Would it surprise you if I admitted that my favorite line from the Lazarus passage comes from the KJV (remember, I’m an old Baptist and that’s the version we used and I memorized as a child!)? In verse 39 Martha, the sister of Lazarus, says, “Lord, by this time he stinketh”?! And you thought there was no humor in the Bible!
Good old Martha, the one who thinks the way to get to heaven is to have the house clean and a casserole prepared. On the cusp of her brother’s miracle, she is worried about the smell. She’s worried about Jesus getting down and dirty into the smelly, messy things of life.
But that is where Jesus wants to be and not far away on some heavenly throne. Jesus seeks us out, too, in the messy places of life, right where we are – in the hurt and stink of illness and divorce and death and the mess of disappointment and economic disaster.
Lazarus “stinketh,” but so do lots of things in this world. Jesus is not concerned or repulsed by the stink. Just as he greeted a four-day dead Lazarus, he stands with us in our need.
In John’s story of Lazarus, the glory of God breaks into the midst of a grieving family. It dazzles in the presence of their tears, in spite of their doubt, with no mind of the lateness of the hour or the assignment of blame. In Ezekiel’s vision, divine activity breathes life into the trash pile of the dry bones of an entire people. Should it be any different for us today?
During the past weeks in Lent, we have been reading a series of stories – lo-o-ng stories – from John’s Gospel – stories of encounters between Jesus and people: Nicodemus, the woman at the well, a blind man, and today, Lazarus and his two sisters, Mary and Martha.
It would be easy to see these as simply stories – told and written down to tell us something about Jesus and how he interacts with others, whether they come with questions in the middle of the night, or at a ‘local watering hole,’ by a roadside, or on the way to visit good friends.
One of the reasons John tells these stories is to show us the human side of Jesus, the One who became flesh and dwells among us – the God-in-flesh who engaged women in theological debate and who wept at a friend’s death.
But John also tells these stories to show us how God in Jesus views us. He tells these stories to let us know some of God’s dreams for us. He tells these stories to show us Jesus’ vision of what his church might look like.
So, in Nicodemus, we see those around us, especially in our highly secular culture, who have questions about Jesus and about faith – and about how doubters and wonderers might be treated if they brought such inquiries to those of us who call ourselves God’s Church. They think about these questions in the dead of night.
Will we be willing to meet them and answer in the shadows of their darkness; or will we be open for God’s work by appointment only and only in the bright light of Sunday morning?
If we take the time and trouble to look, we see the woman at the well in our neighbors around us. They are the folks who work at jobs we would never take, people who live in Section 8 housing, single divorced moms and gay dads struggling to keep a family together. They walk past our building wondering if the folks inside who are so different in background, culture and faith, might welcome them at times other than when we host Patriot’s Kitchen.
We encounter folks like the blind man, those who will be seen last in ERs and may be turned away from doctors’ offices, simply because they cannot afford health care. We meet them when they cry out to us on the street corner for help. We ignore them as we speculate about the ‘how’s and why’s’ of their circumstances, rather than being willing to get a little ‘muddy’ in order to engage them and understand their lives.
And every time we go to a funeral, every time we stand by an open grave on a wintry day, every time a plane lands filled with flag-draped coffins, we have a chance to be with the Martha’s and Mary’s all around us, and to witness with them that ‘yes, Lord, we believe; even in our despair, we believe.’
Did you notice in today’s story that when Lazarus came forth from the tomb, he was still wearing his burial clothes? They were binding him, keeping him from progressing, from walking unhindered in the newness of life to which Christ had called him. Jesus told those standing by, “Unbind him and let him go!”
Jesus called on Lazarus’ family and friends to help him in completing this miracle. He calls on the family of Grace Church to unbind those among us today who still wear the burial cloths of despair, guilt and hopelessness and to wrap them in the robe of life in Christ.
Ezekiel’s vision shows us a skeleton of a once-vibrant people – folks who are totally “disconnected” from each other and from their sense of purpose and identity. It was not a pretty picture for God’s people then and it is no prettier for God’s people, the Church, today.
John’s stories, on the other hand, give us a clear and compelling vision of what Jesus’ church can and should look like.
Where might Grace Church, Paris TN fit into the story?
