Sunday, April 10, 2011

Embrace New Life (John 11: 1-45)

The story of Lazarus has always intrigued me. It has intrigued me in the same way that the stories of Jesus’ miraculous healings have intrigued me, but to a greater degree, since raising someone from the dead is a miraculous healing of the greatest degree.


What I’ve always wondered (and perhaps you have wondered this, too) is: If Jesus could raise one man from the dead, why didn’t he just raise everyone from the dead? If Jesus could restore the sight of one man born blind, why didn’t he just go up on a mountain overlooking a city, stretch out his hands, and bring healing upon the entire population?

And, I’ve always wondered: what is the point of such stories for us today? Given that Jesus is no longer walking around on earth, among us, eating food with us,…what do such stories have to offer us?

Fortunately I have a job that allows me to spend a lot of time asking questions like these and searching for answers. More often than not, this search has led me to see that there is some greater, deeper meaning behind these stories, and that this greater, deeper truth is really what the story is all about.

In John’s gospel, Jesus’ miracles are often called “signs,” and I often wondered what that meant, but I think it means that they provide a glimpse into God’s kingdom. They say something, these stories do, about what life is like in the kingdom of God.

Some people like to argue about whether or not a certain incident in scripture actually happened, whether the details of the event are literally true. I believe that many of them are true, that they did happen the way scripture says they happened, but at the same time I recognize that the line between parable and news report is very blurry in scripture. Very little if any of scripture was written strictly as a news report, a story whose sole purpose is to let you know just the facts of what happened. That’s not how or why scripture is written.

Instead, the purpose of scripture is to tell something about the kingdom of God, to explain a great and wonderful mystery in a way that can be understood. The story is not told just for its own sake. It is told in order that people might be brought in to the kingdom of God. Did you get that? These stories have persevered through the centuries, because they are designed to bring people into God’s kingdom.

Lazarus had been in the tomb for several days. As Mary said, there was already a stench. The body had started to decay. Decomposition had already begun. This is not simply a case of healing a body that was alive. It’s not even a case of bringing back life to a body that was lifeless. The body itself needed to be reformed, much like Adam was formed out of the dust of the earth.

Some people have a hard time believing in the literal truth of a story like this. Rather than bringing them in to God’s kingdom, stories like this, taken literally, keep them out. Focusing on the details of the story, rather than the deeper meaning, actually makes it harder for some people in this day and age to enter the kingdom of God.

Those who have a hard time believing in the literal truth of stories like this often fall away from the faith. Then they are told that their faith isn’t strong enough. They are told that they have to believe in order to be a Christian. But since they find it impossible to believe these stories literally, they usually end up leaving the church, or they stay but keep their questions, their beliefs, locked away within them, hidden away in the closet.

I think this is where most of us have missed the point of what it means to believe. I think that believing in the literal truth of the stories of scripture is not as important as believing what these stories say about the kingdom of God.

Notice that I’m not saying that the stories are not literally true; I’m saying that there is something more important here than arguing over literal details and facts.

If we start worrying just about the facts, about the details, then our deepest questions will focus on things like: how did Jesus cast out the maggots? How did he restore a body that was already decomposing? When Jesus raised Lazarus, to what physical age was he raised? Since the body had to be re-formed to some degree, did Jesus restore Lazarus to the age at which he died? And if so, wouldn’t he just get sick and die again? Or did Jesus restore him to a younger age? Did Jesus get rid of Lazarus’ weak knee, or did the raised Lazarus still have the same hobble he had before he died? Did he still have his arthritis? Did he still have that twitch in his left eye? Was the scar on his right arm still there, or did Jesus remove that with his great magical eraser? I mean, if you’re going to raise someone from the dead, wouldn’t you want to clean them up a bit while you’re at it?

It starts to sound silly after awhile, doesn’t it, all these questions that focus on the literal details. They do little to strengthen faith or bring people into God’s kingdom. But these are the questions that come from focusing too much on the literal truth of these stories.

On the other hand, if you stop worrying about the facts, and start wondering about the deeper truth and meaning such stories contain, then your questions are a bit different: What does this story say about the kingdom of God? How does this story demonstrate the relationship between God and humanity? What hope is present in this story for us today? How does this story demonstrate God’s intention to bring wholeness to a fragmented world?

In examining the story of Lazarus this way, I see a deeper truth, a theme that is echoed throughout scripture, in stories found in both the old and new testaments. Each of these stories begins with one’s old, former life. Lazarus had an old, former life, which he lived in the town of Bethany. But then, as the scripture says, he died. He died to his old life, and those who knew him mourned. They had lost hope, because when one dies, there is no hope for a recovery. While a person is sick, there is hope, but not once they die. “O Lord, if you had only been here, before he died, there would have been hope…. There would have been a possibility….”

