Tombs for the Living

John 11:1-44

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

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As good as it is, I don’t think the most important thing about this story has as much to do with the miracle of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead, as we might believe. I might be wrong about that, but it’s not the most important thing for me, at least, for a couple of reasons.

First of all, I don’t think Lazarus’ resuscitation is the most meaningful thing about it all partly because it doesn’t happen often enough in ways we wish it would, or think it should – or maybe even deserve, sometimes – as far as I’m concerned. Who hasn’t wished, hoped and prayed for someone you love to have a second chance to live again after a disease or an accident or even after a long life, well-lived? We would almost always call on Jesus, just like Martha and Mary did, to do for our loved ones, just what he did for Lazarus. Would we not? But I haven’t heard of many successful returns on that investment.

And the second reason I’m not sure Lazarus’ walk from the tomb is the most important thing about it all is that – as marvelous and miraculous as that magic trick must have been to witness – and for us to wonder about, still – it didn’t last forever. Lazarus died again, eventually, so there’s that. Bah humbug. And for that reason, some people consider all of this more of a resuscitation than a resurrection, but that may be splitting theological hairs.

So I always have to remind myself that this story may not be as much about resurrection from the dead as I’m inclined to think, at first. Maybe it doesn’t have so much to do with Jesus’ power to give physical life back to someone who has lost it. After all, what we’ve heard about this morning isn’t the be-all and end-all of resurrection stories, remember. We’ll hear about that one in a couple of weeks on Easter Sunday.

So what could be the point – other than that resurrection stuff? Where is some meaning here I can sink my teeth into?

I’m thinking maybe it has as much, or more, to do with new life as we know it – right here for those of us still living, moving and breathing in the world, on this side of our respective graves. What Jesus shows us – and what he shows Lazarus, and the sisters, Mary and Martha, and anyone else who was watching that day outside of Bethany – is that tombs aren’t just for dead people. (That sounds like a commercial doesn’t it? “Tombs – they’re not just for dead people anymore!”)

See, you might say the disciples are living in their own kind of naïve tombs about the fullness of Jesus’ ministry – trying to protect Jesus at every turn and not understanding what it means to walk in the light, in spite of the darkness around them. Mary and Martha were living in tombs of grief and despair and blame and lack of faith about what had happened – missing their brother, angry at God, frustrated with Jesus, and all that goes along with that. And of course, there was the crowd from town, presumably mixed with people of all kinds living in all sorts of proverbial tombs – some curious, some suspicious, some apparently murderous – over all they’d heard and seen from Jesus up until now.

So, what about us? If tombs aren’t just for dead people, where do they show up in our lives and what are they doing there? Like so much else when it comes to the faith we wrestle with, there are as many answers as there are people to ask those hard questions.

So, I wonder where are our tombs? What is it that keeps us from really living – right here, right now?

- Maybe it’s an addiction or a bad relationship

- Maybe it’s fear of failure or fear of success

- Maybe it’s some kind of bigotry or a lack of information or a lack of faith

- Maybe it’s something in our past or something in our present or something we know is on the way

What kind of caves are we afraid to come out of?

- a cave that’s comfortable because we’ve been in there for a while?

- a cave that seems like the right place to be only because we’ve never known anything different?

- a cave that holds a secret or two no one else knows and that we’re too afraid to tell?

What is it that we find ourselves buried beneath?

- Work or family obligations?

- School or stereotypes?

- Debt? … doubt?

- Guilt? … shame?

- Bad decisions? … bad luck?

Maybe it’s something you can’t even put a name on. There are all sorts of things in our lives and in the world that keep us entombed and buried and anything but living the life that God would have for us.

And the more time I spend with people – particularly for some reason, people like us in the Church – the more it seems to me that God’s greater challenge isn’t to raise us from the dead once we’ve stopped breathing. It seems sometimes like the greater miracle is for God to wake us up and call us out of the graveyards of our Habit and Tradition; to carry us out of cemeteries of Comfort, and Complacency and Low Expectations; to dig us out of tombs of Hopelessness, Sadness and Despair.

