Meeting Resurrected Jesus again . . .

     I suppose the seeds for this sermon began germinating Monday night at the Y.  Those who come regular understand I have a lot of interesting conversations at the Y.  As I was getting ready to bench, though, some gentlemen came up to me and asked me if it was true.  I had that look of “I was just psyching myself up to exercise what the heck are you talking about” on my face.  They were a bit hurt, so I told them I needed them to be more specific.  I was knee deep in Holy Week activities, and I had no idea which thing they were referencing.  It turns out they had read my sermon from Lent 5 and wanted to know if the story was true.  The story is such that, by the time I had addressed their questions, and the questions of those who felt compelled to join our conversation, that I barely had time to finish my lifting and get in thirty minutes on the bike.  But their questions were far more important.

     Those who attend regularly can fill in other details that interest those of you who come less frequently.  The question was whether God still does miracles.  On Lent 5, I had shared the story of laying hands on Gib with the folks down at the Fountains in Franklin.  By way of a quick summary, some eight or ten years ago I was summoned to the hospital at about 2 or 3 in the morning to give last rights to a man in the hospital from a neighboring parish.  I had dutiful gone to the hospital to minister to the family and, if Gib could hear us, give him permission to die.  Now, Adventers will tell you I can talk.  I am not often at a loss for words.  I will tell you that I can read.  Given me a liturgy and I am set!  But I found myself in the middle of that night unable to read the words of Ministration at the Time of Death in our Prayer Book.  It was not that the words were hard or anything like that.  I simply could not give the words voice.

     In the midst of that struggle to read the words, I eventually realized what was happening.  The Holy Spirit had bound my tongue.  Now, I was being told to pray a healing prayer.  Those of you who do not know me cannot begin to understand how left-brain I really am.  There is not a single creative bone, a right brain vestige, in my body.  I am a cause and effect kind of guy, if ever there was one.  I think the world is measurable, dependable, and that we, well I, can interpret the presented data accurately.  I see the nods.  Some of you are like that, too, I see.

     After some time, and though it was a minute or two, it seemed like hours, I finally through up my hands and told God I would do as He commanded.  But this was on Him!  He was going to have to deal with the fall out of the widow.  He was going to have to deal with Darrin when he got back from vacation and found the mess I had created.  I was not going to give that soon-to-be-widow false hope.  THAT was not my idea.

     I was so stubborn about the blame, I even apologized to her as I closed my prayer book and started to pray.  I am so sorry I am doing this.  It is not my idea.  It’s God’s.  She thought I had lost my mind.  It was probably confirmed when I prayed an extemporaneous prayer rather than one from our beloved BCP.

     The rest is history.  I prayed over that man dying from aneurism.  He sat up wondering where he was and telling us he had to pee.

     What interested the group at the Y Monday was not the miracle.  They giggled, like y’all, at Gib’s first words.  Oh, and there were a few questions about it, to be sure, but most really enjoyed the fact that I fought with God about the prayer.  We spent maybe as much as forty-five minutes discussing the wrestling and the results.  And we even moved on to the question of whether miracles happen anymore.  Some were surprised to hear that such healings take place.  But the real focus for maybe forty-five minutes to an hour, was on the wrestling.  It gave them a peculiar hope that a priest could have the same arguments, the same boneheadedness, as them, and still God acts.

     If you are sitting here today expecting a “here’s proof that the Resurrection happened” sermon, you will be sorely disappointed with me.  I learned a long time ago that I am no Peter when it comes to preaching.  The throngs don’t stop their bustling and listen to my sermons and immediately confess their faith in God.  Most of us have sat through such sermons, and even sermons that point out our acceptance of UFO’s or Bigfoot or whatever even when we do not believe in the Resurrection of Jesus.  Has it worked?  Have such sermons caused you to give your life to God?  I mean truly and without reservation give yourself to God?  Give yourself to God in such a way that, if you died today, your friends and neighbors and coworkers would not be surprised you were buried from a church?  Have such sermons kindled that fire within you that causes you to burn for His righteousness and His glory and His holiness?  No.  My guess is that they helped us keep God at arms’ length, but THAT is a different sermon.

     We use Lent, at least we use Lent at Advent, as a time to talk about the depth or shallowness of our faith.  Oh, if you ask an Adventer, they will tell you that Fr. Brian is working on helping them improve their relationship with God.  I encourage us to study Scripture or engage in prayer or spend time in meditation or spend more time in worship or spend more time in service of others.  But all those disciplines help us strengthen our relationship to God.  Put another way, those spiritual disciplines help us develop more or strengthen our faith.  Those of us who gather here today probably like the fruits of those increased efforts in Lent.  We want desperately to believe that God is real.  We want desperately to believe that God can and does act in our lives for our benefit.  We want to know that He truly is good, that He truly does love us, and that He made is possible that we can spend eternity with Him.

