June 5, 2005

Not Skeered of Dyin'

Ezekiel 37:1-14
John 11:1-45

One of the memorable songs from the musical, "Showboat," is the haunting ballad, "Ol' Man River," depicting the sad plight of the slaves who worked along the banks of the Mississippi. The depths of despondency and despair are vocalized in these lyrics: [sung by Bob Engel]
"Ah gits weary and sick of tryin',
Ah'm tired of livin' and skeered of dyin',
But Ol' Man River, he jes' keeps rollin' along."

Have you ever felt that way? There've been times I have. Weary and sick of trying, tired of living, but not too enthused about the alternative. This is how the people of Israel must have felt during the time of the Exile when Ezekiel was a prophet among them. Their temple has been destroyed, the land made desolate, and they are in bondage. They cry out in their despair and hopelessness: "Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely." They believe that God has given up on them; they believe they're no longer worthy to receive God's promised blessing. The life they face is a living death, a life without hope, a life without God - "cut off completely."

The issue of death, despair, and hopelessness is also part of the Lazarus story. When Jesus proposes to his disciples that they accompany him to Bethany, they're not thrilled at the prospect of walking into a trap - at this point in Jesus' ministry he's antagonized the authorities so much, that his "wanted posters" are hanging on every tree between there and Jerusalem. The disciples are tempted to say to their Master, "You go ahead, Jesus. We'll wait for you while you go to the funeral. Give our condolences to Martha and Mary." But Thomas, sometimes the questioning one, this time is the faithful one, and he says to his colleagues: "Let us also go, that we may die with him." So, the disciples go with their Lord to Bethany, they go to this town not far from fateful Jerusalem, and they go with their eyes wide open to the possibility of death.

After they all arrive, Martha and Mary, both in deep grief, cry out to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, [our] brother would not have died." Even Jesus himself is overwhelmed with their grief, and perhaps also for his own impending loss, and he weeps. Martha again utters words of hopelessness when Jesus suggests opening the tomb: "Lord, already there is a stench, because he has been dead four days."

Dry bones on a desert floor - a people broken, scattered, and defeated. A dear friend in a dark tomb - heart-broken relatives, the man obviously quite dead. If that's all there was to these two stories, they'd be tragedies, and not particularly inspiring. But of course, there's more. And there is more for us also - more than remaining in our tombs of despair, more than remaining in a state of hopeless anxiety, more than being filled with the fear of death, or worse, the fear of unfulfilled life. Just as most of us believe there is more than nothingness after death, so also there is more than nothingness after birth. Our Christian faith teaches us that we don't have to be "skeered of dyin'," that we don't have to be scared of that time or state of being following death. And it teaches us that life itself can be more than what it often appears to be, if we will be open to God's Spirit within us.

God's promise to the despairing people of Israel is offered to us as well: "I will cause breath to enter you ... and put [my] breath in you, and you shall live. ..." But we have to meet God half way, so to speak; we have to be willing to choose the alternatives in life that enable God's Spirit to work most effectively. I saw a poster that has on it a worm-like larva, a cocoon, and a butterfly, with a caption: "The choice is yours!" The choice is ours. We can worm our way through life, making death-like choices of selfishness and sin; we can burrow in the dirt of despair and hopelessness; we can refrain from making any choice that we don't absolutely have to make, hiding in our cocoons, blocking out others who might be willing to help us, ignoring those who need our help. Or, we can let the Spirit of God lift us into the sunlight of God's freedom and life; we can choose the life of courage and goodness; we can choose the life of hope and new possibilities. There are risks involved, for sure, potential stumbling blocks, maybe even unknown enemies lurking in the shadows. But to fly in the fresh air of Christian hope and joy, to follow the flight of the Spirit of God, that's living! The alternative to choosing life, is to let life slowly seep out of us, letting it wear away at us with the passage of time, not allowing its joy to spread to others. The alternative is to choose death. (i)

Regarding choosing life, the great pianist, Arthur Rubinstein, offered these words to live by: "I'm passionately involved in life; I love its changes, its colors, its movement. To be alive, to be able to see, to walk, to have ... music, paintings ... it's all a miracle. I have adopted the technique of living life from miracle to miracle ... what people get out of me is this spirit which comes out in my music." (ii) That is choosing life!

There's something else God promises to the people of Israel through the prophet Ezekiel, something promised to us also: "I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves ..." This is similar to the promise offered to us by Jesus Christ who declares, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live." God promises to us through Christ eternal life. We will never experience death in the ultimate sense. Death becomes a mere moment; life is for eternity. Death becomes but a ripple in the brook; life is the main stream. Death is but a doorway to be passed through, leading to a room filled with wonders and joys unimaginable.

The story of Jesus opening the grave of Lazarus is about life now, even more than promises of life after death. It's about second chances in this life now. New life can begin now if we're open to it. We don't have to wait until we're dead! Jesus shouts, "Lazarus, come out!" And he comes out. Jesus says, "Unbind him, and let him go," and he is freed from his bondage. And he says the same to you and me today. We are invited to come out of our tombs and be freed from all that binds us and holds us down.

The story of the raising of Lazarus has been set to music and dance in a stirring ballet. Lazarus is seen wrapped and bound by his shroud. He lies cold and unfeeling in his grave. It is silent, empty, void of meaning. Then suddenly, the stone is rolled away from the opening, and Lazarus becomes aware of the light. Gradually the light grows brighter, and as it does, Lazarus begins to feel the warmth. And then he hears a sound: a voice from the light, calling him, calling him by name. Someone knows him. Someone remembers him, and cares. Lazarus feels he can move, that he's capable of moving. Slowly, with determination, he gets up and moves toward the light. It's difficult because he is still bound in his death wrappings. But he struggles and stumbles, and finally makes it out into the light. The wrappings strangely begin to fall away, and as they do, he begins to move more freely, slowly at first because his muscles are stiff. He has to learn all over again it seems, but it gets easier and easier - and finally, he begins to dance.

And what a dance he does. It is though he's no longer bound by the forces and tensions of the world we know so well. In his leaping, he seems to defy gravity. He has potential he never knew he had, and he moves in ways he never dreamed possible. It's not that the world has changed, but Lazarus surely has. His whole perspective has changed. He is resurrected and rejoices in the dance of life. And we can rejoice also. (iii)

It probably won't be easy. Faith in Christ is never easy. We, like Lazarus, will probably continue to struggle and stumble along the way. But as we go hopefully we'll remember that we have a God who cares for us, who calls out our name, who beckons us to the light of new life. God in Christ is ready to breathe new life into our dry bones, is ready to open up our graves, our tombs, s ready to empower us to new life. All we need to do is trust in this loving God, have faith in God's power, and resolve to choose God's way, the way of life. And then, begin to dance! Amen.

The Pilgrim Church of Duxbury
Rev. Kenneth C. Landall

i Emphasis, 4/8/84, p. 11.
ii Pulpit Resource, 4/8/84.
iii Emphasis, op. cit., p. 12.