The Church of St.
Paul and Incarnation, Jersey City NJ
March 28, 2020
Year A: The Fourth
Sunday in Lent
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Psalm 130
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45
Death Is Not the End
Today’s
collect, or opening prayer, speaks of “the swift and varied changes of the
world.”
And
when I first read it, I thought, “well, that’s for sure.”
No matter how
isolated we may be – no matter how isolated we may be trying to be – the coronavirus has managed to change all of our
lives.
We
are afraid of getting sick, and that those we love might get sick.
There
are the economic shocks that many of us are already beginning to feel. Some of
our parishioners have lost their jobs and undoubtedly more of us will be filing
for unemployment in the days and weeks ahead.
Even
with a check on the way from the government, we wonder how we will pay our
bills and keep enough food in the house.
How will we meet
our responsibilities to those who are counting on us?
We
worry how our kids are handling this huge disruption, how they will learn
without in-person school, how they will cope without being with friends,
without much opportunity for play.
This
is also a time with so much disappointment.
These
disappointments may not be matters of life and death but they still hurt our
hearts.
I
think especially of kids in high school and college, especially seniors, who
were looking forward to all of the milestones of that special time – taking the
lead in their schools, graduation and prom and commencement – and saying
goodbye to their classmates, beginning the new chapter of adulthood.
When
the weather has allowed, I’ve still been taking my early morning walks in a
nearly deserted Lincoln Park, where I have to say the birds seem to be enjoying
our absence – one of the ball fields is almost completely occupied by dozens of
robins, nature always quick to fill a vacuum.
These
days there are just a few of us making our way along the road and no sign of the
high school and college track teams who would usually be out for their runs,
whizzing past this slow-moving middle aged guy.
So
many activities and even whole seasons postponed and canceled.
So
much disappointment.
And
that’s true here at church, too.
This
is normally a busy and exciting season for us.
And,
I’m so sad that our youth and adult confirmation classes have been halted –
that we won’t be able to take our Good Friday procession to places of violence
– that we won’t get to baptize people at Easter.
And,
I’m disappointed that our Lenten book study is paused, too.
As
some of you know, I had chosen a book about the Apostles’ Creed, that ancient
and basic statement of Christian faith.
I
chose to look at the Apostles’ Creed because if you go to church regularly you
hear lots of words – the words of Scripture, the texts of our hymns and
prayers, lots of talk from the clergy – so many words that sometimes we may
lose sight of what’s most important – we might miss what is the heart of our
faith.
In
a seminary class one time – I don’t remember the context – but the professor
asked us to sum up the Christian faith in just one sentence.
While
most of us were just beginning to consider that, maybe trying to come up with
something profound or clever, one of my classmates yelled out:
“Death
is not the end.”
I’m
not sure that’s the sentence I’d use but it’s a good one, especially in times
like these.
Death
is not the end.
And,
that’s certainly the experience of the people of Israel.
Over
and over in the great sweep of their relationship with God, it seemed like they
had reached the end – wandering in the wilderness hungry and thirsty – giving
into the temptation of trusting other seemingly more powerful gods - years of brutal occupation and heartbreaking
exile.
And,
yet, over and over, no matter what, the story of God and Israel lives on.
Death
is not the end.
In
today’s first lesson, we heard the Prophet Ezekiel’s vivid and rattling vision
of a valley of dry bones.
Ezekiel’s
vision comes from a time of exile, when many of the people of Israel were cut
off from their homeland, isolated from their kin, and the years were dragging
on and some were dying far from home.
Understandably, there
was a loss of hope – there was despair that maybe the story of God and Israel
was reaching its end.
But,
God is the God of life, not death, and, as Ezekiel saw, and as the people of
Israel have seen time and time again, God is able to breathe new life into
those dry bones, restoring what had seemed to be lost forever.
Death
is not the end.
If
you tuned in last week, you may remember that we heard the story of one of
Jesus’ greatest signs: the gift of sight to the man born blind.
That
gift was a miracle for one man but it is a sign for the rest of us, a sign of what
God offers all the time: the gift of sight.
And
now today we heard the story of Jesus’ greatest sign of all, raising his friend
Lazarus from the dead.
This
story is found in yet another lengthy passage from the Gospel of John. And, as
you could hear, there is a whole lot going on this story but today I’d just like
to focus on a couple of key elements.
First,
John makes it clear to us that Lazarus is really dead. This isn’t a coma or
some other kind of deep sleep. This is death with all of its indignities.
Lazarus has been dead for four days and the stink of death is all too real.
Second,
Jesus is upset.
It’s
in this passage that we encounter that famous, shortest verse: “Jesus wept.”
Since
death is real, Jesus weeps for Lazarus and for his sisters, Mary and Martha.
Jesus
weeps for the grieving crowd, people stunned by the reality of their loss, desperately
and even angrily looking for God in this moment of suffering.
And,
maybe Jesus weeps out of frustration with his followers who still – still,
after everything – still don’t get it.
And
so, to the shock of everyone - Jesus raises his friend from the dead, signaling
once and for all the glory of God working in and through him.
For Lazarus and
his sisters and for all who loved him, this was an astoundingly amazing
miracle.
But, for us, it’s
a sign:
Death is not the
end.
However, this gift
of life was a threat to some in authority, convincing them that this worker of
signs must be gotten rid of once and for all.
And so now we
quicken the pace of the journey to Jerusalem, where Jesus the worker of signs
will first be greeted with waving branches, welcomed as a king, but soon
everything will seem to go terribly wrong and Jesus who gave sight and life
will die on the cross.
But, you know, the
only reason why still tell these Jesus stories is because of Easter morning.
God is the God of
life, not death.
Death is not the
end.
Like the people of
Israel in exile and the people gathered around the tomb of Lazarus, we are in a
time of fear, grief, and disappointment.
Even those of us
relatively young and healthy are painfully aware that sickness and death are
potentially lurking in every encounter, during each trip outside the house.
We are being
forced to reflect on what’s most important – on who is most important.
And, right on
schedule, today, “among the swift and varied changes of the world,” we are
reminded of a basic truth at the heart of our faith:
God is the God of
life, not death.
And, you know, this
morning, thinking of those bones rattling back to life and imagining Lazarus
unbound, and anticipating the empty tomb in the garden, I am so tempted to get
ahead of myself and just say the “A word” already - but we’ll save that for two
more weeks.
Death is not the
end.
And that’s more
than enough for now.
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