Sermon: Fifth Week of Lent 2020 - John 11:1-45

March 29, 2020

Watch the full worship service here. Below is a transcript of the sermon. 

Passage: John 11:1-45

Many of us are recognizing things in this text that we perhaps didn’t see before. As we see Mary and Martha’s tears and hear the desperation in their voices, we might find ourselves identifying a little bit with how they’re feeling.  

One of the other readings in this morning’s lectionary is the Ezekiel text of the Valley of Dry Bones. That’s another place we might be feeling a sense of identification with. If you can imagine Ezekiel looking out over an arid, hot desert, barren except for bones and birds picking at the bones, there might be a sense that there’s a little bit of that that we’re living in right now. Things have been stripped away, things that we enjoy, parts of our lives that give us joy and fulfillment.  

We’re kind of stuck, some of us, in one place. We may be afraid and anxious, and for some there’s a sense that death is kind of looming all around us, whether we think we might personally experience loss, or whether it’s just the general sense that it’s in the air. And many, many of us are feeling isolated...lonely...restless. And it was the same kind of despair that Mary and Martha approached Jesus in their grief, asking Jesus, “How? How could you let this happen? You’re like family to us. If you had just come... why did you wait?” 

Certainly, it’s hard to understand why Jesus would have waited in that circumstance. The disciples were perplexed, and then He decided to go anyway. At first, they probably thought it was just too dangerous, but then, once it was too late, that’s when He went. And Mary and Martha-Mary who had knelt before Jesus, anointed Him, wiped His feet with her hair- this Mary, looking at Jesus with eyes full of tears, wondering, “How? Why? Why didn’t you prevent this?” 

Jesus’ response to Mary and Martha isn’t to dismiss their feelings; it’s not to blame Lazarus for getting sick in the first place; and it’s certainly not even to claim that his death was necessary. Instead, when faced with the overwhelming grief around Him, Jesus weeps. Jesus weeps with Mary and Martha. Jesus weeps with us, and Jesus not only weeps, but He also walks straight into that cave. The stone is rolled away, the stench comes rolling out, and Jesus is there. Jesus speaks life into that death, “Lazarus, come out!” as we heard Jason interpret that Biblical passage in his reading. And Lazarus does! Lazarus was raised from death to life. Jesus looks into the face of death and speaks life.  

It can be really hard to live, the way the world is right now, rocked with a little uncertainty every day. The bad news seems to kind of compile. Not only are we stuck in our homes, many of us, but we hear about earthquakes happening all over the world, the markets aren’t stable, and many of us look at the possibility of retirement savings, everyday savings, our livelihood possibly disappearing. And businesses, businesses that people have worked hard to build up, are struggling. They’re struggling in a climate where we’re asked not to interact with one another, for the safety of all. 

And there is a sense in the air that the things we have come to know-this community, this nation, this economy- we fear it might pass away. And Jesus, like with Mary and Martha and Lazarus, doesn’t stand by watching, but enters into this space with us, grieving with us. And just as Jesus commanded to unbind Lazarus: “Let him go!” Jesus has unbound us through His death and resurrection. He has unwound the claws of death and decay in a world of sin. Jesus unwinds our greed and our hypocrisy, unwinds injustice and inequity, unwinds our fears and our anxieties, and brings us into life. 

Jesus proclaimed, “I am the resurrection and the life!” And that little tiny community of Bethany heard it; not only did they hear it, they shared it and believed it! And that’s how we even ever got to hear this story to begin with. That’s how we came to know. And God’s Word can, for us, bring us nourishment in despair and raise us to new life as well.  

Because, the really beautiful thing is, despite the fact that the words are out there, “church” is not cancelled. You can’t cancel church. We’ve simply left the building, but we are still the Church; we are the body of Christ in the world. So when you need, when you long for, the gathering where we sit at the Lord’s Table, receive the bread and the wine, and are nourished on the body and blood of Jesus Christ, look out into the world. I guarantee you’ll see it.  

You’ll see Christ’s body at work in the world in the notes written to folks in nursing homes and hospitals by young people; you’ll see Christ’s body at work in the world in our Food Pantry that continues to operate daily, where people are volunteering who’ve never volunteered before to keep other safe and where we continue to feed those are most at risk of not having what they need. You will see God at work in the world, you will see Christ’s body in the world, through your neighbors who are reaching out, doing small acts of kindness, taking time to check in on one another. And in families, gathered around tables, playing games, parents struggling to continue to enrich their children’s learning while school is out. In time spent together, embracing one another, comforting one another. 

So, as you look out into the world and see Christ at work, Christ’s body, in and through the Church, the people of God, point to it, name it. Not just for the world to know that Christ is still present and still active, but because when we point to and name God’s work in the world, it feeds us, it enriches us, it brings us out of despair and grief and into trust. Knowing that no matter what despair we might experience today, we rest in the solid assurance that Christ has defeated death and brings us to new life, and we will all gather at the eternal banquet.  

We will all be set free from those things that bind us. Christ is with us in our sorrow and grief, and we cling to the promise that Christ will pull us out of this pit of despair and bring us to new life. In Christ, there is life everlasting. This is most certainly true. 

Amen.