     But when it comes to Easter, we hit a big stumbling block.  When it comes to Easter we hit that wall that makes the one in Westeros seem small by comparison.  What?  I’m not supposed to know you like Game of Thrones?  Even the folks on the Jesus seminar can accept that Jesus was born in Nazareth and that He died on a Cross.  But coming back to life from the dead?  Whoa, now!  There are just some things that cannot possibly be true, can they?

     If you find yourself sharing those doubts, if you find yourself wishing you had a kernel of faith like the loved one that introduced you to God or like your neighbor or coworker who invited you today, you are not alone.  In fact, you are in better company than you might know.

     Our account of the Resurrection comes from John this morning.  John is known as the great theologian of the Gospel writers, deservedly so, but notice the details about faith that he shares in the story.  First off, John is the disciple whom Jesus loved.  As John tells the story of his response, he tells us clearly gets it.  John sees and believes.  What does he believe, though?  He heads back to be with the other disciples, but we will find him in a locked room full of fear.  Other writers will tell us that John was among those who did not know what to make of that Empty Tomb 2000 years ago!  If John really understood the significance of the Resurrection of Jesus, would he be afraid?  Would he doubt the stories of the women and Mary Magdalene, in particular?

     But John is representative of those for whom faith comes easily.  If you are a doubter or seeker today, folks like John are those who always seem to see things through the lenses or eyes of faith.  They never question their belief; their faith never seems shaken.  Sometimes we oscillate between wanting to kill such people and to share desperately in their simplicity, don’t we?  Perhaps there are some folks like John here this morning.  You believe that He rose from the dead and that is enough.  The events in the world around you cause you no crises of faith.  You know, in ways you cannot explain, that God is bending the world towards His ends.  You, like John, are truly blessed.

     I suspect more of us, though, fall into the Peter or Mary camp of faith.  Unlike John, who sees the evidence of the Empty Tomb and believes, Peter is not sure what is going on.  John allows that Peter is braver, as Peter enters the Tomb first, but John comments that they did not understand the Scripture, that He must rise from the dead.  Like John, Peter is not in the locked room telling the others that Jesus is raised.  Like John, Peter is not telling the men that the women were correct.

     It takes Peter time to put it all together.  Peter has to consider what Jesus has taught him, what he has seen, what he has experienced, and even overcome the guilt he has from abandoning His Lord just a few hours after he drew a sword in His defense.  There is, for Peter, much to process, much to consider, much to see.  But once Peter sees Jesus, though, look at the change!  Peter goes from a man who, just a couple nights ago, denied even knowing Jesus of Nazareth and, this morning in history, terrified of the Jewish and Roman leadership, to a man whom we read about in Acts today.  That same Peter is the one calling the Sanhedrin and the people of Jerusalem to believe in the Lord Jesus!  Something sure “clicked” for Peter, and it was the Resurrection which made that click possible!

     Many of us here today, I suspect, fall into Mary’s camp.  Mary sees the same evidence as John and Peter, but she is certain someone has stolen her Lord’s body.  Her plea to everyone is simply to tell her where to find His body.  She begs the angels, and she begs Jesus.  When Jesus comes up behind her, she has no idea it is Him.  It takes Jesus saying her name for her to understand what has happened.  Truly, He knows His sheep, and His sheep know His voice!  Mary heads back to where the disciples are gathered and tells them all that she has seen the Lord.  We know from other accounts that the disciples still have doubts, but Mary grief is clearly transformed from grief to unimaginable joy.  There have always been people who claimed that Jesus’ Resurrection was a fantasy.  People have tried to explain it as His body being snatched by His disciples, as a mass grief-induced hysteria, as a non-physical event, or an outright lie.  Like us and like the disciples who first witnessed His Resurrection, death seems unconquerable by human effort, human will, or human expertise.  Thankfully and mercifully God meets us where we are so that we may make up our minds.  We may choose to bend the knee and serve, or we may, like skeptics throughout all ages, reject His invitation to true glory and eternity.

     Sitting here in Nashville nearly 2000 years and some 6400 miles removed from the events of that morning, you may be inclined to argue whether God meets you as you need.  But the evidence before you is as clear as the brilliant sun this morning.

     Why are you here?  If you want to place yourself in the camp of the skeptics or doubters or unbelievers, why do you drag yourself to church on Easter?  The threat of disappointing grandma or mom wears off as we grow older.  And if mom or grandma has passed into her glory already, well, it’s not much of a threat, is it?  So why are you here?  Why do you give up time sleeping, on the golf course, out on the lake fishing, catching up on your favorite series, or any number of infinite possible distractions?

