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
Yes, seeing them through the journey, not afraid. Love the way you wrote this.
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