But that’s what I see God doing this morning – as much for Mary, Martha and the people of Bethany, all of whom were alive and breathing – as for Lazarus, who was dead as a doornail, and starting to decay!

He calls them all out of their tombs and invites them to live again, differently, on the other side. So maybe that’s the invitation we’re all called to hear, to wonder about, and to pray for faith and courage enough to respond to every day – and maybe, especially – as we head into these remaining days of Lent this time around.

From what …

Out of what …

Toward what … are you being called?

“Come out” of what’s expected and do that thing, volunteer for that project, get involved in that ministry, sign up for that class, take or leave that job, finally.

“Come out” of what’s always been safe and comfortable. Give away that gift or offer up your time or extend that mercy.

“Come out” of your pride and ask for help or ask for direction or ask for forgiveness.

We all have things that keep us entombed – that keep us in the dark – that keep us locked up or locked away from what God would have us do or be or become. This morning – and every day that we gather around Word and sacrament and in the presence of one another – we are hearing God’s call to us…

…to come out of our tombs. …to step into God’s light. …to throw off the darkness and the trappings that tie us up and keep us down and prevent us from living most fully, as God intends.

So, as we wait and long and hope for Easter, let’s plan to “come out, come out from where ever we are.” Let’s hear God calling our name in a way we haven’t before. Let’s accept the invitation for a change and step into a new way of living right where we are.

Let’s be unbound by the good news that even though tombs may not be just for dead people anymore, neither are things like resurrection and new life and second-chances. We all stand to be revived, resuscitated, raised up in some way to get a taste of everlasting life – not just after we die – but on this side of heaven, too, thanks to the grace we share and that calls us by name, in Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen

Blind Pharisees

John 9:1-41

As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”

The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” His parents answered, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”

So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.” He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.

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I hinted a couple of weeks ago – by way of a disclaimer during my sermon about Nicodemus – that it can be hard, risky, dangerous, even, to preach on some of these Gospel texts about the Pharisees, considering the bad rap the Jews and the Pharisees get, week after week, chapter after chapter, verse after verse – especially in the gospels of John and Matthew. It’s hard, risky and dangerous because so many throughout history have used this negative characterization of “the Jews” and “the Pharisees” to perpetuate hateful, destructive, sinful, anti-Semitism over the years and to justify it all in the name of faith.

So, it’s worth knowing a few things that matter about the Pharisees – then… for the people of Jesus’ day, and for us… still, here and now. The Pharisees have become a caricature for some – and an easy target – for our judgement and condemnation by way of Scripture. Because of what we read there and because of the example Jesus seems to make of them so much of the time – as being hypocrites, religious zealots, gatekeepers of the synagogue, arbiters of the law and of works righteousness at the expense of love, mercy, and grace. And there were some Pharisees and Saducees and other Jews who believed and behaved in those ways, for sure.

But there were also Pharisees who respected Jesus, who invited him to meals without ulterior motives, who helped him when he was in trouble, and who helped the Apostles in the early days of their ministry, too. Nicodemus, remember – a Pharisee and leader of the Jews – ended up following Jesus after they’re late-night meeting, it seems; he defended him against his accusers on the way to the Cross; and he cared for and helped bury his body after the crucifixion. The apostle Paul was, himself, a Pharisee.

Even in today’s Gospel the Pharisees were “divided.” Some thought Jesus couldn’t possibly be faithful because he’d broken the Law by healing on the Sabbath. Others thought he must be worth something because he had worked a miracle, after all.

All of this is to say, like I said a few weeks ago: in these times when anti-Semitism is rearing its ugly, sinful head in ever-prolific ways, that when I make note of the flaws of the Pharisees in Scripture, I do that, not because they’re Jewish – as too many misguided souls believe – and not even because all Pharisees were all bad. I do it because the ones who confound and confront Jesus so often look and smell and act so much like religious people of all kinds in the world as we know it. As I like to say, these particular Pharisees are meant to be more like reflections in our mirror, than targets for our self-righteous judgment and condemnation.

And today’s episode with Jesus, the Pharisees, the blind man and his neighbors is an example of that – particularly the exchange between the Pharisees (also called “the Jews,” here) and the formerly blind guy’s parents.