     My guess is, if you are not here because of the threat of a living matriarch, you are here because someone introduced you to the Gospel.  Chances are, somebody you respected, maybe somebody you loved, introduced you to the Lord Christ.  If you respected or loved them, I’m guessing a part of them that inspired your respect or your love was the fact that they lived their life as if they believed that Tomb was truly empty, as if God truly Resurrected Jesus and offered us all eternal life through Him.  Make no mistake, living their life as if they believed did not make them perfect.  They sinned; but they truly repented.  They had an ego; but they humbly and truly tried faithfully to respond to God’s calls on their life.  They were busy; but they recognized that even their time belonged to God, and so they carved out time to pray to Him, to study Him, and to worship Him.  To you, their faith seems almost naïve, almost impulsive like John’s today.  Maybe you wonder if they know or knew in what or in whom they were placing their faith.  Some may have laughed with you if you ever had the guts to ask that question of them!

     For you Peter’s, you wonder at the evidence.  Where is the proof that Jesus was the Christ and that He was resurrected and that through believing in Him you might have eternal life?  The fact that we are gathered here today should be proof enough.  For those of you unaware of history, both the Temple leaders and the Roman empire tried hard to halt this spread of this story.  Hard.  All the men in the locked room died a martyr’s death, all experienced some degree of torture in an effort to get them to recant.  When given the chance to recant and live or to die, all chose death.  What would give them that confidence but their encounters with the Resurrected Jesus?  What explains their lack of concern about their own impending physical death?  I know, it’s easier to believe that they told a “lie” because they wanted to help someone unrelated to them gain the power of the Church centuries later—you laugh, but that is a thread of skepticism out there, and those who believe it call Christians gullible!

     And while we are on those men, what do you make of Peter?  Just Thursday night we read that Peter denied even knowing Jesus of Nazareth three times before the night was over, so afraid was he of being drawn into the trial of his Lord!  Yet this morning we read the account of Him sharing the Gospel with the household of Cornelius.  He is extending the invitation of the Covenant to Gentiles!  But before that, the same Peter who was so afraid on Maundy Thursday and in that locked room that Easter morning, will evangelize the very Sanhedrin who put His Lord to death and will proclaim to all Jerusalem on the day of Pentecost that salvation is offered through Christ, who died, who rose again, and who will come again!  What would it take for such a man to go from that kind of visceral fear to that kind of conviction and boldness?  What of Paul?  He was a fast riser in the Temple.  He was a Benjamite and a Roman citizen!  And he willingly gives it all up, counts it as skubala in his words, when compared to the offer of Christ.  What of Mary?  She is beyond distraught as we read the account this morning.  She is convinced someone has stolen the body of her Lord.  By the end of the passage her joy cannot be contained.  A woman runs to where the disciples are staying and tells them all that Jesus said to her!  Her boldness and her proclamation earn her the title of Apostle to the Apostles—she is the first to receive the “go and proclaim” command of our Lord Christ.  And she does.

     Given such pathetic beginnings, how do you explain the presence of the Church today?  Rome tried hard to stamp it out, and, believe me, they were good at eradicating enemies—just ask Carthage.  Yet an emperor bent the knee some two centuries after a predecessor puts Peter and Paul to death.  The Church’s message is one of serving others of salvation freely given.  At our very best, we exist for the benefit of those not yet members.  It’s the craziest business plan I have ever read; it is likely the nuttiest one you have ever heard.  Yet here it is.  Evidence for you to make your decision.

     And while I deal a lot in the past, I am a Classicist by educational training, God still meets us today.  Again, you may argue Brian, God has never healed anyone for whom I have prayed.  He does not appear to me in my garden to chat.  Fair enough.  He certainly has not raised everyone for whom I have prayed, either.  But He sure has answered countless prayers for healing in my presence.  The one I shared is just the most . . . longed for, if not what we really need for our faith.  How many people here watched a glorious cathedral burn in France earlier this week?  Some of you may have your own memories of Notre Dame.  Sociologists and other experts claim that France is the most “post-Christian” country in the West.  Yet, that most “post-Christian” country has now had over a $1 billion dollars pledged to help in its reconstruction.  “Post-Christian” people paying to reconstruct a cathedral to the glory of God!  I don’t think our brothers and sisters at the National Cathedral here in America, which some in the church like to think of as God’s chosen nation, have raised the $25 million needed for earthquake repair.

     When we go home today, we will likely hear all kinds of wonderful redemptive stories, in the midst of a terrible massacre of Christians, in Sri Lanka.  As we began early service this morning, the toll stood at just over 200 dead, plus many others wounded.  I am certain the numbers will go up as they continue to dig through the rubble from the explosions; but, as the days and weeks progress, I am certain we will hear stories that testify to God’s presence in the midst of that horrible suffering.  And people will show up for church later this week, risking further attacks, confident in their faith, certain that God will raise them if the attackers strike again.

