5^th Sunday of Lent (A); 3-29-20

Ez 37:12-14   Ps 130   Rom 8:8-11   Jn 11:1-45

Deacon Jim McFadden

 

            In today’s Gospel reading we have a stark contrast between Jesus, who is the Lord of Life, and the ruins of death. Let us pause and stand before the last of the miraculous signs which Jesus performs just before Easter, at the tomb of his friend, Lazarus. Keep in mind, what Jesus did for Lazarus, he wants to do for us.

I’d like to lean into the Gospel account by recalling Pope Francis’ first papal visit, in 2013, to the island of Lampedusa, where many thousands of drowned travelers from impoverished and war-torn countries have been washed ashore. Filled with indignation and compassion, our Holy Father said, “Those who build walls will become prisoners of the walls they put up.” What is true of physical barriers is also true for those who allow the specter of death to paralyze them. Make no mistake: death represents a wall as it were. When physical life comes to an end, it is so final: there’s no going back to a earlier time and place. So, death is like a boundary: our whole life moves towards this terminus and then we ask, “Is this it? Is this all?”   I spent 70 years, 80 if I am lucky, then I die. What happens next? Oblivion, nothingness or life under a radically different form? “Does anything exists beyond the boundary, beyond the wall?”   If we say, “No, this life is the only one we have,” then we stay behind the wall as our life inexorably moves towards its demise.

All world religions affirm that life holds other possibilities. Some time ago, I was about to cross Folsom Blvd. in East Sacramento. Though I had the green light, as I stepped into the crosswalk, out of corner of my eye, I saw a blur of car that went through the red light. I froze in my tracks and could feel the breeze of the car as he sped past. Why did I stop? Obviously, I wanted to live. Everyone wants to be rather than not be as Hamlet frames it in a question. Normally, no one wants to die. Moreover, none of us take happy the thought of a future in which we shall have no part. Why? We have a built in desire for eternity because we have a soul! We are made in the image and likeness of God and we are hard-wired to participate in God’s being now and forever. It’s this desire that today’s readings are addressing.

In the Gospel story everything seems to have ended: the tomb is sealed by a great stone: there’s only weeping and desolation here. Lazarus has been dead for four days. Put yourself into the story: what parts of you are a little dead? How many dead places find a home which inhibits the movement of grace in your heart? You don’t like your current situation, yet you feel that you’re stuck: you can’t get out. It’s like being at the first stage of AA: our spiritual dysfunction is beyond self-help. Only the power of Jesus can help us emerge from these “dead zones” of the heart, these tombs of sin, which we all have and keep us trapped within their walls.

Before the sealed tomb of his friend Lazarus, Jesus who is our friend and brother, “cried with a loud voice: Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man came out, tied hand and foot with the burial bands, and his face was wrapped in a cloth. So, Jesus said to him, “Untie him and let him go” (Jn 11:43-44).

This is an imperative for all of us because we are all marked by death. As Oscar Wilde lamented, “I know we all have to die; but, in my case, I thought an exception could be made.” Yes, we do have to die, but, at the same time Jesus reassures us that “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly” (Jn 10:10). Jesus is confronting the tomb we have built for ourselves with our misguided choices that lead to death, with our errors, with our ignorance. But, Jesus is not resigned to this! He tells Lazarus, he tells us, he almost orders us, to come out of the tomb in which our sins have buried us. He calls us insistently to come out of the darkness of that prison in which we are enclosed content with a false, selfish, and mediocre life.

“Come out!” It is an invitation to true freedom, to allow ourselves to be seized by these words of Jesus who repeats them to each one of us today. It is an invitation to let ourselves be freed from the “bandages,” from the bandages of pride. For pride makes us the center of our lives, makes us slaves to our egoic desires, makes us slaves to so many idols, so many attachments and addictions.

Brothers and sisters, what we have here is a great “encounter-clash” that is occurring at the sepulcher. On the one hand, there is the disappointment that life as we know it has irretrievably come to an end: as the current pandemic reminds us, our mortal life is precarious and when we confront death, we feel anguish at a very deep level of soul. Death is not only final, but it seems like such a defeat. We yearn for life, then it comes to an end. Again, our soul is created for life and we feel frustrated when this thirst for eternal life is oppressed by the ubiquitous and ancient dark evil of Death. The sepulcher represents defeat. On the other hand, there is hope in the person of Jesus, who asserts that he is LIFE itself!

People of God, our resurrection begins here: when we decide to obey Jesus’ command by coming out into the light, into life; when the mask falls from our face—we are frequently masked by sin and the mask must fall off!—then our true face emerges—the face created in the image and likeness of God..

The Raising of Lazarus pinpoints the belief in eternal life. We just don’t want to live for 70-80 years, what we really want is the fullness of Life, infinite Being, which Jesus promised to the Woman at the Well.  This is the great breakthrough that will lead the followers of Jesus into Christianity. Jesus is promising us immortality. And, taking to heart what God said through the prophet Ezekiel, “What I promised, I will do.” We stake our lives on that promise because we believe that Jesus is Lord. We know that being made in the image of the Triune, communitarian God, we are meant to be relationship, to share life with God and each other NOW AND FOREVER! And, we do so, by abiding in Jesus who is the source of Life. Jesus will not let us go because he loves us

That’s the Great Consolation: we realize that love is stronger than death. We hear in the Song of Songs that “Deep waters cannot quench love, nor floods sweep it away” (8:7). This is not an easy realization to embrace. As Martha knew, the stench of death is strong. Sometimes our mind focus on the unyielding fact that death brings permanent separation in chronological time and physical space. We become vulnerable to doubt.

We don’t give into doubt because through faith we know that Jesus is the Resurrection and the life”. To know Jesus, to dwell within his Mind, Heart, and Soul is to participate in Life that is everlasting. The more we contemplate this story of the Raising of Lazarus, the more we will integrate it into our ordinary experience (Martha). And, as we do so, we will realize its gentleness is an enduring strength. Sustained by his presence, we can grieve greatly and deeply the physical loss of our loved ones and hope greatly in their continued life in God. Love generates both grief and consolation. As St. Paul said to the Thessalonians, “Do not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thes 4:13). Remember, it is the weeping Jesus who cries out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” Amen.