See, I was particularly fascinated and saddened by the notion that the man’s parents were so afraid of being kicked out of the synagogue that they couldn’t speak the truth about their son’s experience. (Did you catch that?) When they were asked about what woulda/coulda/shoulda been the great joy of their son having received his sight, they’re like, “Yes. That’s our boy … he used to be blind … he can see now … but don’t ask us how it happened. Ask him. He’s old enough to speak for himself.” They were afraid, we’re told, because anyone known to confess Jesus as the Messiah … anyone following this new way … anyone NOT following the rules of what faithfulness was supposed to look like, according to their standards … would get the boot. Just as their son eventually did, according to the story.

And this caught my attention this time around because I saw a modern day example of it, just this week. A woman posted a letter she got from her church, signed by three men from the congregation’s elder board. The letter, littered with passages and citations from Scripture, said this:

“For the last several weeks we have noted that you have stopped attending the assembly of the church. After attempts to discuss this situation with you, we fear that you are no longer convinced in the need to assemble with the church for which Christ died. We are very saddened by your decision.

“The ‘failure to assemble’ is not the only problem that you must address. We have been informed and understand that you have a living arrangement that is not Biblical and must be terminated immediately. This action alone reflects that you have not avoided ‘all appearances of evil’ as the scripture directs us. (1 Thess. 5:22)

“Please understand our obligation as shepherds: first, we must watch for your soul (Hebrews 13:17) and second, protect the congregation by withdrawing from every brother/sister that walks disorderly. (2 Thess. 3:6)

“If these issues are NOT corrected and public repentance made … by Sunday, Feburary 21, 2021 … we will withdraw fellowship.”

Now, I don’t know anything more about this church or their elder board or the three guys who wrote that letter, but it was a not-so-nice reminder about the truth that anyone and everyone can misuse religion and blame all sorts of ugliness on God and scripture and the certainty we wish we could find there and that we pretend too much of the time exists more often than is true.

Which is the lesson I was reminded of by way of this morning’s Gospel, this time around, and one we can’t hear too often…

First, that Jesus is more interested in forgiving sin than in punishing us for it.

Second, when Jesus hears that that man had been driven from the synagogue and pushed from the fold, he goes after him. And when he finds him, Jesus is as curious as I think he believes we should be, more often.

Jesus asks the guy if he believes, instead of telling him what to believe.

And then Jesus reminds him of what he’s already seen and experienced of God’s grace in his life – “You have seen him,” he says – “I was the one with the mud and the spit, remember? – the one speaking with you is he.” This, for my money, is like saying, “Forget about what these knuckleheads have said and done and think they know.

“Their certainty clouds their vision …

“their single-mindedness about who God is and about doing things the way things have always been done limits their ability to experience God most fully …

“their black-and-white, cut-and-dried, right-and-wrong world-view forgets that God is always up to something new, in and for and through us and that we are blessed and better when we look for those surprises – and when we find ways to share them – rather than resist them at every turn.”

Now it feels slightly more faithful and fun and satisfying, if we’re honest, to point fingers at some fellow Christians in all of this – much like everyone in that story about the blind was Jewish in one way or another. But let’s keep to the notion that all of this is about holding up a mirror, not throwing self-righteous stones.

And let’s wonder who we are quick to judge and how? (prostitutes and addicts; people of other faiths or denominations, even; people of other ages or races or gender identities)

What are we fast to condemn and drive from our midst? (the “woke mob” or the “far right” … the Republicans or the Democrats … anyone who challenges our worldview or familiar, comfortable way of doing things?)

In what ways do we dismiss God’s ability to work in the lives of others who don’t live, move, breathe and practice their faith in ways that make sense to us?

So let’s learn to open the eyes of our hearts, more often, as the song goes. Let’s believe that God’s vision of the Kingdom and for the Church is bigger than what we are always willing or able to see. And let’s have faith, that this kind of grace can change us; that it can show us something new and holy and different about the world as we know it; that, even if it’s just a glimpse, it’s worth seeing and sharing until all people – and each of us – are seen as worthy of the love God brings in Jesus.

Amen