There is an undeniable streak of cynicism running through the Gospel story today. A kind of “What’s the point?” pall that seems to hang over this whole story from the start.
Jesus hears of Lazarus’ illness, and decides not to act quickly upon that news.
“How can that be?” we ask, along with many in the story.
“How could Jesus ignore his close friend, the brother of his beloved Mary and Martha in their time of great need?
What kind of friend is Jesus, if he can’t drop everything and come running when needed?”
The Disciples have a cynical outlook on the whole prospect of returning to Judea.
Despite attempts by Jesus to turn this into a “teaching moment” about light and walking in the light, Thomas at least voices the prevailing attitude that is pretty clearly one of cynical resignation.
“Let us also go, that we may die with him.”
Martha is no ray of sunshine, recriminating Jesus when he approaches. “Lord if you had been here….”
Mary echoes her sister’s comments, using practically the same words. “Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
For all the assurances of their faith, the knowledge of him “rising on the last day,’ and the outside hope that “even now God will grant whatever you ask of him.” The problem of Jesus’ hesitation hangs over the whole story.
The crowd assembled is at the same time impressed with Jesus’ coming to be with the grief-stricken family, and with his own evident grief, but they are also betray a skeptical side.
“Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind have kept this man from dying?”
Even Jesus feels a bit caught up by heavy mood at first.
He is moved to tears yes, overwhelmed with emotions at the hardness of reality of this death most final, — he has been four days in the tomb which is “dead-dead” in that culture.
Jesus weeps.
He inquires of where the body of his friend has been lain.
Jesus has words of hope for Martha, assurances for Mary, but also evidently feels the need to lift up his own prayers to his Father.
He does so as a witness to the crowds, or so we are told by him.
But, I suspect there is also a matter of Jesus’ own need here.
We have grown accustomed through the Gospels of watching Jesus find a place to pray, to find solace away from the crowds to commune with the Father.
Here however, he opens up here in plain sight and within earshot out of his own need. “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I know you always hear me….”
Giving voice to that inner knowledge appears to be important for Jesus. It is in this act of “prayer out loud” that we experience Jesus needing to be lifted out of the inexorable pull and drag of this world upon him and upon everyone in the story.
Even, and perhaps especially, the Messiah, the Son of God feels the weight of the world from time to time.
And that, beloved in the Lord, is where I want to take a jog from the Gospel into our own world and own experience right now.
For, if I hear anything these days, it is often overwhelming cynicism about our world!
There is an undeniable streak of cynicism that runs through our daily lives, and we often feel quite powerless to address it, or to deal with it, or to find ways to stave it off from pulling us ever deeper into resignation.
This is where our lives touch this story of Lazarus.
If we are honest with ourselves, we will recognize that our questions are the same as that on the lips of Mary, Martha, the disciples and the crowd.
Where have you been, Jesus?
The cynicism that runs through this story runs through us as well, as so many of us reel at the changes we face, the accusations made about leaders and systems, the actions of those in power and our own feeling of powerlessness in the face of them.
We can no more pull ourselves out of the funk of cynicism these days than the disciples, or Mary, Martha, or the crowds could that day as they gathered at the tomb of four-day-dead Lazarus.
Words alone just don’t have the power to do that.
Not even the most eloquent of prayers or wishful hopes can pull us out of our funk.
No, what is required is nothing short of an experience of resurrection.
A body needs to be called forth from the tomb and brought to life.
We all have to witness some bound-one stagger back out into the light of day.
We have to have some kind of a “hands on” experience with resurrection, be instructed to touch what we thought we had lost, reclaim it, and take part in “unbind him and let him go.”
Nothing short of a resurrection experienced will have any effect on a pall of cynicism when it overtakes.
Mary, Martha, Lazarus himself and the crowds that gathered that day, — and yes, maybe even Jesus himself, will have to witness and experience the dispelling of the darkness that currently envelopes them.
And that, curiously enough, brings us back to our day as well, and claiming something that we have perhaps lost in the midst of all the cynical stuff around us.
Are we not referred to as a “Resurrection People?”
Are we not witnesses to the Resurrection, and to the power of that Resurrection, and have been now for 2000 years?
We need to reclaim who are we!
And where did we see Resurrection?
Oh, beloved, we see it every day!
We see it, but our eyes must be lifted from the fog of cynicism that would keep them from seeing it.
You witnessed Resurrection when you walked into the door today.
Did you see it?
You made a decision to not stay on your sofa, to not catch the early seating at brunch, to not pull the covers back over your head and hunker down.
You stepped inside a church, you tuned in your computer, to see where others made that same decision, and it was a moment of resurrection.
It was you saying defiantly to a word that wonders where Jesus is that you know where to find him.
Jesus lives in the decision to gather.
Jesus lives where the Word is preached and the Sacraments are administered.
Jesus becomes flesh again in the greeting of the neighbor, in the voice uplifted in song, in the bread broken and the wine given and shared.
“Taste and see that the Lord is good,” we defiantly proclaim, as if prophesying to our dry old bones.
We watch them come together again and take on muscle and sinew in the Body of Christ as it assembles in this place. We are connected sinew by sinew, enfleshed in common experience – even online and separated by distance.
Time and distance has not erased the truth that because Christ Jesus was raised from the dead, we too might have a new life.
Every Day!
Resurrection resides in the stocked pantry shelves, and in the sacrifices made to feed the hungry and cloth the naked.
Resurrection lives because we don’t do those things just because they are a good idea, or because of the need or necessary, but because we follow a Risen Savior who has shown us how to love and has commanded us to feed.
Resurrection lives in the way we treat one another; in the kind and the tenderhearted words we speak to one another in the midst of our own grief.
Resurrection lives in the truth that must be spoken to power, the reminder of Last Judgment, the call to love, and forgive, and care for the vulnerable in society.
Resurrection lives in an offering taken, in the decision to give of one’s resources so that the lights may remain on, the organ kept in tuned, the gathering renewed and the story may be told again and again.
Resurrection is evident in the notes of the singers, and in the passing of the peace, and in the lesson that is prepared and in the child who is welcomed.
Resurrection is found in the work of committees, in the silent service of cups filled with wine, linen lovingly arranged just as carefully as any folded linen cloth at the empty tomb.
You will witness resurrection in this world whenever you turn your eyes upward and pray to God, “I know that you always hear me…”
The furious plots and plannings of the kings, princes, presidents and nations have never been able to hold back the flood of justice and righteousness that comes from God and God’s Kingdom when it is made known.
“The arc of the moral universe is long” said Martin Luther King Jr. “but it bends toward justice.”
This is what we need to see in this Gospel today.
For all the cynicism that is displayed by all those involved in the story, when Resurrection Power is beheld, the world is changed, and many come to believe.
When Resurrection Power is displayed in hope restored in people, faith flourishes.
This is what we do, Resurrection People.
We dispel the cynicism of this world by witnessing to what we see every day.
We hear the call of Jesus that brings the dead out of their graves.
We watch as those who were formerly as the dead to us make their way back to life.
We get busy with our own hands unbinding and setting free those who stagger back to life.
We reach out and strip away, bit by bit, the things that bind and hold back the Kingdom in our midst, and toss away our own cynicism like so many dirty rags.
We do all that by striding into this world to do the work of a Resurrected people.
Jesus is raised, and lives in us. He has shown us the power of the resurrection, and the very gates of hell will not in the end prevail against it.