Readings appointed for Lent 5A can be found at http://lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Lent/ALent5_RCL.html
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My calling has
been shaped by death, but it is also one shaped by life. From a stint in chaplaincy,
to the cradle to grave nature of my current call as rector of a parish, I have
walked with people in times of joy and in times of deep sorrow.
Weeping at the grave feels
familiar to me, I’ve been there to witness and to weep. And, so as we stand at the tomb, Lazarus’
tomb, it feels familiar. I, like many of you, know that grief.
We know the grief that accompanies
death and in the story of Lazarus we are invited to know death but also to know
life. To know life where we had expected death.
And with that knowledge, we hold
onto the Christian hope that I have preached at every funeral I have presided
at.
The truth?
That death is not the end of our story.
It is not the end
of the story here and now, and it was not the end of the story then and there. In
that place where Jesus and his disciples knew he was on tenuous footing, the
situation was volatile and any moment could bring things to a head. And, this, this
moment of death become life, was that moment…
That moment of
death become life. That moment the last straw.
The last straw was
life.
Because, when
Jesus wept at the grave of his friend. And, his friend awoke from the sleep
that was death.
Jesus had defied,
in the eyes of authorities, heaven and earth.
And, this was the
last straw for those authorities who feared his power and his seeming defiance
of the rules of God and man. For this and for fear, we will find him on the
cross.
But, before the
cross is life. And, this was a defiance born not of power…but, of love.
For when he
answered the call of his dear friends Mary and Martha, he responded out of
love. Mary and Martha were sure of his love for their family and sure of their
love for him. And so, their call to him was born out of the blessed assurance
that his love would lead him.
Would lead him to
death.
Not the death of
Lazarus. Tho’ that is the central instrument driving this particular portion of
the narrative. But, his own death. To return to Bethany in Judea was to put
himself back in the public eye.
And, ultimately
that public would rise up both in acclamation and in condemnation.
Because, the last
straw was life.
Life, born of
love. Of faith. Of trust.
That perfect love
that casts out fear.
And, conquers
death.
Conquers death, once
and for all.
As the prophet
had foretold…
“you shall know
that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves,
O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live”
The people of
Israel knew, they knew that God’s call would be to life. But, they did not know
how it might come. So when he opened the grave the people saw and when they saw
they knew. They knew that all their hopes would be fulfilled, and that the
immutable law was not death, but life.
The cry of the
people was answered and would be answered afresh when the body rent asunder
becomes the body made whole.
Tears born of
love.
Sorrow birthing
joy.
Lamentation born
of hope.
And, in that, I
want you to sit for just a moment with a powerful truth—lament is born of hope.
We lament because
we trust in God’s promise. We lament because we trust in God’s future. We
lament because we, like Mary and Martha, WE are dissatisfied with the status
quo that accepts death as inevitable and loss as the end.
The tradition of
lamentation comes from a place of utter reliance on the God of our salvation. Lament confronts the powerful with despair
and anger, holding those powers accountable to the promises that have been
made, “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.”
I hear the anger
in her voice…IF you had been here, my brother would not have died. And, then
the faith that confronts Jesus with an undeniable truth—his path is the path of
life. Even now…even now, I know that you will keep God’s promise of life!
Martha knew. Mary
knew. And, what they knew the world would see.
See the sorrow as
he began to weep, see the testimony of love expressed by his tears. See the
life that came from a lament fulfilled in life.
“see how he loved
him”
“see how he loved
him”
And when we can
see this, we can see a further truth…”see how he loves us.”
Throughout
scripture we see God responding again and again to our pain and suffering with
healing, wholeness and the constant invitation to reconciliation.
So, when I hear
Mary and Martha in their despair and anger, their pain and frustration, I hear
lamentation but I also hear an invitation to a life of faith that pins its
hopes on new life in Christ.
The tradition of
lamentation is one that has become central to my understanding of what it is to
be a Christian in the here and the now—lamentation expresses our anguish at
what is from the perspective of what we know can be.
We lament because
we hope. We lament because we trust in the promise that death is not the end of
the story and that the death dealing powers of this world will lose.
Lamentation is
the protest march of scripture—a protest march against those powers that would
steal life from us and from any of God’s people.
So to be a
Christian is to lament with hope and participate in the protest. Joining in the
righteous indignation, “if you had been here”.
If YOU had been
here!
This is the cry
we make, yet it is also the cry that we are called to heed. Because, in our
tradition we hold that the you of Christ Jesus is the truth of all of us. We are the body of Christ and we are
being asked to show up with life in the “here” where there is death. The here
where we ourselves participate in the in-breaking of life. Ushering God into the
presence of those broken places and people that long for wholeness. We lament and we respond to lamentation—it is
our nature and it is our calling.
And, so this
Lenten time—is one of lament. A lamentation that confronts the status quo of
death with the truth of which Paul speaks, “The law of the Spirit of life in
Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death”.
Set free from
death…scripture teaches that neither death nor life can separate us from the
love of God. So in our living and in our
dying we are participants in a body that is not bound by death--”unbind him and
let him go” he says. And he, and we, are
free.
The last straw is
life, and this life has set us free.
And from this
place of freedom, we are invited to become active participants in the
lamentation that confronts death dealers with life bringers. To be, as Christians, those that keep God's promise of life in the face of those who deal in death.
The last straw is
life. The last straw is ours. And, when we lay that last straw down, we shall break the back
of death and all shall be free.
Amen.
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