     Though such sufferings may seem muted by distance, we expect God’s redemption because we have seen it occur far closer to home.  Churches have burned in Mississippi, perhaps because of deferred maintenance, but perhaps because of racism.  On a far smaller scale than France, our citizens have pledged to rebuild.  The monies pledged pale in comparison, but they are no less significant.  God cares both for the individual and the people groups.  God sees the heart of His Son in His other children when dozens worship in rural Louisiana or when throngs worship in majestic cathedrals.  Both are equally pleasing in His sight.

     We, too, have the examples of Charleston and Antioch.  No doubt you have heard far more about the forgiveness and grace that flowed in the aftermath of the attack in Antioch, and continues to this day.  But it is that evidence which will cause us not to be surprised by what will come out of Sri Lanka.  God meets us afresh with new evidences of His redeeming power.  We have only to make up our minds when presented with the evidence.

     Make no mistake friends, every day that you are confronted with this evidence, you are making a decision regarding faith.  Even a decision to wait to make up your mind later is evidence of your faith.  The real question is what is it, or who is it, in which you are placing your faith?  So many of us are tempted to place our faith in what we can see, what we can feel, what we can experience.  To use the words of God, we place our faith in ourselves, or perhaps in the things we think give us an illusion of control like money or power or relationships.  And its that misplaced faith which leads us astray and causes us to reject that which seems absolutely impossible, like raising the dead.

     Thankfully, mercifully, God is not bound by our expectations or experiences or choices.  He can act whenever He chooses.  The Good News of Easter, the Great News of Easter really, is that God really is working to make all things new, and that nothing, not even death itself, can thwart Him from His purposes.  The Resurrection of our Lord Christ is the ultimate demonstration of God’s redeeming power.  If not even death can keep us from Him, we truly have nothing to fear!

     I understand, those of you less active in your faith in God, what God is asking of you is challenging.  It’s not at all easy.  Choosing to trust Him, choosing to place your faith in God, puts you immediately an enmity with the world around you.  You want to be captain of your own ship.  You want to be master of your own domain.  You want to have it your way.  You don’t want to be a “religious freak.”  God says there is a better way.  Pick up your cross and follow Me.  Let Me be your King.  Let Me show you what is truly best for you.  And please be faithful; not religious.  And when you sin, when you fail, repent and return to Me.

     I suspect that many of us who find themselves in a church infrequently find it weird to hear a priest say that faith is hard, not easy.  To outsiders, living a life of faith in God seems simple, easy, not a big deal.  Jesus is the answer for everything.  And when we are jerks, we say we are sorry and all is forgiven.  What could be harder?  In reality, faith in God through Jesus Christ is far more difficult than it seems.  More often than not, it seems that it falls to us proclaim to the world around us the possibility of new life in every death.  It falls to us to proclaim the Light shining in the darkness to a world that would rather grope blindly in that darkness.  It falls to us to point the way to hope in the midst of human suffering and despair.  It falls to us to proclaim a message of salvation to a world that would rather be confirmed in its own suffering and death.  In short, it falls to us to live and speak vulnerably, imitating the life on earth of our Lord.  It is not for the faint of heart!  It is not for the lazy!  It is not for those who want to be comfortable!

     In truth, it is a life only for those willing to die.  You all know this.  The outward pledge of our faith in Christ, baptism, is an outward sign that we have died in Christ and that, in dying in Christ, we will be raised in His Resurrection.  The pledge of God that this is true is in the Resurrection of our Lord Christ some 2000 years ago.  And we will remind ourselves over and over and over, as we gather for the Eucharist day in and day out, week in and week out, month in and month out, year in and year out, to get it through our thick heads that He alone is worthy in which to place our faith, our trust.  And because we are slow, because we are doubters, because we are like Mary and Peter and John and all those who have come before, He gives us other signs of His redeeming grace in the world, and then entrusts their telling to us!  What a stupid marketing campaign!

     Except somehow, some way, for some reason, we are all gathered here today 2000 years later and 6400 miles distant, reminding ourselves of His Good News!  It’s almost as if we are stumbling about that garden tomb ourselves, searching, wondering, hoping.  Alleluia Christ is Risen!  The Lord is risen indeed.  Alleluia!

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†

Those who have been called from tombs . . .

