TO BE & TO FREE LAZARUS
Isaiah 26:6-9; John 11:32-44
All Saints Sunday, November 3, 2024
Rev. Dr. Ritva H. Williams
We meet Jesus this morning at the tomb of Lazarus, a beloved friend buried four days earlier. Family, friends and neighbors have gathered to support the family through that first intense week of devastating grief. The scene is highly emotional. Mary throws herself at Jesus’ feet crying out, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
How often do we play the “if only” game? Fantasizing about what we might have done differently? As if we could change the past. If only Jesus had been present our loved one would not have died. This is a moment for a reality check. In all of the gospels there is not a single instance where Jesus keeps someone from dying — not even himself. Jesus knows, better than anyone, that the road through death and the grave is the only road into the resurrection and life everlasting.
Have you ever noticed that Lazarus never speaks? Not during his illness and dying. Not during his restoration to life and the banquet that follows (11:1-44; 12:1-8). In Luke’s gospel Jesus presents Lazarus as a poor beggar lying at the gate of a rich man’s house. There too he is silent both in his suffering, and when he is safely cradled in the bosom of Abraham (6:19-31).
Why does Lazarus never speak? Is Lazarus non-verbal, physically or cognitively divergent? It would be just like Jesus to love a person whom society has written off as having little or nothing to offer. Or, was Lazarus silenced by fear of family, friends, neighbors, church, and yes — even Jesus. Afraid someone would discover the truth about them. Could this fear be so great it becomes a sickness of body, mind and spirit that finally makes it impossible for Lazarus to live?
Everyone of us is Lazarus. Even while we are physically alive, death meets us in those areas of life where we are more vulnerable, frail, hurting, or negative (John O’Donohue, Anam Cara, p. 200). Like Lazarus we can find ourselves silenced by shame and sorrow, fear and frustration, pain and prejudice, guilt and grief — our own and imposed by others. We feel paralyzed, as if we are tied up in a shroud. Unable to move forward. Unable to be our true selves. Unable to live our lives to the fullest.
Lazarus’ circumstances trigger a deep emotional response from Jesus that is difficult to translate into adequate English words. He is filled with sorrow and sadness, but he is also disturbed and troubled — even disappointed, frustrated and angry. Jesus weeps because his beloved friend has died. Jesus weeps with Mary, sharing her sorrow and grief. Until once again Jesus, greatly disturbed, marches out to Lazarus’ tomb and starts issuing orders. Martha is directed to “take away the stone.” Lazarus is commanded to “come out.” Jesus then waits. Only when Lazarus walks out of the grave on his own two feet, does Jesus give the order, “Unbind him and let him go.”
Lazarus is restored to life, but family, friends and neighbors must take away the stone that locks them in the tomb. Lazarus must choose life. But the community — we, disciples of Jesus — must undo what keeps the silenced one bound. Each one of us is Lazarus called to take up new life at some point in our lives. All of us are also siblings, friends, and neighbors called by Christ to do our part in rolling away the stones of racism, prejudice, misogyny (hatred of women), homo-and-trans phobia that obstruct access to safe homes, safe jobs, and health care for all. All of us are called to do what we can to unbind our sibling, friend and neighbor from the messages that silence them by labeling them unworthy of respect, dignity, freedom and life.
The good news in the story of Lazarus, as expressed by Professor Brian Petersen is this: there is no death, no grief, no fear so deep and dark that the voice of Jesus cannot reach into it, call us out, and give us life … on both sides of the grave. The crucified and risen Christ is the Resurrection and the Life (John 11:26). Isaiah’s promises are fulfilled in the Risen Christ who who makes a feast for all people, feeding humanity a banquet of rich foods and well-aged wines. The Risen Christ swallows the grief and mourning of all people and nations, wipes away tears from all faces, and restores honor to all the earth. The Risen Christ swallows even death itself transforming it into new life.
On this All Saints Sunday we give thanks for our participation in the communion of saints named and claimed by Christ, recognize our newest saints, and remember the saints who have died in the past twelve months. As we reflect with sadness tinged with gratitude how they walked along us and shaped our lives, let us also ponder how we can walk alongside and make safe paths for this who will follow us.
Let us begin our Rite of Remembrance with this prayer and blessing written by Jan Richardson. It is called “For Those Who Walked With Us” (paintedprayerbook.com).
For those who walked with us, this is a prayer.
For those who have gone ahead, this is a blessing.
For those who have touched and tended us,
who lingered with us while they lived, this is a thanksgiving.
For those who still journey will us in the shadows of awareness,
in the crevices of memory, in the landscape of our memories,
this is a benediction.
Amen.