But then Jesus arrives, after hope is gone, and restores Lazarus to life. Jesus proves that it is never too late to hope. Jesus demonstrates that, in the kingdom of God, new life is always available, waiting for you to welcome it and embrace it.

If you have read much scripture, and think about this for awhile, you start to recognize that this story isn’t all that different from a half dozen or so other stories in scripture.

Think of the Hebrews in the time of Moses. They had their old life in Egypt, where they were slaves. They left Egypt, by passing through the Red Sea. That was their death. The life they had known had come to an end. They had God’s promise of rebirth; they had a promise of new life, that they, as a nation, would be reformed in a new land. But the journey to their new life was long and hard. There was conflict and confrontation. Hope of a successful outcome vanished as they struggled in the wilderness.

They began to long for the old life they left behind. Those seemed to them the good ol’ days, because the journey to new life seemed too difficult for them. In fact, the reason it took them 40 years to reach the promised land is because it took them that long to let go of their old life, to let go what had died, and to embrace the new life that God was bringing them to.

Eventually, they did arrive at that new land, and they did learn to embrace their new life.

Some years later, the nations of Israel and Judah were captured by foreign armies, and the more prominent citizens were taken into captivity, in Babylon. The story begins again: taken from their homeland, the people experienced death. As a nation, they were no more.

Like the earlier Hebrews, they found themselves longing for their old life. They even sat down on the banks of the rivers in Babylon, weeping for their homeland. All hope was lost. They couldn’t even bring themselves to sing the songs of their homeland. They just hung up their harps, and cried.

Sometime later, they were allowed to return. However, it wasn’t easy at first. They returned, but they didn’t have the heart to rebuild the temple. It took much encouraging from the prophets to restore hope, to get them to rebuild the temple and embrace new life.

The story of Lazarus is often seen as a sort of “preview of coming attractions.” It’s no surprise that the lectionary places it here, on the fifth Sunday of Lent, one week before Palm Sunday and the beginning of Holy Week. Because the events in the story of Lazarus prepare us to hear once again the story of Jesus, and in particular the stories surrounding Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection.

For Jesus, too, had a life in the kingdom of this world, but he willingly died to that life. This led to the next stage, that of confrontation and conflict. There were conflicts with religious leaders, Herod, Pilate, and many others, which ultimately resulted in Jesus’ execution upon the cross.

This was followed by a period of darkness, a period of no hope. The disciples seemed utterly lost in confusion. But then Jesus rose from the grave, and hope was restored. In the resurrection the disciples were able to see and embrace the new life – the new life that Jesus had been talking about all along.

Because the stories of scripture do have a deeper meaning, they become – as we read them – our stories. The stories of the Hebrews in Egypt, the stories of their captivity and restoration, the stories of Lazarus and Jesus … think about it: those stories are our story.

Think of a young, growing congregation, full of hope, full of life. But then that congregation enters a period of confrontation and conflict. It gets thrown out into the wilderness, where it is forced to struggle, and along the way it is devoured by wild creatures and draws close to death.

Just like the Hebrews in the wilderness or the Israelites in Babylon – just like Lazarus’ sisters after his death or the disciples after Jesus’ death – hope is gone. The only thing left to embrace, it seems, is death. The only thing left to do, it seems, is to mourn the loss.

But then new life comes. Hope is restored. The people go from saying, “there is no hope,” to saying, “maybe there is hope; maybe there is hope.” And then, God willing, they go from that to embracing new life; they go from saying “maybe there is hope” to saying, “YES! Hope is alive! There is new life in God’s kingdom!”

It is a struggle that is a part of all of us. We all live in the kingdom of this world. We are all challenged to live a new life. But living a new life involves letting go of the old life. This is a struggle. We will mourn what we leave behind, just as the Hebrews mourned their old lives in Egypt.

However, in the waters of baptism we make a decision to release our hold on that old life. In the waters of baptism, we make a decision to stop mourning the past, to stop moping about the past and start looking forward. In the waters of baptism, we make a decision to embrace the new life that God offers us.

For baptized Christians, who serve a risen Lord, that is what it is all about. It is about letting go of the things that hold us back, the things that keep us in slavery, and embracing the new life that is ours in the kingdom of God.

It is about not losing hope, because: no matter how much we struggle, …no matter how hopeless the situation may be, …no matter how difficult the journey through the wilderness may be, …no matter how alone we may feel,… no matter how far we have been taken from our homeland, …no matter how many times we’ve been laid off, …no matter how difficult our living circumstances are, …no matter how weak our bodies have become, …no matter how many days the body has been in the grave…

…there is still hope. There is still new life. We may be tempted to give up. We may lose hope. We may cry out, “God, if only you had been there…” We may even lose our faith in God; but God does not lose faith in us…. There is hope. There is new life.

Embrace new life.

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