    Most weeks, I am thrilled that I get two opportunities to preach.  More often than not, the first sermon is tweaked by those who attend the service and greatly improves the sermon for the second service.  This week, I seem to have needed three chances to get it right.  In my defense, it gets hammered into us during homiletics classes, and books on preaching, that we should never ever preach on ourselves.  Preaching is meant to teach the lesson and give examples of application in the world around us.  Preachers who focus on themselves run the risk of convincing themselves, and their audience, that Jesus is not sufficient.  So, when the opportunity presents itself for me to preach about something I did, I always just find another reading.  The problem this week is that I was certain I was supposed to be preaching on Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet.  Truthfully, the problem was that the only real sermon illustration of which I could think involved me, and I really did not want to confuse myself or you.

     Thankfully and mercifully, I had this third service at the Fountains today.  We are usually an intimate group, and y’all as sermon hearers, are very experienced.  Euphemistically, we would say you are mature.  I know, most of you don’t speak euphemistically any more.  Each of you is old enough to have seen and heard it all, so I don’t think I will be endangering your souls by mistakenly convincing you that you should place your trust in me instead of our Lord Christ.  Good.  I see the nods.  I have nothing about which to worry.

     My other problem is the fact that, in an effort to avoid preaching about one of my experiences, I ran the risk of preaching a horrible moralistic sermon.  A horrible moralistic sermon on Joh’s reading would be something along the lines of Be like Mary; don’t be like Judas!  It sounds good at first, right?  But as you chew on it, there really is no Gospel in such a sermon.  Our salvation is dependent upon us.  We have to be like somebody and not be like somebody else.  What a horrible burden!  How long does it take most of us to sin?  Since I have to drive home from here, I will be lucky if I make it thirty minutes, given the wonderfully safe driving habits of those in Nashville traffic.  If it is up to me to be like someone else, or not be like someone else, I am screwed!  Why even bother?!

     Some years ago, when I was in my last parish, I was summoned to the hospital in the middle of the night.  I feel like this was when I had a flip phone, but I know it was before smart phones were a thing, or at least a thing that I owned.  But, Fr. Darrin was on vacation.  He had asked if I would cover emergencies while he was gone.  I had, of course, agreed.  So, I received a call from a nurse at Genesis West, asking if I could come quickly to the hospital to give last rites to a man from Darrin’s church who was dying.  An aneurism had burst in Gib’s brain, and he was not going to survive the night.  I got the room number and hopped up, assuming time was of the essence.

     I drove down Grand Avenue to the hospital, went in through the emergency room entrance, grabbed an elevator, and headed up to the room, armed with my oil and my BCP.  I talked to his soon-to-be-widow to explain who I was.  I had put on what I had put in the laundry basket at bedtime, so there was no clergy shirt or collar to signify to her who I was.  I explained that the hospital had called and that Fr. Darrin knew I would be filling in for him in emergencies such as this.  I asked the man’s name and got ready to read the rite from the Ministration at the Time of Death.  In the course of our quick conversation, she had shared that they were big fans of Rite 1 rather than Rite 2, so I knew I would be using the language of Thee, Thou, and vouchsafe.

     I had my book opened to page 462 and was ready to pray the rite . . . and I could not talk.  Now, I have been coming here a couple years, but only once a month.  Except for Bobbie, y’all don’t know me that well.  Me not being able to speak is, itself, a wonder and a sign, right Bobbie?  Seriously, I am more like the donkey in Shrek—the real trick is getting him to shut up.  But here I was unable to read the words in front of me.

     God I tried.

     I tried so hard to read those words.  And I could not make a sound.

     After what seemed like minutes but was likely only seconds, the wrestling match began.  I had a compulsion to pray for Gib’s healing.  I had seen the pictures of the bleeder.  Though I was not a doctor and was sleeping in my own bed rather than a bed at Holiday Inn Express, the picture was fairly clear.  The balloon of blood had popped, and blood was surrounding Gib’s brain.

     What caused my wrestling with God was the false hope I would give his soon-to-be widow.  Gib was in his nineties, and she was in her eighties.  Death was inevitable.  There was no way for doctors and nurses to get to the bleeder and save him in time, even if it was in an easily accessible place.  This was in his brain.  Who knows what they would hurt trying to get to it?!

     After a few moments of wrestling with God, I said fine, I’ll do it.  But this was on Him.  I did not want to pray this prayer forming in my mind.  I was not going to be responsible for giving this soon-to-be widow false hope.  But I could not read the BCP aloud.

     So I apologized to her.  I can still see the confusion and worry on her face at my words.  I told her I could not read the BCP words, that I thought I had a compulsion from the Holy Spirit to say what was about to come out of my mouth.  I was so sorry.  I was so sorry for what I was about to do, but I could not do what I wanted to do, what she wanted me to do.

