run dry, wells of hope are empty and faith is far away. But Jesus invites us to dive deeper. To worship the God who is spirit and truth. To find the deep well inside ourselves where the Holy Spirit dwells. Beyond our short comings and failings, beyond our divisions and hatred, beyond what we show on the surface. 

          Maybe part of why I love this passage is because I see myself in the woman at the well. Not that I have had five husbands or plan to and not just because I like to ask a lot of questions, but because I feel it in my soul when she says “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty.” I feel that longing for something deeper. Something deeper than being distracted by social media, engaging in polite conversation, and the daily work of being human. She wants something deeper, something life-giving, her soul is thirsty.

          And day after day I see thirsty souls. I know the statistics about declining churches and increasing apathy, but I see that less as a pronouncement about the increasing irrelevancy of church and more as a challenge to spread love, spread the hope of Jesus, and be willing to encounter people as they are. To truly see them, hear them and take the time to know them. To see the thirsts of their souls and in our interactions to find that the Holy Spirit is moving sometimes as a rushing river and sometimes as a gentle stream, guiding us to the living waters of God’s love.

          The woman at the well finds these waters, it fills her so deeply that it overflows onto everyone she meets. She finds it in this man called Jesus, the Messiah standing at her well, asking for a drink from her. Who sees her and knows her and accepts her. Who tells her that yes there is more, God is spirit and truth. God is a well that is deep and never runs dry. 

***Thank you to the Rev. Rosie Veal Eby for the photo of her awesome tattoo of the Woman at the Well*