St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD
March 26, 2023
Year A: The Fifth Sunday in Lent
Ezekiel 37:1-14
Psalm 130
Romans 8:6-11
John 11:1-45
The Unbinding
Well, the holy season of Lent is really winding down now.
Ready or not, Palm Sunday is next week.
And in just two weeks, we’ll gather with Mary Magdalene outside the empty tomb and celebrate the great joy of Easter.
These last Lenten days are still about repentance – and there’s always time to take on a new practice or give up something that separates us from God – but now we’re clearly turning our attention to what God always offers us:
New life.
In our Old Testament lesson, we heard a passage from the Prophet Ezekiel.
Ezekiel lived during the 6th Century BCE, a time of defeat and exile for the people of Israel, a time when for many it seemed like all hope was lost.
But, as we heard, God offers Ezekiel vivid vision of new life.
God leads Ezekiel into a valley of dry bones, of very dry bones – a place of death, a land without hope.
In such a bleak place, God asks Ezekiel what must have seemed a bizarre question:
“Mortal, can these bones live?”
Ezekiel gives the only sensible reply: “O Lord God, you know.”
And then, while we might have expected God to simply do the work of creating new life, instead God calls Ezekiel to prophesy – to prophesy to these dry bones – to prophesy to the breath – and with lots of rattling, suddenly there was new life – and the promise of even more new life to come.
The call to new life.
In last week’s gospel lesson, we heard the story of Jesus giving sight to the man born blind.
And now today, in yet another lengthy reading from the Gospel of John, we heard the story of an even greater sign – perhaps Jesus’ greatest sign of all – a sign of new life – a call to new life – Jesus raises his beloved friend Lazarus from the dead.
There’s a lot going on here, isn’t there?
The story begins with Jesus acting in a kind of curious way. He’s received word that Lazarus is ill. But rather than rushing to Bethany to be at his friend’s side, rather than trying to get to Lazarus as quickly as possible to offer healing, Jesus postpones the trip for two days.
Right from the start, Jesus recognizes that this isn’t so much about Lazarus and his illness, just like last week’s story wasn’t so much about the blind man.
No, the man’s blindness and Lazarus’ death provide an opportunity for signs – for signs of God’s glory.
As usual, the disciples don’t exactly distinguish themselves in this story. Except for Thomas, they’re afraid to go to Judea – John writes that they were afraid of “the Jews” who had tried to kill Jesus.
This provides yet another opportunity for a reminder that Jesus and his disciples were all Jews – and back in the first century, some Jews followed Jesus and others did not, and some among the Jewish leadership saw Jesus as a threat.
Anyway, Jesus finally arrives at the sad scene – and we learn that he’s certainly too late to save Lazarus, who’s been in the tomb four days now – this is no deep coma. He’s really dead.
Mary and Martha are understandably grief-stricken at the death of their brother, but even in their sadness they express some faith in Jesus. They believe that if the Lord had been there, Lazarus would still be alive.
But surely the only hope now is the resurrection on the last day.
Gathered with Mary and Martha and the others, this is one of those moments when Jesus expresses deep emotion.
Even if Jesus is certain about what’s about to happen, it’s hard to witness so much suffering and sadness, especially among some of your closest friends.
And maybe Jesus heard some of the grumbling that if he could give sight to the blind surely he could have healed whatever ailed Lazarus.
And maybe Jesus’ emotion is also, in part, frustration – frustration at his disciples who never seem to get it no matter how many times he teaches them – frustration even at the grief-stricken Mary and Martha, with whom he was so close and yet he still had to tell them, “I am the resurrection and the life.”
Well, in the midst of so much emotion, and after a brief prayer, Jesus gives the shocking command to roll away the stone.
And then, there’s the even more shocking call to the dead man to come out of his tomb.
The call to new life.
This sign is not just for Lazarus and everyone else gathered around his tomb two thousand years ago, but it’s a sign for us here today, a sign that Jesus offers new life – calls us to new life - not just on the last day but right here and right now.
And then there is one last little detail that’s easy to miss.
After raising Lazarus from the dead, Jesus tells “them” to unbind Lazarus and let him go.
And who exactly is “them”?
Well, in this case, “them” would be “us.”
There are half-dead people all around us who are bound, bound just as Lazarus was bound – bound by fear and despair, bound by illness and addiction, bound by regret and hate.
But, right here and now, Jesus offers new life.
And Jesus invites us to be part of the liberation, to unbind people from the constraints of suffering and death, to set them free.
The call to new life.
And what does that look like here at St. Thomas’?
Well, it’s our many outreach efforts, of course.
It’s welcoming our Afghan friends.
It’s reaching out to one another, people we know are going through a hard time, or maybe people we haven’t seen for a while.
And, most of all, we play our part in unbinding people from the constraints of suffering and death through our prayers.
When I was a seminarian I served for a time at a church called House of Prayer. It’s an Episcopal church, though it doesn’t sound like it, right?
It’s my all time favorite church name because it is nearly impossible for the people of House of Prayer to forget what’s most important – that we are meant to be people of prayer, that we are meant to continue bathing these old walls with our prayers.
I’ve been thinking about prayer more than usual because of the changes we’re making to our Parish Prayer List – that weekly reminder of just how many people are counting on our prayers.
And I’ve also been thinking about prayer more than usual because so many people have been asking for my prayers – prayers for healing, prayers for a good prognosis, prayers for a way when there seems to be no way.
And with all of these prayer requests, with all of this desire for prayer, have you ever wondered about the how and why of prayer?
I mean, God already knows what’s best for us, right?
So why pray?
Our friend Sam Shoemaker said, “Prayer may not change things for you, but it sure changes you for things.”
I like that.
But my favorite explanation about prayer comes from Rowan Williams, the former Archbishop of Canterbury.
God could just go it alone, just be a solo act, but Williams suggests that this isn’t God’s way – that just like God called Ezekiel to prophesy to the old dry bones, just like Jesus called “them” to unbind Lazarus, God wants us to pray, so that we can be part of the grace, part of the blessing.
Lent is drawing to a close, but, no matter the season, God always calls us to new life.
And especially in a time when so many people are bound in so many ways, God invites us to be part of the unbinding, through our works – and through our prayers.
Amen.
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