     And I prayed a glorious prayer of manifestation, during that night during the season of Epiphany, that God would show His healing power to all those in the hospital, that all would know where true healing was to be found.  It was truly almost an out of body experience.  One of the great things about being an Episcopal priest is that we have a prayer for that, whatever that is.  I don’t have to make up holy sounding, articulate, and doctrinally sound prayers on the spot, as some other pastors do.  This prayer was so good, I even prayed not for his widow’s sake or his or even mine, but for those who would see and come to believe.  All of this is to say that, at 2:30 or 3am in the morning, while standing bedside with a member of another flock, I had not composed that prayer beforehand.

     As I was praying over Gib, he sat up and said “Who the hell are you?  Where am I?  Where’s the bathroom?  I gotta go pee.”

     Now, watching the emotions crossing your faces, this requires a bit of scene setting.  I did not realize what had happened.  I know it sounds silly looking back on it, but all I could think of was the danger.  It could not be good for Gib to try and walk to the bathroom with a burst aneurism.  My fears were exacerbated when he tried to get up.  He tried to shove me aside to get up and go pee.  His wife did the only thing she could.  She tried to lay down on him and hold him on the bed.  God, he was pissed! (no pun intended)  He was convinced she had lost her mind.  I knew she had; but I knew she had the same fears as me.  I told her to hold him there while I went to get help.

     Good, y’all are laughing.  When I see it in my mind’s eye, I laugh, too.  But there’s more.

     I hunted down the charge nurse that had summoned me a half hour earlier.  She was caring for a patient down the hall.  I told her she needed to come quick because Gib was trying to get out of bed.  She clucked her tongue and looked at me with that sympathy that nurses have for their crazy patients—some of you may know that look!  Father, I know you want to believe God does things like raise the dead, but He doesn’t.  That man is not recovering from that bleeder.  I pleaded with her to come before Gib hurt himself or his wife.  She just condescendingly smiled in pity and said he was going nowhere.

     I kept on pleading with her.  I’m not sure why she eventually came.  Maybe she wanted to placate me.  Maybe she wondered if I was drunk.  Maybe she was afraid I was disturbing that patient.  But she finally came with me.  I wanted to run, but she was having none of it.  I got a lecture going down the hall to Gib’s room about how I needed to understand how things work.  If I was going to insist on these stupid games, I would not be called for patients in the future. 

     Finally, we made it to Gib’s room.  The scene is forever etched in my brain.  An old man was trying to wrestle an old woman off him on his bed.  God, he was convinced she had lost her mind.  She was doing everything she could do to keep him there until I returned with help.  There was yelling and wrestling.  The scene screamed broken hips and liability for the hospital, at least that’s the expression that appeared on the charge nurse’s face.

     She sprinted those last few steps, hitting the stat button on the wall and screaming nonsense words into the speaker, and then working to separate Gib from his wife, while holding him down, trying not to hurt either.  Have you ever forcefully tried to do something gingerly?  That was the nurse’s problem now.  Gib just wanted to pee, and he was letting everyone know it.  Quite frankly, I don’t have any idea why it never occurred to us to tell him to go where he was.  They could have cleaned him up afterwards.

     Another nurse was the first to arrive, then a doctor.  They joined the fracas.  Others kept arriving.  Eventually, the room filled up.  Gib’s wife and I were forced out of the room.  They were trying to reason with Gib.  They offered him a catheter, which was not well received on his part, I might add.  Nothing would do but he had to pee.  Some doctor finally agreed there were enough medical people present to assist him.  Gib was certain he could pee by himself, but he consented to them helping him to the door of the bathroom.

     After things calmed down, and his wife seemed ok, I headed back home.  Yes, Gib made it to the bathroom.  By now it was after 4am.  I had to be up early to take the kids to school, and I wanted some sleep.  It wasn’t until later that morning when one of my friends, upon hearing the tale, pointed out what had happened.  God had raised the dead, again!

     Have you ever paid close attention to the story we read from John today?  The first detail, I think, we have a tendency to skip.  Jesus has returned to the house of Lazarus, and Mary and Martha, whom Jesus raised from the dead.  Can you imagine returning there as one of Jesus’ disciples?  I know, were I following Jesus around, I would supposed to be paying attention to Him.  But, knowing me, I think my attention would be more distracted by Lazarus.  In all the miracles I would have seen following Jesus, two would have stood out: the son of the widow of Nain and Lazarus!  One does not raise the dead!  Such miracles are uncommon, to say the least!

     Sitting at dinner with Lazarus present, I would wonder what he experienced.  Was he aware he died?  Did He see God?  Heck, did He see Jesus?  Were the stories of the light true?  Or was it more like the stories about Sheol?  Did death seem like a powerful nap?  I see the nods.  You have your own questions.  Death for us is that last great unknown, right?  Death is that problem which you and I cannot solve, isn’t it?  Oh, some of us may trust that science one day will be able to upload us into computers like the science fiction authors write, and some of us may entertain ideas of cryogenic freezing, but death still stands as that one barrier through which we cannot pass.  Such was the case in 1st Century Jerusalem, too.

     Think back to the raising of Lazarus.  How do his sisters greet Jesus when He arrives at their place.  Had You been here, Lord, our brother, whom You loved, would not have died.  Even though Lazarus and his sisters understood Jesus was special, they had no real idea just how special.  He was restoring sight to the blind and casting out demons, but death was something else.  Only Elijah had raised someone from the dead.  The story is well known.  Jesus tells the sisters not to fear, but believe.  And He calls Lazarus out of the tomb.

     I have this image of a man wrapped in bands of cloth, like a mummy, shambling forth out of the tomb at Jesus’ command.  Jesus instructs the those around to let Lazarus go.  John recounts that this miracle causes the Jewish leadership to plot to kill Jesus.  So far are they walking from God that they cannot rejoice at Jesus command over death or the fact that Lazarus will still be able to care for his sisters.  Signs like that have a dual purpose.  Either we are driven to worship and praise God, or we are driven from Him.

     The impact on Mary is obvious even to those of us who are blind like Bartimaeus.  When Jesus returns for our scene today, she approaches Him and washes His feet with perfume.  I have shared with you how the lowest slaves on the totem pole got the job of washing the feet of travelers.  Sanitation in the ANE was not what it is today.  One’s shins, calves, and feet had all kinds of wonderful things on them from other travelers and their animals.  Nobody did this job of their own free will, except Jesus in a few days—that’s what makes His act so much more meaningful to those present.  That is a sermon for Maundy Thursday, though! 

     Mary takes Jesus feet and washes them with perfume made of nard.  Scripture tells us the cost of the perfume was equivalent to a year’s wages.  When I was reading the Holy Cow before accepting a call to Church of the Advent, I learned the average family income here was about $108,000.  Imagine washing someone’s feet.  Now imagine washing someone’s feet with perfume valued at over $100,000.  That is Mary’s response to Jesus.

     She is not done, of course.  Rather than use a towel or even her skirts or a dirty robe, she washes the grime off with her hair.  Ladies, give that some thought.  All the wonderful yucky stuff that was on His feet is now in her hair.  If she had long hair, she is going to have to wash it before bedtime.  That means a night of wet hair, doesn’t it?  If her hair was short, well, the bad stuff is that much closer to her head and face.  Which outcome is better?

     When Mary is questioned for doing this, Jesus defends her actions.  The nard, we are told, was bought by her to anoint Jesus body at His death.  Leave her alone!  There is a lot going on here.  Mary, like some of the other disciples and Thomas especially, understands that Jesus will be dying in Jerusalem.  She certainly has understood her Lord’s instruction about serving others, anticipating His actions in just a few days.  She is simply thankful for the opportunity to be with and to serve her Lord.

     Not everyone shares her enthusiasm, though.

     Judas, we are told, is the one who questions why she is allowed to waste this nard on Jesus’ feet and not sell it to help the poor.  John tells us that Judas’ question was not out of concern for the poor, but rather for himself.  He kept the funds for the group and used to steal from the purse.  Jesus admonishes Judas and instructs him to leave her alone.

     What must have gone through Judas’ head at this exchange.  He thinks he is negotiating in secret to betray Jesus; yet Jesus knows He is about to die.  Like us as children when our mothers found crumbs in our bedrooms or on our shirts or mouths, our hands might not have been in the cookie jar at that moment, but we were busted!

     It is important to remind ourselves that Judas was one of the insiders of Jesus’ ministry.  He was part of the Twelve.  Mary had heard and seen a great deal, but Judas was part of the inner circle!  Not a demon was cast out, not an infirmity healed, no eyes were given back their sight---nothing happened outside the Twelve.  And when they had questions, Jesus often spent extra time teaching them apart from the crowds, to make sure they got His teaching right.  If the choice came down to who should understand Jesus better, Mary or Judas, Judas should be the clear winner!  Yet it is that clear winner who betrays His Lord for 30 pieces of silver.  It is that clear winner in our eyes who betrays His Master with a kiss.

      As we near the end of the season we call Lent, the season of self-reflection and self-examination which began on a Wednesday several weeks ago, what have you learned about yourself and your relationship with God?  Way back at the beginning of the season I encouraged those who heard me to give up those things which distract us from tending to our relationship with God or to take on those practices which might help us draw closer to Him.  Where are you now?  Are you closer to Him?  Are you further away?  Are you just the same?  Put in the language of this, the fifth week of Lent, do you see yourself more like Mary?  Or are you closer to Judas than you want anyone to know?  I know, it’s an uncomfortable question.  It makes us squirm a bit when we consider it; yet this is a season when we are supposed to ponder our sins and our need for salvation.  We are supposed to realize again that we cannot save ourselves and that God was under no obligation to save us.  We are not special in and of ourselves.  In and of ourselves we are dead, and Lent reminds us of that singular truth!  What makes us special is the One who rescues us, who saves us, the One who glorifies us in Him.

     Conversations this Lent have been particularly edifying for me, though I recognize the discomfort in those who have sought me out to talk.  This idea that Lent is individually based in an anathema to many.  We should all be doing the same things because the things of the world distract or help us all in the same way.  We should all be giving up social media.  We should all be giving up chocolate or dessert.  We should all be praying more.  We should all be going to all the services at church.  The lists, do’s and don’t’s, are extensive.  And wrong.

     Don’t get me wrong, nobody’s relationship with God would likely be harmed by an extra few minutes of worship or Bible study or prayer.  But where we are in our walks with God are highly individualized.  What feeds me may not feed you, and what feeds you may not feed me.  What tempts me likely does not tempt you, and what tempts you may not always tempt me.  Or, maybe we are subject to the same blessings and same temptations but just not at the exact same moments in time.  Our relationship to God is individualized even though it takes place among a group of people we call the Church.

     Yet, even in the midst of this individualized relationship, in the midst of how the Father reaches out to His beloved daughters and sons, there is a lesson for the community.  What separated Mary from Judas?  Both were witnesses to incredible miracles.  Both were able to sit at His feet and call Him, Teacher.  Both were able to feel Him, to touch Him, to see the emotions on His face.  So why the different responses?

     Part of what makes Lent so challenging to folks, I think, is the fact that we are called by the Church to contemplate our personal need for a Savior.  As much as we think we would like to be in charge of our own salvation, we eventually learn we cannot accomplish it.  How do we make right the effects of our past sins?  How do we mitigate the effects of our sins on others and on the created world around us?  How do we account for all the ripples that flow from our hurtful, selfish, dishonoring God behaviors?  At some point in that relationship, we begin to understand that we cannot.  At some point, birthed in humility and truth, we begin to recognize we NEED God to save us and that God does not NEED us to serve Him.  At some point in our relationship with Him we learn that we are, in fact, already dead.

     But then, for those who repent and call upon Him as Lord, who ask Him to save, a unique thing begins to happen.  In some ways, most of us gathered here this afternoon have stumbled out of our own tombs dressed in our own fine burial clothes into those arms that once hung on the hard wood of the Cross.  Like Lazarus and the son of the widow at Nain and the son of the widow who hosted Elijah, we dead are called back to true life, the life which He planned for us since the foundation of the world!

     Mary saw it in her brother.  Heck, she saw it in herself.  Her response to that new life was the gratitude captured by St. John and all those around her as she ministered to our Lord like a slave.  When you look in the mirror, whom do you see, Mary or Judas?  When your family and friends look at you, whom do they see?  When this community looks at you, whom do they see?

     I shared that story about Gib with you folks as we looked at the story of Mary’s anointing of Jesus feet for at least a couple reasons of which I am aware.  First, so long as we draw breath, it is never too late for us to repent and to ask God to begin a new work, a new creation, in us!  Never.  It is never too late to ask Him to call us out of the tombs we have hewn for ourselves.  Perhaps just as important to y’all, who live in a community where death is a constant companion, where weekly you each mourn the passing of others who live here and, if we are honest, wonder if anyone will notice your passing that fateful day in the future, that nothing, nothing, not even death can separate you or me from our Lord.  Perhaps He does not reach down enough to satisfy our needs for signs by raising more of the dead like Lazarus and Gib.  Then again, perhaps He does it more than we were aware before we gathered for worship this day and contemplated these stories. 

     After all, that same Lord turned fishmen into fishers of men, widows who had lost their sons or brothers into witnesses of His redeeming grace, a chief persecutor of the Temple into a herald to the Gentiles, has called us forth from our tombs into the life everlasting He has promised!  More amazingly, He has promised to use each of us who pledge our loyalty to Him above all things to herald His coming and His return.  He has even promised that those of us who serve Him, even the most menial tasks like Mary’s today, will share in His glory eternally and that, at that wonderful Wedding Feast to which we are all invited, He will serve us again and again.

     Brothers and sisters, do we understand His call on our lives?  Do we understand what He has done for us?  As we speed toward Palm Sunday and the events of Holy Week, I pray that we have been reminded this Lent, and I pray that our self-examination this season has drawn us closer to Him.  And I pray for each of us that we are reminded that we are those who have been and will be called from tombs, to share in the joy and the adoration and the wonder of Mary and Paul and all those saints whom we admire. 

In Christ’s Peace,

Brian†